The Art of War

“Love and war are the same thing, and stratagems and policy are as allowable in the one as in the other.”
Miguel de Cervantes

Sleeping next to Draco had been incredibly restful, and despite not meaning to, she had slept in more than usual. When she got up, she grabbed a cuppa and got something to eat before getting dressed. Then, she headed back to the main library, where she poured over the books, looked through old texts, and started to turn things on their sides. Five books spilt around her as she pursued her research with Lauren. Placed as they were, she had a better visual of what she was looking at like a sequence she'd missed now was brought to light. Only then did the first rune make sense. The entire artefact wasn't meant literally; it was figurative, which would prove to be its own problem once translated, but that meant that some of the things she didn't think these runes could be were now in the realm of possibility.

After months at the manor, Lauren only knew a very thin portion of its master's home. Her room was larger than anything she'd had growing up, even more than her stipend had covered as a scholar. Though she could venture out of the house, she seldom did. At least inside of it, she knew the players and understood the functioning of everything. In a place most would consider the worst option, Lauren felt oddly safe surrounded by books and left to her own devices, unhindered by her peers and the tape brought on by budgets.

Most of her waking hours were spent the same way, tucked inside the library, without much company save the brunette that had posed as a peer what felt like a lifetime ago. The large, massive room put to shame a number of public libraries with entire buildings to their name. And yet, everything had been a learning experience. Certainly she recognized a few names, it seemed even wizards followed certain muggle idiosyncrasies, but for every aspect of the known was one of the unknown. Much of her time had been merely balancing those as she weaved new ideas into everything she had believed as fact and fiction. Because, in many ways, she felt like she dabbled in fiction rather than tangible historical estimation.

She'd been jotting in what felt like her tenth notebook, piecing together bits and pieces that she wasn't sure were related anymore.

Nearby, Hermione translated one of the three rather complex runes; she glanced over her shoulder. "Lauren! I think I figured it out. Could you grab the book we were looking at yesterday?"

Looking back at the serpent's head, Hermione crossed one leg over the other with a bit more of a smirk. Her husband had been busy organizing something today, which let her manage and translate with Lauren. After a very restful night's sleep, they were finally managing a breakthrough. They'd have to try and figure out what the figurative language was meant to refer to. But at least she could say they had it translated.

That had to count for something.

With a nod, Lauren jotted the last idea and ferreted over to her desk, where a dozen texts were sprawled. It took a few checks before she came across the spine of the tome they’d been using.

With it in hand, she handed it quietly. If this was the final stretch, she feared what would come next for her. Still, she donned a soft smile and handed over the text. “This one?” She asked. “What have you found?” What had she overlooked?

Taking the text gratefully, she flipped open to the section she had been looking over before, comparing the symbols there to the ones on the serpent and trying to narrow it down. It was a fragment of a larger rune that was meant to mean at least one of three words. "This one...The rune is a fragment of a larger rune, and it isn't literal..."

It was meant to further throw off whoever was trying to figure out what these things would do.

Lauren looked over the rune in question and then the book. It took a moment to see what the other meant.

“One moment,” she walked to grab her latest journal and flipped the page to start fresh. She began sketching the alignment using this new information to see if it would help them crack the code further.

Hermione gave a quick nod and poured over the first of the runes—one at a time. She wouldn't get ahead of herself. That's how she'd get livid again, just as she had been before.

"Okay, so we have three partial runes," she began slowly, pushing red locks over her shoulder as she leaned in. She was never one for riddles. Tilting her head, she studied the placement of things and how they would have been brought together and frowned. "Life's whisper traded." The words seemed odd. She felt like it was pulling her leg.

Reading over that over and over again, she frowned and leaned back as she stared at the artefact. "We translated it....we'll figure out what the translation means later...I should tell Draco that we figured it out. At least the literal translation."

Lauren nodded. If the brunette was off to speak of results, she needed to get herself together. To prove her worth and save herself from becoming obsolete. Just the idea of it made her feel sick to her stomach. "I'm going to shower and grab a cuppa," she rubbed at her temples. She needed a change of scenery, but that wasn't in her cards.

"Take a break. You deserve it," Hermione offered with a small smile. Getting up, she snapped the book closed and left the library, returning to their wing of the manor with a bit more of a spring to her step.

The flowers made her pause again before she picked a pink daisy out of the vase and brought it into his quarters, only to walk in while he was changing. She closed the door quietly behind her and watched him momentarily with a look of appreciation. Bloody hell, why did he have to be attractive?

It was still odd not to feel a shift in the wards with her presence, as though the manor had just accepted her within his realm after a few drops of blood exchanged. It was the opening and closing of doors that alerted him to her presence.

Pausing to slip on his shirt, he considered turning towards her and opted to slowly work his buttons, allowing her to survey him if she wished.

Watching as he worked, she leaned back against the wall. He'd done the same as she got ready before. Her gaze lingered on his body. "So I have good news and bad news. What do you want first? I suppose it isn't bad news..." she rambled, brushing her hair back out of her face.

"Start with the bad." Draco continued to take his time with each button—something he hadn't had to do since his earlier years at Hogwarts. Magic made dressing much more efficient, but it took away the show at times.

"The translation is figurative rather than literal. We'll have to try and parse the meaning of what we translated," she said with a bit more of a smirk as she watched him. They'd gotten an answer, and she was getting a show. Maybe things would be better after all.

Adjusting the collar of his shirt, he turned to look at her, taking his time as he slipped cuff links into place. "So the good news is you've finally found your translation?" he asked, tucking his shirt in with magic, his cloaks hovering behind him to slip in. That was good news, even if it were merely partial.

She nodded. "We did. The runes were split and fragmented to create alternative meanings to fit what they wanted it to say. It's...strange. Very strange. But it has to mean something when tied to the other artefacts and what we currently know," she offered with a slight shrug. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked just a touch smug with her accomplishment.

"Care to celebrate your discovery?" he asked. He couldn't exactly be a doting husband in the following hours, but it wasn't entirely impossible either.

"I would. Been a while since I've been able to celebrate anything. Not counting our marriage, of course, darling."

With a few steps, he snaked an arm around her hip, pulling her close. She laughed softly and looped her arms around him, smiling more brightly and genuinely than she had in a while. A smile that she seemed to only show those that she trusted or felt close to. Though he didn't say as much, his gaze seemed to come with a caress of his mind that assured he had known she'd succeed. She had a knack for it as if she had been dipped in Felix Felicis at birth. Her mind welcomed his as if it was his touch.

"I've neglected my men," he felt his jaw tense. She had reminded him as much the night before

"You have..." she trailed off, contemplating what to wear to something like this.

"If you're still up for making a statement, I'd much rather have you on my arm." It seemed the most diplomatic way to remind her of what would come. She'd been by his side willingly of late, without expectation beyond the comfort of proximity. "Then, we can celebrate however you'd like, darling."

"I could absolutely be on your arm. It would certainly keep other women from flirting with my husband and allow your men a chance to unwind," she drawled, her fingers brushing through his hair. "I'll think of a proper way to celebrate."

That smile stole the very breath from his lungs. When had someone smiled at him in such a manner with such genuine emotion? He didn’t dare remember. It almost felt too good. And when she didn’t falter at his request, he watched her with a look that showed more warmth than he’d ever displayed.

“Wouldn’t want that when it could be avoided,” he agreed. “And we could always unwind,” he eyed her with that hunger she brought out of him. He’d happily pay penalty fees to get her back in that room.

The warmth in his gaze had her heart skip a beat, and she blushed. He was a bit more open with her, even if it was just in facial expressions.

Leaning in, she nipped at his jaw lightly with a half-smirk. "Trying to recreate when we were both there last?" She crooned against his skin before drawing away.

Closing his eyes, he basked in those nips. Her words caused a closed smile to spread across his lips. “Recreate? No.” He assured. That night, he’d been all reaction. Merely following a narrative and applying it to the circumstances. He’d also lost control, which he wasn't keen on repeating.

He followed after being denied the kiss he’d wanted to respond with. Her steps were an invisible rope that pulled him forward, keeping him on her heels. “Though I’m certain you’ll find just how to spend the time…”

"Oh, well, that's good. Wouldn't want the first time you use a knife with me to be back in that room," she chuckled. Still, she gave him a look that showed that she was at least considering some of the things they had discussed on their honeymoon.

She supposed there were a few things she could wear under a dress to that club that she could use to tease him. Countless things she could do.

“No way I’m doing that without an arsenal at my disposal,” he looked her over. That would require days off, especially since she’d be weakened by it. It definitely wasn’t something to do there.

An arsenal? How deeply and how much did he want to cut? The twisted part of herself almost purred at the opportunity that would come later. She'd shelve that for now and see about what that meant for later. "Noted. Much more preparation than an afternoon."

“As fond as I was of that green dress, perhaps avoid a similar model…” he warned, slicking his lips. He hadn’t exactly told anyone that she’d been his distraction that night. And some of his men were a little more astute than he wished sometimes. He didn’t keep them for their good looks. Smarts and ruthlessness usually were his preference.

She still had options. So many dresses, and none like the green one. "Well, all of my clothes from before were destroyed. That shouldn't be a problem."

“I’m not going to apologize.” He watched her. “I also can’t slip tonight,” he warned her as gently as he could. “You want a statement, brace yourself for one.”

"I'm not asking you to," she said simply, though took the warning for what it was. A warning. She'd prepare herself and reassure herself and at least as long as nothing happened, he'd be here. "I did and do want a statement. And have a few ideas for what to wear..."

“I can’t have you moping about after tonight. Just like if you want knife play, we’ll need much more preparation, not just potions. Headspace for both of us,” he reminded. She’d barely handled a crash from being made to crawl. He couldn’t imagine how she’d react to more. They’d have to build up to that.

That reminder almost had a grimace. Brushing her hair out of her face, she let out a slow breath. "Don't disappear immediately after, and I'm sure I'll be fine. The good thing about Him having Aberforth is He might want to play with him first. Last Dumbledore and all that. So, hopefully, I get you to myself this evening. Other than the bit of socializing you'll do with your men before they find other entertainment."

He stepped forward, getting in closer to hover his lips over hers. “So long as we keep your breakthrough quiet, I don’t see any reason I’ll be summoned any day soon,” he practically purred. He was hoping weeks if he were honest.

At least she was on the same page. It helped that she’d been there before. He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t as hungry as it had been in the past nor particularly chaste. It was gentler than she would receive for a while. As if he could apologize for anything he said or did in the coming hours.

That closeness had her breath almost hitch, and her gaze dropped to his lips for just a moment before lifting to meet his gaze once again. "I think we can. Lauren isn't about to tell anyone," she murmured as she kept his gaze.

The kiss wasn't what she had expected. She'd half expected him to kiss her with more heat and hunger, but the gentler brush of lips had her melt for a different reason. She kissed him back, slowly, languid, with a bit more gentleness to it from her. She knew he couldn't be this gentle with her again for quite some time, so she savored it while she could.

His fingers trailed the frame of her face, giving her the softest hint of what he couldn't give her in the long term. For a moment, he lingered in that tenderness before pulling away. Forehead against hers, he let a sigh escape him. Even in his youth, he'd never had the luxury of kindness in such exchanges.

"I'll let you get ready before I reconsider delaying our arrival." He punctuated the statement by nipping her lip. Being with her shouldn't have been so easy, and it certainly shouldn't have made him feel the way he did with every meeting of flesh and lip.

The gentleness had her cheeks flush a gentle pink as she let herself soak in the affection. Those doting touches were so very gentle and at odds with everything else she knew of him. Even when she thought someone was being gentle with her, they were trying to get something out of it. She had been wrong. This was more genuine than anything else she could have imagined from him at all.

That slight nip to her lips had her shiver and she smiled before brushing a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. "How long do I have before we leave?" How long had she actually been in that library?

"I can easily give you an hour," he offered. It would be pushing the patience of some, but he didn't care. He hadn't exactly believed she would come. The fact that she was making it a point, he could give her the time she needed. "If you need longer, I can send Theo or Blaise along," he shrugged. They could make an entrance, he wasn't bothered. As far as he was concerned, he was never late. His mother might disagree, but then, he'd never liked being predictable.

Brushing her hair out of her face as she took a step back, she considered for a moment. "Might take me a touch longer. If I do, we can enter with the smoke to make a point," she offered with a shrug of her shoulders but there was a tease of a smile. If they were going to be late, she knew they'd have to make more of a point. And that concession would be something she could give. She would need to practice that with him. Her own entrances had to be made after all.

"Take as long as you need," he kissed her temple, releasing her as he took a step back. If he kept that proximity, he knew they'd be more than late. "I'll wait for you downstairs," he said, retreating from her side to find Theodore and Blaise if he planned to join. They could have a round of firewhiskey before they made their way out. At least he could convince one of them to take the group, and he could meet them with his wife later.

Hermione enjoyed the gentle kiss and couldn't help but grin before she turned to go back to her quarters to get ready. Some of the pieces that she had commissioned had been stored there after all. Had to keep a little bit of a surprise for her husband. She made sure her hair was in those loose wave curls that were more classic and had a small comb that held half of the hair up a little higher so the curls fell in a cascade. That was what took the most time, even with magic. That and deciding on a dress.

It wasn't much longer than an hour. Closer to an hour and fifteen minutes as she grabbed her cloak and pulled it on as she started to come down the stairs. The black dress she was in had a slit clear up her thigh, almost to her hip. It shows a flash of a garter band that matched the soft black material of her dress, and from that band hung a few dainty chains that encircled her leg with small gems along the silver chain. And the letter M clear on her thigh. The necklace she had on with the dress also flashed for a moment. Chains that formed an interlocking square of a décolletage across the chest, almost obscuring the small traps of the low-cut black dress, were made out of the same thin silver chains that were on her thighs and decorated with beautiful gemstones. Rather than merely sit around her neck, the chain disappeared down into the dress.

A body-hugging piece that was black and smooth as satin, lace making the top of it almost see through, seeing hints of skin and the shine of a chain that seemed to trail down her body. Was it connected to the chain at her thigh? It was impossible to tell by just looking. It was hidden away as she hit the last step and fastened the cloak closed around her body, her heels clicking on the floor. "I took a bit longer than I thought I would."

Draco had enjoyed a few drinks with his men while she dressed, delaying them an hour before sending them off. A few had seemed to suggest he wouldn’t, and he didn’t care. He’d merely sent them off.

And from what he gleaned, he was glad for them to be gone. His gaze had been drawn to the glimmer between her breasts and followed down to find a slit at her thigh with more of those chains. He swallowed and downed his drink before rising. Each step towards the foot of the stairs stole his breath. He wanted to rip that cloak off of her and resume their prior activities on the foyer table.

“I’m not complaining,” he said, tone husky as he looked down and instantly regretted it. It took every ounce of will to look up again. “We best go now before I find myself proving Pucey right,” he nearly bit on the words.

Feeling his gaze on her, she couldn't help the bit of a smirk that curved her lips before her expression settled into that cool aloofness she tended to prefer when she had to deal with business at his side. She made sure the cloak covered a lot of her from view, though when the cloak was removed, she'd draw quite a few gazes, she was sure.

"Well, I should hope not. I put in quite a bit of effort after all..." Her mind caressed his, a teasing purr. You should see where all the chains go. She arched a brow with a bit of a chuckle. "And what was Pucey's claim?"

“That I wouldn’t make it,” he met her gaze. Apparently, you hold my leash and not the other way around… He had half a mind to drop a potion in the man’s drink and leave him impotent for a night.

"You said you would be. And a wizard only has his word, does he not?" She asked as she met his gaze. I have the distinct feeling it is a mutual exchange of who holds the leash when...but time to fix perceptions tonight, isn't it? The chains would help, then. It would show a bit of a point. The impulsive addition of the M against her thigh would also help to highlight that point.

Rather than offering his arm, he firmly pulled her to his chest. “Time to prove the bastard wrong,” he concluded. It was the only warning he gave her before enveloping them in smoke, tearing out the manor in a trail of thick black clouds.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, about to ask something before she felt the smoke envelop them. She braced herself, schooling her expression and knowing that she would need not to look shaken from the experience. More practice would absolutely be needed.

Their vows made it so that she had as much sway on him as he did on her. It was a side effect he hadn’t quite factored in. That we will, his mind promised as they flew across the countryside. He kept her close to his body, enjoying the proximity while also hoping it kept her steady. It wouldn’t help him any if she were sick when they arrived. Dizzy he could work with.

Rather than stop outside the door, he barreled into the establishment, stopping just inside the foyer. There was a silence, patrons and staff alike coming to a standstill as the couple stood—a mix of awe and apprehension. Your turn, his mind purred, moving his hands from her hips to the clasps of her cloak, unabashedly brushing against her breasts. Whatever statement she planned, he wanted to see it first. It wasn't long before it yielded to his pull and tug, revealing the delicious sight she had created for him. As one of the establishment's girls passed by, he handed the cloak over.

It wasn't as bad as the last time with her pressed so close to him and able to brace a little bit for it. But her world still spun. She was dizzy but not sick, and the silence of the establishment as they landed had her focused solely on her husband. Looking up at him, she was a little unsteady on her feet, but she stayed leaning into him. That purr of his mind had her shiver as he unclasped and pulled the cloak away. Then she could really feel eyes roaming over her body. The lace of the dress framed the slit up her thigh and drew the eye to her chest, where that chain disappeared under the dress itself.

"I'll have my usual and make sure to keep the drinks flowing," he made a motion for the entire place. After all, it was theirs for the night.

Her hands rested on her husband's chest for a moment as she got her bearings. She glanced over at the girl who worked here, offering only a hint of a smile that didn't reach her eyes, falling into her role well enough. "Dark and stormy," she said simply as her order before returning her attention to Draco. The ginger in it would help settle some of the nausea from the dizzy without raising suspicions. Going where he nudged her ahead, her long strides had a flash of that chain around her thigh with the M charm that shone just as brilliantly as the chains.

"Come, darling," he nudged his wife forward, ignoring the cheer that seemed to follow, be it his entrance or the fact that most would likely fail to remember their night. Instead, he made his way to the round table where a few of his men sat—Pucey and Nott among them. "What am I winning at tonight?" he asked, taking a seat. It usually didn't matter which game they started, be it cards, darts, or even dominoes. It was rare for him to lose.

Sitting next to her husband, she tucked one leg behind the other as she looked over the table.

Nott kept his attention off Hermione and offered a small smile. "Poker. Though Pucey lost the first bet of the night already," he drawled and extended his hand to the blond. "Three sickles. Pay up."

Draco eyed Pucey as he begrudgingly handed over three silver coins but held his tongue. This was a means to unwind, and goading him wouldn't do well with fresh wounds to lick. "Perhaps we should wait after a drink then; I'd hate to clean Adrian out before he's even had a chance to enjoy himself," he smiled against his glass and slipped a hand in her lap. The fabric was so soft he couldn't help tracing abstract shapes against it, wishing it were her skin. It wouldn't do well to take her back, not yet, not for a while. As frustrating as it was.

It wasn't long before Cassius Warrington found himself beside Adrian. The former chaser couldn't stop looking over the brunette at Draco's side.

"Are you having trouble finding someone, Cassius?" Draco asked. "Or are you hoping to revisit a more permanent punishment?" he demanded. He hadn't forgotten how Hermione had broken his nose or how nearly half of the men at the table had dared try to touch what was his.

Hermione couldn't help but raise a brow at Pucey as her drink was brought to her. She took a slow sip and stayed close to her husband but looked over Adrian a moment, as one might look over a bug they were scraping off their shoe. Then, she glanced at Theo. "So, who has the second-best poker face at the table, Theo?" She relaxed under Draco's hand, half tempted to shift her leg so he could touch her bare thigh with the slit right there.

"Second best?" Theo asked with a furrowed brow.

"Mhmm. Clearly, my husband has the best. I'm looking to see which of you I'll be usurping as second best poker face at this table," she said with the hint of a smile.

Pucey almost choked on his drink, and when Warrington took a seat at the table and kept eying her, she let her eyes slowly slide over to Warrington. She took another sip of her drink and couldn't help but chuckle. "Perhaps he likes women that can break his nose. I'm sure they'll be able to help find you company that would be more than willing to do so, Cassius," she stated, meeting his eyes without any of the mirth that was in her words in her eyes.

But rather than dwell on it, she let her husband handle it, even as a few of the men snickered and tried to make it as good-natured as it sounded rather than dwelling on what Draco implied or what she said. If they try to touch, do you get to break their fingers, or do I?

I'll do more than break fingers if they touch you, he promised back to her. If anyone dared touch her, they'd lose a hand. Or both. He wasn't picky, but he knew his men wouldn't try. Not here. Especially not considering she was his wife. Astoria might have been bold, but this was different. You'll be fine; even if I left this table, not a single one of these vultures would be stupid enough to try. It still doesn't hurt to throw the occasional threat.

"Nott's quite decent, even when he isn't counting cards," he told his wife. "Pucey gets lucky sometimes, though it's been a while. And Cassius, honestly, I would feel bad if he wasn't so adamant about playing," he chuckled, returning to more lighthearted banter.

"I won once," Cassius reminded, and there was a roar at the table from Nott and Pucey alongside Draco.

"It was beginner's luck," Adrian shook his head.

I've gotten a decent amount of experience tossing threats around. Previously, they were all threats she traded with him. Mostly him. And he had bantered back. How strange that she missed some of that banter. Perhaps that was something to tie into the bedroom at some point. Later. Not now.

She nodded, paying attention and letting her gaze slide to each man as he was described. Well, Pucey and Nott would be the ones to beat. Potentially, her husband if she could. Cassius not being able to beat any of them was honestly unsurprising. She chuckled softly at that, shaking her head. "Well then, I suppose I know who I'm aiming to beat." All of them, really, but she wasn't going to say anything like that outwardly.

Pucey, thinking that she was in control of Draco, would get them into some sort of trouble if he attempted to go running to the Dark Lord with that information. So she let him take the lead. If she beat him, it would be from actual skill. Poker face, the luck of a good hand, and her ability to keep up with everything else.

Theodore met her gaze and smirked. "I look forward to you trying," he offered with a chuckle.

"Guess you won't be needing beginner's luck then," Adrian drawled. "Hopefully, you know when to fold them," he cautioned.

Draco drew his wand and shuffled cards. "By now you've all had your asses handed to you by my wife, at least this time it will be in good fun," he said, his hand finding that slit and slipping beneath it. He couldn't help but grip those chains into her thigh at the feel of them. All that teasing, and he couldn't have her in his lap while she played. Such a pity. Perhaps he'd take her out first so he could. He polished off his glass and sent cards to every player.

Hermione met Theo's gaze and couldn't help but smirk. "When I try, I succeed, Theo."

Warrington almost scoffed, but she ignored him. It was easy to ignore him when he was the least important man at the table. However, she noticed that his gaze flicked back over to her occasionally. Creep.

It would certainly be an experience to play poker with them all. She let her expression smooth back into that cool indifference, not letting on to anything as she looked at her cards.

The fact that she kept that cool exterior while he grabbed her thigh made him want to push her buttons. While his fingers traced small circles along her inner thigh, he quickly eyed his cards as the others at the table did the same.

Nott set two cards forward to exchange. A motion that was quickly followed by the others. Pucey traded three, and Warrington traded his entire hand. The fool.

Those light circles traced on her thigh felt nice, and she wanted to press even closer, but not quite yet. She wanted to play a little bit first, after all. She selected two of her cards to be exchanged, setting them down on the table as she leaned back in her seat, all without changing her expression.

Draco didn't bother to look at his cards again. He already knew which ones he needed to get rid of. Slipping two out, he placed them forward and drew two new ones. Ever the mask of composure, he leaned back, considering the odds, and hopeful for a few outcomes.

As the first betting round followed, each player evaluated their hands after the card exchange, many offering the guise of improvement through tells of their own.

Theodore, for one, seemed pleased with his new cards, a smirk playing on his lips as he placed a conservative bet, aiming to test the waters. Three shiny sickles stacked neatly and pressed forward.

Adrian, ever confident, raised the stakes, convinced of his improving hand after the exchange. Five of the sickles pushed before him.

Cassius scrutinized his new hand and, emboldened by it, called the bet, eyes occasionally drifting towards Hermione.

Hermione maintained her cool, exchanging only what she needed, her expression unreadable as she matched the bet with a calm demeanor. She ignored Cassius, keeping her attention on her cards and the hand that traced along her thigh.

The women who worked the club kept their drinks filled, and Adrian kept glancing up at one of the servers each time she returned, getting a little distracted each time now.

A new server seemed a little...awkward. She stumbled in her heels and seemed to have her gaze focused on Theodore.

Draco focused on his cards, but something was off. It bothered him. In all his years, not once had he seen anyone falter in heels in such an establishment. Did anyone know of your plans to come here when you did? he asked through their bond as he matched the bet. He had a decent hand. Enough to win a round, though it seemed Theo had that first round.

It seemed to encourage that blustering hot mess forward to dote on the blond, and Draco felt himself hold his wife more firmly, ready to push her back if needed.

After losing the first round, Adrian eventually slipped the chestnut-haired server he eyed into his lap. “You’ll be my lady of luck, won’t you?” He’d asked, and she’d giggled, happily settling against him as he openly touched her.

Cassius rolled his eyes but felt like having his friend distracted might bode better for his odds.

Hermione stayed focused on her cards, and while her hand was okay, Theo winning round one had her give a slight wrinkle of her nose as cards were dealt back out. If anyone knew what I was up to, they would have isolated me immediately. The only one who had a vague idea was Luna.

Rolling her eyes slightly at Pucey's antics, she exchanged one card and sipped at her second drink. "You'll need all the luck you can get," she battered with the ghost of a smile.

Theo's brow furrowed at the attention of the hot mess, but he chuckled good-naturedly. He ordered another drink and sent her on her way as he made the first bet. Four Sickles.

After a brief moment of consideration, Hermione threw in a galleon and settled. Her expression never once shifted from that cool and collected distance while actively playing.

It still didn't sit right, but he certainly didn't feel at ease. He'd have been less suspicious if the girl wasn't interested in the closest he had to a second. Definitely not Luna, she can walk in heels, he gritted, needing the outlet to prevent his jaw from tensing.

"You can always fold while you still can," Draco taunted Pucey. "Seems you have a consolation prize after all." Perhaps it was cruel and snide, but he didn't care. The man needed to get laid before it became a problem, and time wasn't kind for matchmaking, so taking the edge off was second best. Rather than dwell on Pucey, he looked at Theo, almost missing the bets being placed. "If she ever runs out of the manor in the morning, have the decency to take away her heels," he warned, and the table roared. He'd have to have a chat with the manager if that was the best she could provide.

"I'll match," he turned to Hermione with a chuckle. He'd probably lose the round. He was too busy running through potential issues to properly assess anything. He had a pair that could win him something, and it wasn't like he was going to run out of galleons over a small-stakes game.

I know she can. Could be a new girl who lied about how she walks in heels? They'd keep an eye out, but whoever she was seemed to genuinely have some interest in Theo. He was the most kindly of this bunch. It didn't say much, but that reputation alone could have some of the women likely attempting to throw themselves at him specifically. She had heard far too much about their bedroom habits when she was undercover and wished she hadn't.

She almost snorted at that and shook her head. Consolation prize. Right. A lot of these women would be their prizes for the night, just as she was the prize for Draco in general. She was more than that, but that was the role she was meant to play. She took a sip of her drink and nearly choked from her husband's comment; clearing her throat, she looked at him with amusement before glancing at Theo. "Or at the very least transfigure them to flats." The laughs continued, and while she felt a little bad for the girl, she had practiced her very mannerisms before she showed up here. And she had never intended to follow through with the job.

Warrington glanced around the table, looked back at his cards, and watched the table again. Pausing a moment, he put in two galleons, trying to keep his face calm.

Pucey matched it with a snort. "You're bluffing."

"Definitely bluffing," Theo drawled and threw in the two galleons.

Watching him more shrewdly, Hermione put down three galleons. The ghost of a smile curved her lips before it was gone.

"Worth it just to watch you perish," Draco stared at the former chaser, matching his wife's bet. Anything to avoid looking at the trainwreck headed for Theodore, a blush on their cheek as they came forward with a firewhiskey in hand for him.

She best have some spectacular talents, his mind grumbled. Perhaps she was a champ with her mouth to have two left feet that way, though he kept the wayward thought from his wife. She had to have some redeeming quality to not be up to the standards he usually held for his men.

Before he could reveal his hand, however, a curse from Theodore had him turning to witness the witch patting his thigh with a cloth. "I...Ss-o....s-s-orry..." she blustered about.

"The hand can't possibly be that good," she drawled at Warrington before she glanced down at her hand. Pucey laid down a straight right as the drink was spilt onto Theodore.

The blond cursed and looked at the girl with narrowed eyes. But both his brow and Hermione's furrowed as they looked too closely at that woman.

"Oh bloody hell," the witch muttered under her breath, downing the rest of her drink with a grimace.

Theodore surged upwards, pulling the witch over his shoulder, glancing back at the table. "I'm going to teach this one a lesson," he drawled coldly, but his hand placement made it very clear on what he was actually doing.

Blithering idiots. Hermione thought to herself, shaking her head. She was about to say something before Warrington laid down a full house, and Hermione lifted a brow. "You actually had a halfway decent hand. Not bad. But still not good enough," she drawled as she laid out a straight flush. The only thing that could beat her now was a royal flush.

Anything I want to know? his mind rose to the statement that came across the bond, his gaze following his friend as he carried the brunette across the hall. He couldn't shake the feeling that told him something wasn't right. He folded his hand. No need to give away his distraction.

"Looks like the only luck you'll get is from your Lady, Adrian," he teased. "Which is more than Cassius can claim," he drawled. Even his snide remarks weren't as sharp as he felt off skelter.

Nope. It wasn't a lie. He wouldn't want to know that his friend was sleeping with Harry and wouldn't want to know that her friend had decided to take a page out of her book. His eyes gave him away this time. His other disguise had the exact same color eyes, and his voice sounded just a little off, which meant he hadn't used polyjuice. Damn idiot.

Warrington started grinding his teeth as Hermione pulled in the coins with a bit of a smirk for a moment. "Close. Both of you were quite close."

The cards were dealt back out, and Hermione put three down to exchange, taking three new cards without changing her expression.

Well that certainly didn't make him feel better. He sighed and looked at his hand, trading a single card. Though he had a great hand, it didn't feel like the victory he normally enjoyed. We'll discuss it tomorrow then, he offered after a pregnant pause, a caesura to their motions. He could postpone his need to know especially since Theodore seemed to recognize his lover, which explained his quick dismissal. At least that explained the poor use of heels.

Pucey smiled as his lady whispered in his ear, her fingers across his chest. "I'll catch a round later," he said, distractingly folding before following the girl back. Draco all but rolled his eyes.

"You going to tuck tail too?" he asked the last man standing.

"Definitely not," he said, trading a couple of cards and smiling to himself.

Tomorrow. She agreed and tried to ignore the growing dread that twisted inside of her. That was going to be a fight and she knew it would be a complicated one. But later. She shifted her cards and almost snorted as Pucey bailed, glad that he was gone at least.

"Hope he had bad cards," she chuckled with a small note of amusement, watching them leave for a moment before she pressed her leg against Draco's as she contemplated before putting in five sickles to start.

Draco raised to two galleons, curious to see if that smile on Cassius would remain. He eyed him almost like a cat toying with its prey. He was more interested in that thigh against his, of how he'd be between them soon enough, enjoying what fresh taunting lay beneath that soft dress of hers.

Warrington couldn't help himself, matching and turning his gaze on the brunette expectantly. "Time will tell," his eyes seemed to glimmer.

Taking the moment to look over her cards, she met that bet calmly and without hesitation as she glanced at Cassius. "I'm sure it will. Would be a shame if he had a really good hand and folded," she drawled.

She kept her thigh against Draco's, half tempted to teasingly trace along his calf, but she resisted the urge, moving her free hand over her skirt, smoothing the material over her thighs.

As though noting her shift, his hand stopped her motion, finding flesh as he showed his hand, a royal flush in spades. The thrill from her flesh was greater than that of his won galleons. There was no way any could beat him, just draw.

Warrington whistled low and folded. "I think I might find more luck elsewhere," he shrugged, downing his drink and giving a small bow of his head towards he couple.

Draco looked at his wife. "Just you and me now," he nearly purred.

A soft chuckle left her lips, and she showed her hand. It had simply been a full house, but she was willing to risk it. She glanced up at her husband, giving him her full attention rather than really giving any attention to Warrington. "Mmm, seems so."

And what is it that my husband would like to do with me now? her mind purred through his.

Many things, he promised against her mind while he pushed back his chair to give her space. He patted his thigh, much as he had their first night here. As much as he wanted to retire, there were still gazes flicking to them, and he hadn't been shy with her about the house.

Any more enticing than the others? She purred through his mind as she moved, easily taking a seat in his lap and letting her fingers lightly brush along his shoulder and down his arm. She'd be damned if she wasn't allowed to touch her husband this time around. Unless that was part of the game.

Draco nipped at the side of her throat, needing a taste of her. He’d been good all this time, but now? He couldn’t hold back. I may have to spank you for concealing that daft witch’s identity, he said, reaching just under her ear. “I think I might enjoy making you writhe for me,” he purred against the shell of her ear. “Can’t promise you’ll make it home without needing a cloak,” his hand was firm in her soft locks, pulling her head back to claim her lips in a commanding exchange.

The nip had her breath hitch as she pressed closer to him, her fingers gripping his shoulder lightly.Oh nooo. Whatever will I do if you do that? Her voice was a cheeky purr, meant to tease as she shivered under his touches, his breath on her ear. "Whatever my husband wants," she crooned, meaning it for the moment as she kissed him back with a soft whimper. The power in that kiss made her want more.

Every touch she gave him spurred him on. As much as he enjoyed her, he was cautious about keeping her dressed. Regardless of what she was, she remained his wife and was his to enjoy. A singular thought he translated as he met her tongue and gave her a taste of just how firmly he wanted to be inside her. He mapped those chains through the buttery fabric of her dress, pressing them into her flesh.

Feeling him press the chain in between her breasts and along the tops of them had her breath hitch as she kissed him back. Her tongue met his eagerly, all while letting him have control of the exchange. It was a careful line that they were walking. One that allowed them both to slowly make a point. Though perhaps his was being made much more rapidly with the chains that adorned her body under the dress.

It took every ounce of will to pull away, his hungry gaze falling on her lips and lowering to where those chains teased along the deep cut of her dress. He kissed the sides of her breasts he could see without exposing her further, gripping her hips to make her feel just how hard she made him. You do this to me, his mind growled the accusation. He couldn’t hold back the dark desires he held for her. “As much as I’m certain we could teach my men a few tricks…” he nipped her ear lobe and sucked it in. “I think it’s time we retire."

The hunger in his gaze lit a fire in her again. That look always made her think that he was about to eat her alive and leave not a piece of her left. She sighed softly at the kisses to her breasts, feeling just how hard he was. It had her breath catch in her throat, with a hint of a smirk curved her lips as she slowly rolled her hips into him once. Teasing further and keeping his mind entirely on her. Is that a complaint? I'm sure I could expose less skin in the future if it is... Her mind purred, teasing all the while as desire pulsed through her. Her voice out loud was a little more breathy. "I do so like the way you think, darling..."

Those lips, the way they curved. He swore it was like she demanded he let go and just claim her. The more she teased, the longer that walk felt. Won't stop me from bending you over the first surface I find, his thoughts promised back, keeping his focus on the door that was meant for them. As he stood them up and moved towards the hallway, she felt her heart hammering in her chest. No hiding this time. Everyone knew exactly what she was doing here and what they would be up to, even if they didn't have details. A few people did from how she'd been spread out on the table in the foyer.

"I'm sure you do," he pressed her against the door, kissing and nipping along the side of her neck. He didn't need the added display, but he so enjoyed it.

Hermione gasped at those kisses and nips along her neck, the hard door against her back. She tilted her head, exposing more of her neck for him. "How can I not when you have such wonderful ideas?"

He reached around to turn the knob and nudged her in. The door sealed behind them with magic. “Take it off,” he demanded. “Slowly,” he added. He’d lasted this long. What was a little more teasing? He certainly would be paying her back soon enough.

Stepping inside, she slowly turned to face him, reaching back to unfasten the dress. She slowly slid her arms out of the thin straps and let the dress slowly pool down. The chains across her body framed her breasts, the dress having had built-in support required no bra underneath. Left standing in her heels and her panties, the chains hugged her body, framed her curves, crisscrossing along her hips, ending in hanging chains over her thighs. Only the right leg had the shining silver M against it.

Every languorous motion she made held his attention captive. His breath baited as he watched the slick fabric pool at her feet like oil. From her heels, he gave himself a moment to take her in inch by blissful inch, from the M dangling mid-thigh, following crisscrossings of chains up and over her thighs, along her midriff, and around her breasts. He'd do his best not to break those chains for as long as he could. He wanted to reach for her but unzipped his pants instead. Stroking himself, he beckoned her forward. "I think I'd very much like to see you on your knees, darling," he spoke huskily.

Each look and lingering focus on her body had her tremble. She could practically feel his gaze as if it was a touch over her skin, like it was trailing over her body and teasing her with the prospect of what could be. Slowly licking her lips, she stepped out of the dress at her feet, leaving on the heels, and moved closer. Casting a wordless cushioning charm, she sank down onto her knees before him, one hand brushing slowly up his leg. "Quite different than the last time you had me on my knees..."

Draco barely held back a groan as he gripped her hair once she was settled. "Do you miss my belt around your neck?" he asked. Because I can be very accommodating, he promised. He'd enjoyed all her mouth had had to offer, how she'd been tear-stricken and beautiful as she'd taken everything he'd given her.

The idea alone had a shiver roll down her spine. "It was rather thrilling...and I won't object," she purred the words as her hand slowly teased up higher, just shy of his length. I actually have on makeup that will run if you make me cry this time... It was as much a tease as it was a warning. Some men apparently liked that look, and some didn't. It wasn't much, but she had put on a little eyeliner and mascara to make her lashes appear longer.

He certainly wasn't going to deny her. With a flick of his wand, the length of leather slipped their fabric hoops to snake around her neck. "I look forward to making a mess of you," he slicked his lips, yanking to force a gasp so he could fill her with his length until he hit the back of her throat. Only then did he release his hold to give her some air.

That goad did what she thought it would. Both of them seemed to like having evidence of what they had done or accomplished. This was no different. A gasp left her lips that almost caused a gag as he filled her throat with his length, but she managed to get control of that, taking in a breath carefully through her nose as she started to bob up and down on his length, lavishing him with her tongue.

As much as he wanted to let his head fall back, he couldn't tear his gaze from her. Not when she rewarded him with that initial gag or the warm velvet of her tongue. That heat she offered, as present around his length as it lived in her chocolate gaze. Slowly, he pulled back before slamming back through her lips. His grip on his belt shifted, rolling the leather around his hand as he controlled her airflow. "You feel so good..."

Watching his reactions had a bit more heat roll through her. She wanted to hear him groan or moan for her. Wanted him to curse. Wanted to hear his breathing become uneven from the warmth of her mouth. As he slammed back into her mouth, she nearly gagged again before shifting slightly, making it easier for him to slide down her throat and fill her mouth completely. Tears hadn't started yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time with the way he filled her mouth.

He couldn't help but moan as she yielded for him, allowing him the depths he desired. It was so easy to get lost in the motions, to enjoy her mouth with harsh, demanding thrusts. She felt so good, too good. Even if he'd wanted to be gentle, he couldn't. He'd be sure to leave her satisfied after, deeply so. "Fuck," he swore, feeling that heat build behind his belly. "I'm going to claim all of you," he vowed, stealing away her breath with an intransigent fist.

The harshness of the thrusts made it hard to breathe, but he controlled it with that belt. She gagged right as he cut off her air again. It made her eyes start to water as her grip shifted, her hand digging into his thigh as she shivered. The surrender of power had desire pooling between her legs and making her body react, even as he cut off her air. He couldn't truly hurt her. It soothed the remaining self-preservation instinct she had around him.

Every budding tear had him lose himself in her, filling that beautiful mouth of hers with brutal thrusts. Did she understand how perfect she was? A very goddess he wanted to worship. The way she gripped his thighs, those sharp claws digging through his pants. If the last time was any indication, he had a feeling she was wanton for him. He was openly moaning, feeling that need continuing to build. He was close, so close, and every push into her felt like he was chasing it.

With him cutting off her ability to breathe made her vision spotty, causing her to claw at him more. Tears rolled down her face in tracks of black from her makeup, but she didn't care. The lightheaded thrill of this, along with the delicious sounds of his moans, had her incredibly wet. Her nipples pebbled, her knickers were soaked, and when he allowed her a chance to breathe, she took in greedy breaths through her nose and lavished his length with her tongue. A muffled whimper left her as she refused to take her eyes off of him. Your moans are perfect. You taste so good on my tongue.

Those words echoing in his mind, the way she looked at him with streams of charcoal, he couldn't stop himself. That heat coursed through him, barrelling out of his length. It was rare for him to take his pleasure first, but after everything, it was a need if he meant to take care of her, to properly tease and make a mess of her.

i>You look... even his mind was breathless. Her breath might have been constricted, but somehow, he felt like he was the one short-circuiting. Perfect. And though no witch he knew would enjoy being so disheveled, he reveled in it. He couldn't stop the claiming thought as it crossed between them. Mine. His. She was his. Taking his belt away, he let it fall to the ground, petting her hair before gripping it.

If she had known such words would be his undoing, she might have said them several times before now. Swallowing him all down, she almost gagged again and shivered. Tears tracked down her face like ink from her makeup, leaving a much more noticeable mess than the last time he did that. She slowly drew off of his length, drool connecting her mouth to the tip of him for just a moment before she closed her mouth and wiped it with the back of her hand. Her breaths were labored, her cheeks flushed, and she felt far too wet and turned on for doing that. You do so like making your witch a mess. She leaned into his petting hand, her eyes starting to close before she gasped at that grip back to her hair. Her gaze met his in silent question.

"That I do," he purred, pulling her up from his vice grip on her locks. He couldn't stop his other hand from her cheek, his thumb brushing the liquified kohl across her cheekbone. That tug to pull her up by her hair had her hiss softly, but she pushed up from her knees carefully. Her scalp was just a little sensitive. She moved where he wanted, anticipation making her ache with need. She blushed a bit more deeply as he drew her arms over her head with the silk from the curtains.

"And I've only just begun," he promised, dragging her with him towards the large four-poster bed. He didn't place her on the mattress, opting to summon strands of silk from the curtains to hold her arms over her head. "Let's see how much you enjoyed that," he drawled, making her knickers fall to the ground with a precise cut. He took his time, caressing a breast before following a silver strand down her belly to reach between her thighs. Now, in just the chains and her heels, she shivered. The air cool against the heat of her core. Even her thighs already felt wet from how aroused she was. The slow caresses had her eyes flutter closed as she leaned into his hands, enjoying the slow teasing.

"So eager," he took his time tracing her, his fingers slid against her slit like silk, feeling her without pressing against anything just yet. She spread her legs a bit further apart so he could more easily trace her folds and touch her. She almost tried to arch into his hand but stilled herself.

"Only for you," she crooned the words.

It was a fate for them both, and he couldn't complain. Just touching her, feeling her desire, was enough to make him shift in his trousers. Never in his life did anyone make him so hard and leave him with such need. Even like this, he felt like she was in control, and he couldn't bring himself to care. His lips found her shoulder, nipping towards her neck, carefully avoiding the metal harness she displayed for him. He timed biting in the crook of her neck with slipping two fingers into her, building her as quickly as he could. He wanted her to feel that control loss. The way she had triggered him with her mere thoughts. "All mine," he nipped her cheek.

The light brush of his lips as they brushed her shoulder, nipping along her skin, sent sparks of pleasure and desire through her. She tilted her head to the side for him, allowing him easier access to her neck. For the moment, she was compliant enough. She'd be cheeky and bratty again in a little bit, but this felt far too good to push against. A gasp that turned into a moan of pleasure left her lips, her hips rolling into his hand as he filled her with her fingers.

While his fingers delved in and out of her, the heel of his hand pressing down against her clit. He ravaged her lips with a kiss he hoped expressed how dire his need for her was. If she continued to moan like that, he would be cutting corners, and he couldn't have that. They'd be bruised when he'd be done, more than the smears of rouge her earlier acts had caused. Every act was a claim, and he'd indulge while he had her here. A few ideas came to mind, most of which he kept to himself longer.

Her hips arched into, her moans muffled by his mouth against hers. She kissed him deeply, her lips parting for him so her tongue could brush his. That press to her clit and the continual thrusting of his fingers had her almost whimper, building up rather rapidly under his focused touches. He knew her body far too well.

He consumed her sounds and continued that rise. He wanted her undone, wanted every following touch to come with added sensitivity. When they left here, she would still feel him, and once they got back home, he doubted he'd leave it at that.

Hermione writhed in the silk grip and arched into his hand. Her breathing was more labored and uneven as he kept filling her over and over again. That focused touch in just the right way had her tittering at the edge. All she needed was one little push.

Draco could practically taste it. The way she struggled against those binds. Her chest pressed to his as he continued that domineering exchange of lips and tongue. "Mmmm," he sounded, pulling away. "You're being such a good witch for me," he purred into the shell of her ear.

She almost chased after his lips, her own lips still parted as she whimpered in a mix of need and longing. Her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. Though as his words purred in against her ear, adding the warmth of his breath and that praise, she moaned as she clamped down on his fingers. Pleasure made her body writhe, stealing her breath from her as she rode it out on his digits.

There it was, the perfect mix. He continued to tease her, letting her ride those soft, hot walls and claim his fingers with pleasure. "Too bad I still have to punish you," he reminded, letting the silk unknot from her arms. "Keeping secrets from your husband," he accused teasingly. It wasn't like he'd demanded anything, and they both knew neither could lie, merely conceal the truth. "You can bend over the table," he pointed to the wooden piece of choice, a few choice items left behind for them atop it in an aesthetic manner.

As she rode out her pleasure, her body trembled, but she lowered her arms gratefully and shivered as she looked up at him. That teasing accusation had her smirk just a little bit before she leaned in and nipped lightly at his jaw. "Only using your fingers wasn't the punishment?" She asked with a bit of that cheek once again, but she did as she was told and bent over the table, glancing at the few items left for their enjoyment.

"When I have this glorious canvas to work with," he said, palming her rear. He did so enjoy her curves now that they'd returned. Weeks of bringing her back from the edge she'd been on. "I do so like watching you squirm at breakfast," he taunted, giving her a swat without warning. She had enjoyed the paddle if memory served, and one was within reach.

Staying bent over as he palmed her rear, she chuckled softly and looked over her shoulder at him. "By that logic, I should always leave crisscrossing of my nails down your back and your chest..." she murmured, looking him over, wishing he was much more naked than he was. That swat had her breath hitch, and she stayed still with a bit of a smirk.

“Have I complained of your marks?” He asked, settling the paddle in his grasp and taking a step back. He brought it down on her. He’d always worn her claw marks with pride. “Though tonight is about leaving you thoroughly claimed,” he reminded. He still wouldn’t stop her from scratching him.

"No...you haven't..." she breathed, settling there on the table as he picked up the paddle. She wouldn't watch. The anticipation was half the fun. As he brought it down, she squirmed in place and shivered, gripping the table lightly. "Well...I am yours...."

“That you are,” he loved that. Reveled in knowing she was his. It was twisted. He knew that much, yet he couldn’t feel bad about it. He struck her again. He wondered if she’d chip the wood by the end of it. They’d enjoyed the bed last time. This time, he planned to make use of the space around it.

Her grip tightened on the table as she moaned once again. At least this time, she wasn't being forced to count. Staying in place for him was easy enough, especially as he kept up that steady rhythm of strikes against her rear.

Such beautiful shades of pink and red blossomed before him. He could practically taste the heat as he layered angry explosions in the paddle's wake. Settling it on the table once satisfied, he let his hands roam her rear. “So hot,” he squeezed her cheeks and pulled away, appreciating the sight of her. With a few steps, he plucked a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and began prying the aluminium. “I’d say this warrants a drink,” he smirked, popping the cork and letting the vintage bubbles trail over her reddened posterior.

The ache of the strikes had her squirm every so often. She could only imagine that he was reddening her rear more than the last time he had paddled her. His hands almost soothed over the reddened flesh, cooler than where he spanked. Looking over her shoulder at him, she started to raise a brow before she gasped at the chill of the bubbles rolling over her skin.

Draco met her gaze a moment before taking a knee to lick a run of wine off her heated cheek. "You can stand," he purred, ready to motion her to face him. He had every intention of tasting her, even if only for a moment. Put your leg over my shoulder, darling, he encouraged, slicking his lips as he met her gaze.

A soft gasp left her lips as he trailed his tongue over her rear. Even his tongue wasn't as warm as she felt right then. She slowly stood up, turning to face him. Looking down at him, she blushed a shade of pink that almost rivaled her rear even as she did as he bid, lifting one leg over his shoulder, leaving herself open to him. Running her fingers through his hair, she lightly chewed at her bottom lip. You're not done with me by a long shot, are you?

We're just getting started, his mind supplied as he claimed her core with the same need he had for her mouth. His tongue exploring, circling, delving between sucks and nips. Settling the bottle down, he gripped her cheeks with more firmness than needed, keeping himself tucked against her core. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed her like one might enjoy the finest wines, letting her linger on his tongue as he lapped. His gaze fluttered towards hers as he pressed more firmly.

A moan left her lips at the first brush of his tongue as he so intently lapped and explored her body again. Her hand tightened in his hair with a soft gasp that turned into a whine with how firmly he gripped her cheeks. Watching him, unable to look away from him there on his knees before her, she moaned his name before biting down on her bottom lip.

The way his name echoed in the room had the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge. Her gripping his hair gave him the motivation to pursue it. From her core, he licked across her pelvis and nipped above its bone. He painted smears of kisses across her belly and grabbed that bottle by the neck as he kissed his way up. He doted on her right breast, biting and sucking it before moving on to its neighbor to the left. Tipping her chin up, he smiled. "Open," his voice was soft and yet ever the demand.

How did she ever have a moment when she wasn't burning up when he was around? It had her nearly trembling as he focused so intently on her core. Another whine left her lips as he licked across her pelvis and started to move up her body. Her breathing remained a little uneven, another soft moan of his name leaving her lips as he bit and sucked at her breasts, hand staying tight in his hair. Opening her mouth for him without hesitation, she still arched a brow at him.

Tipping the bottle, he let it trickle past her lips, giving her a taste before altering the flow to have it drip down her chin, where he happily lapped. It tasted even better against her skin. Rather than stop, he let the crisp, bubbly pour, turning her into the most glorious fountain. The chill of the liquid against her heated skin, against his heated skin, almost as scalding as she made him burn for her.

Getting a taste of the bubbles, she licked her lips and was wanting to get more before it flowed down her chin and across her chest. She gasped at the chill and tried not to squirm. She was going to feel so very sticky at some point, and she would demand, in private, that he help clean her up properly after all of this. But the feeling of his tongue, so warm compared to the chilly liquid, had goosebumps forming and a shiver rolling down her spine.

Abandoning the empty bottle on the table, he explored her with his hands and licked as much off of her as he could. It wasn't just her that would be sticky by the end of it. Parts of his shirt clung to his chest from where he'd greedily leaned in to lap away at her skin. Reaching for his wand, he stripped himself out of his clothes, sending them flying out of dodge so he could press his body to her, claiming her in another kiss. She was the perfect mix of hot and cold against him, and those chains grated against his thigh as he moved to part her legs, against his chest as he leaned forward to pluck her from the ground.

Small shivers wracked her body as his tongue lapped up as much of the wine as he could, his hands exploring her body, making her shiver. The chains on her body felt even colder from the wine, providing a stark contrast to anywhere their bodies touched. It was like dabbling in sensory play without truly dabbling in it too far. Kissing him back, she nipped at his bottom lip, and her hand found its way back into his hair as her legs wrapped around his body. Mine. Her mind practically purred, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

Fueled by that single thought, he reached between them, aligning himself to claim her. He was hers, and she was his, as it should be. It made all the sense in the world, especially when he found himself fully sheathed into her. It had his head fall back on a moan, a hand on her shoulder pulling her down as the arm around her lower back to grip her hip helped guide her up and down his length. With a few steps, he found a wall to press her against, giving him more leverage to properly thrust into her.

Feeling the brush of him against her core, her breath hitched, and she ground against him slightly before stilling. The last thing she wanted to do was make it more difficult for him to fill her with that amazing length of his. As he filled her, she moaned, grinding down against him as she moved up and down as much as she could with the leverage she had on him. But it wasn't nearly as much as she wanted. Before she could whine, her back hit the wall, and her head fell back against it as he filled her with a proper thrust. "Oh..so good..."

"That... you... are," he praised, each word punctuated by a thrust. She was so good for him, like a balm on his very soul. Whether he deserved it or not wasn't the semantics he cared to delve into. Quickly, his breath grew more ragged, his body sensitive to the heat of her core enveloping him, the way she felt with every thrust, how she ground against him at every turn. He shifted his hold on her with the wall, offering a means to distribute her weight, eventually looping her knees over his arms to stretch and fold her to his will. His gaze fell between them, and he couldn't stop looking at where their bodies met—the way she made him disappear into her pink folds.

Arguing that she meant him was impossible as he emphasised his words with those thrusts. She was still sensitive from his mouth, from coming on his fingers, and she had craved this fuller feeling of him filling her. The man was gifted with his fingers and his tongue, but when he filled her with thrust after thrust, it was like they fit together far too well for any of this to be any sort of chance. But she pushed that away. That was the kind of strange sentiment that would imply feelings. Her nails dragged against the back of his neck as he shifted her. "What are you..." but as he looped his arms under her knees rather than letting them stay around his waist, shifting her so she was angled better, she cried out and arched. "Dear god..." she moaned, her nails digging into his back.

“Deifying me again?” He bit into the words, almost panting from maintaining that hardened pace as he delved into her. Though her body yielded to his with slick arousal, it was almost begrudgingly so. That smooth tightness that seized him in the most delicious vice grip. He saw stars every time.

Those hard thrusts had her tremble. Her nails dug into his back, dragging down as she moaned and gave a nod of her head. How could she not? Pants and moans were the only sounds she could get to leave her lips. Feels so good. Please don't stop. Please.

His chest pressed her more firmly against the wall, arching from those drags of nails into flesh. He wouldn’t dream of stopping. Of not chasing their pleasure through. It was always a calculated risk. Abandoning himself while praying he could get her to collapse before him. To have her bring him over the edge that way. Sometimes, his end brought on hers, and a few times he swore they’d been in sync. Especially on their honeymoon. You feel.. his mind could barely hold a thread. A mixture of possession and praise. Fuck. He couldn’t stop the sprinkled expletives. So good… he groaned, biting his lower lip as he struggled to keep together. She had a way of making him lose himself to her, in her.

Her breathing was more uneven, each thrust having him hit that spot inside of her over and over again with how he held her up against the wall. It had her whimpering her moans, the sound becoming more frequent as her breaths became even more uneven. She was getting so close. A second time for both of them. Apparently, they were staying even this evening when it came to falling apart as long as he could keep that up. Need... She hadn't meant to project the word as she tried to arch into him, limited in her movements with his arms holding her at that angle. Close. Those continual thrusts were building her closer and closer all over again.

Need. A single word he latched onto, allowing his mind to slip against her, to allow their bond to meld in ways only those as thoroughly bonded could manage. He knew either way. His pleasure was just over the edge. A few more choice thrusts and he’d be on a singular path. So he chased hers. Found the angle that sent shivers down their spines, assaulted that spot that struck at the base of his spine, threatening him with bliss that would happily bring him to his knees. He gave her everything he could, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he struggled to maintain the mixture of steady thrusts that allowed him to grind against her just right. Close his mind strained, knowing he was on borrowed time.

Her nails dragged down his back, clutching at him as she panted. Her hips rolled as much as she could manage to meet those thrusts, though at that grind just right against her while he kept hitting that spot was what did it. Digging her nails in harder, she nearly screamed for him again as her inner walls tightened on him, pulling him in as bliss and aftershocks of pleasure shook her body.

His teeth tore into the crook of her neck as she clutched him in a searing grip. Hermione cried out, squirming harder against him. It drowned the whine he laid to rest against flesh as he continued to pound into her, pushing more heated ribbons of pleasure where they met. She felt amazing, a mixture of pain and bliss blinding his vision until he stilled and brought her down with him as his knees met the ground unceremoniously. Gently bringing her legs down, he smoothed over them and up her body. Finding her cheeks to claim a breathless kiss.

Her nails dug into his back harder, whimpering as he continued to pound into her body until his own pleasure subsided. Aftershocks made her tremble as she held on close to him, needing to stay pressed to him as he brought them both down to the ground. As he lowered her legs, she shivered, leaning into his touches to kiss him back, her breathing still uneven as her hands smoothed over his body.

He wanted to praise her, to speak all kinds of words, but none came. Instead, he let his lips part hers in a slow and deliberate manner. His breath still ragged as he tried to still his racing heart. He doubted he’d be getting up any time soon, not with how weak his legs felt from the exertion. It had him reach to summon his wand, calling forth cushions and blankets to host them for a spell.

The kiss felt so much more intimate than their usual exchanges. It had her part her lips slowly for him and kiss him more deeply, that emotion from before coming back into play there for a moment. Her heart raced. She still felt sticky from the wine and now from the sweat. Once he summoned the cushions and blankets, she easily laid down there next to the wall with him, closing her eyes as she stayed on her side, her rear aching still, especially after being pounded against that wall.

For some time, he continued that kiss. He kept her close in their nest of plush pillows. When he finally pulled away from her lips, he sighed. “We’re going home soon,” he brought her hand to his mouth to kiss her wrist. “And I have no intention of sleeping." They’d need a shower. Her face was smeared with makeup, and it only drew him in to kiss the trails of her earlier tears.

The lingering kiss of it had her melting, warming to him even further as he kept her close. But as he broke the kiss, she almost pouted. The light kiss to her wrist had her smile more gently at him, and she couldn't help but chuckle. "I had a feeling you didn't intend to...I need a shower or a bath," she murmured with a wrinkle of her nose before she smiled again at the kisses to her cheeks. A spell could clean that up well enough.

“Mmm, definitely do,” he sounded his agreement, settling her arm down to touch her body. A bath would be nice, and though a door led to an adjoining bath, he didn’t want to linger here. Not when Theo's story was yet to unravel..

“Next bottle will go in proper glassware,” he offered with a cheeky smile.

She snorted at that and couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, so I'll get more than just a sip of the next one?"

“It was much better suited across this decadent body of yours,” he couldn’t help a bit of laughter himself.

"Oh, I see," she laughed before leaning in to kiss him again. Decadent. That was a new word for herself.

He met her lips playfully, nipping and keeping out of reach before claiming. Cupping a breast and strumming her nipple with his thumb.

Those nips had her shivering and chasing his lips with a giggle. Kissing him deeply again, but just as intimately as the last kiss, she moaned softly at that teasing touch.

A sound that reverberated through him, sending chills across his spine. He coerced her tongue and sucked it into his mouth, wanting more of her. She tasted far better than any drink.

Responding to him was easy, like breathing. Which should have worried her, but right now? She simply enjoyed it and shivered as he sucked in her tongue. She pressed closer. I'm all yours.

Three words were all it took for him to feel that ache between his legs. His, she was his, and it made him insatiable on the best of days. “All mine,” he agreed, rolling her on her back to settle between her thighs. He’d blamed their vows on honeymoon, but there was no such magic now. Only his many thoughts and her presence. He cupped her breasts and brought the together as their bodies aligned. He could only imagine how could those pillowy handfuls would feel pressed against his slick cock. Perhaps I’ll have you remind me, he teased her with the image, taking his time with his thrusts.

As he rolled them, she whimpered softly as her rear met the ground again. But as he thrust back inside of her, she gasped and arched under him with a moan. She felt incredibly sensitive and she couldn't help but tremble as he filled her body again and filled her mind with his images. Her lips parted, and she nipped at his bottom lip. Perhaps you should. Insatiable man that you are... but she was just as insatiable for him.

Whether it was his body compensating for those days of denials or just her, he couldn’t know. What he did know was when it came to her, he was insatiable. As if every over-sensitive thrust wasn’t the very epitome of her words. I was just fine until you came along, and yet he hadn’t been. Her warm embrace was merely a reminder of how he’d been surviving until that point. And still he couldn’t shake the feeling he had when he enjoyed himself like this, lost to everything she had to offer. This could be his undoing.

She had to try not to writhe under him at how sensitive she felt. Her body trembled as her hips rolled to meet his thrusts. Her gasps and moans were a mix of pleasure abs pain from oversensitivity, but she didn't want him to stop. Were you? Unlike before, it wasn't a taunt. It was a simple question followed by a thought that had her close her eyes as the blush in her cheeks deepened. ....I wasn't fine before all of this... it was a whisper of an admission. So quiet, even in his mind, that it could have been hid imagination. She had survived, not thrived. Half-starved of food and touch, barely getting by with the burning desire for revenge that hadn't been properly placed, and she'd seen far too many atrocities. Losing herself in him was simple. Easy. Like breathing. And it kept her, usually, from breaking further.

Was he? He hadn’t really felt need. Not really, it was honest. But I wasn’t wanton the way… He wasn’t even sure he’d sent it over. It wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. Not when he’d spent a lifetime perfecting control. She felt amazing and he couldn’t help himself. Unlike his harsher moments earlier, he took his time with every meeting of their bodies. Every thrust a sensory overload when combined with her sounds.

Neither was I. Sex had been an escape, a way to feel something rather than to dwell in all the pain and all of the madness that she had to run around and deal with. With him? It was an indulgence; liberating and satisfying and feeding a part of herself that she didn't want to think too hard about. Each careful thrust had her cling to him, her lips finding hiw with another intense kiss, but not nearly as heated or desperate. Another languid kiss with feeling behind it that she didn't want to voice.

The way her lips felt against his sent a shiver spidering down his spine. She made him feel something. Its name lost on the tip of his tongue. The sort of sentiment that made her lips taste like the grave he would see if he succumbed to such things. Draco didn’t pull away, didn’t stop as he rocked his body against hers. I have half a mind to apparate you home.

She hooked one leg around his waist, wanting to keep him as close as she could. Her tongue beckoned his, enticing him to keep that kiss with her. In moments like these she could pretend. Pretend that he cared more than just their survival, pretend that she could let herself feel something she really shouldn't for someone she had scarred and who had scarred her so deeply. It made her feel alive. I won't object. Would make it so much easier to keep me to yourself. Wouldn't have to be as put together...

After her appearance at the club he’d made sure he could leave its wards. Refused to be caught unaware with a member of the opposition or worse some witch hoping to catch him off guard. You the wards will only allow us to land in the foyer, he taunted. Perhaps the blanket would travel with them. He’d be keeping her to herself regardless. He kissed her more firmly before pulling back for a deeper breath. He tucked a strand of her mussed hair behind her ear.

The taunt had her shiver, had her blush a bit more deeply. The dress could easily be draped back over me...but my knickers are long gone... And she didn't care for them anyway. Her lips stayed parted as he broke the kiss, looking up at him with a bit of a smile, leaning into that light touch to her face as he tucked her hair back.

Continuing those motions he felt the ground for his wand. It took a few moments to summon her dress and his cloak. They could figure things out at a later time. “I think… I’d very much like… to take you back to our room,” he labored over the words as he did his breath. There would be no walk of shame. Not if he had something to do with it.

A gasp left her lips as she summoned her wand and the dress. The cloak that had been handed off to the girl working could be forgotten. As could the shoes. Those were easily replaced. This dress, however, was something she'd want to wear again. "I...I'd like that...Able to do more....with you in the comfort of...our room," she breathed. Our room. That was the first time he called it theirs.

Those words. He wanted to believe them. Wanted to believe that she wouldn’t leave him alone in bed again. Not when he could have her like this. Have her flesh to flesh, tangled and sated. Not trusting his tongue he nodded. He didn’t want to part with her. Didn’t want to pull away, but there were parts even he didn’t dare consider splinching. “Once we’re home I can fly us to bed,” he looked down at her. It’d offer her some modesty. A few more rolls of his hips into her, and he pulled out. He nuzzled her cheek and gave her a quick kiss.

If he tried to apparate them like this, she would overthink it and get them in trouble. He could distract her incredibly well, but she would need to be distracted to the point of being nothing but a melted mess of pleasure and want and need to not overthink apparation. As he rolled into her af ew more times, she nodded and then whimpered as he pulled out of her. Damn it. They'd be able to continue once home. "Promise?" She asked, looking up at him and kissing him back gently before she pulled that dress over her head so it could fall down her body. It would be the only scrap of cloth between them.

As she slipped into her dress he slid on his robes. “Promise,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a soft warning before disaparating them from the room and to the manor’s foyer. He caught a glimpse of a couple trying to sneak in but didn’t linger. Dark smoke enveloping him and his lover up the stairs, doors parting for them as he barreled through his hall and the study. It wasn’t much longer before he had her stood a few feet from the bathroom door.

The disaparating went smoothly as she kept her arms around him. Her hair was a mess and her dress askew, barely covering her body as she stayed pressed to him as closely as possible. The dark smoke enveloping them had her head spin and she clung a little tighter, but didn't throw a fit or try to pull away. As they stood before the bathroom door, she swayed on her feet a moment, letting out a slow breath. "...Need more practice with that...."

"We can start slow, around the garden. I can teach you," he brushed her cheek with his left hand before casting their clothing back to the floor and starting the shower. "Where were we?" he asked stepping into her, walking her back into the adjoining ensuite, claiming her lips.

"Lucky for the both of us, I'm a fast learner," she murmured, leaning into that gentle touch, chuckling as their clothing was cast back to the floor. Moving backwards with him, she kissed him back, one hand finding its way into his hair. The chains still gleamed against her skin.

Unlike others in his life, she was a breath of fresh air when it came to imparting knowledge. He smoothed over those chains. "You're lucky I'm fond of this," he reached the lower lengths of it to inch it up her body. He would have ripped it otherwise, sent bits of silver to the floor. Instead he carefully worked it up her curves, careful not to pinch skin in the process. He hoped she'd wear it again sometime.

A soft chuckle left her lips at that, and she couldn't help but smirk. "I'm quite lucky you're fond of it. Wasn't sure if it would get the desired effect...glad that it did," she drawled, reaching for the small clasps that helped hold the chains to her body to help him get them off of her so they could get cleaned up. Even the chains would need to be cleaned. she was sure they were also sticky.

"And what effect was that?" he asked, dropping them to the ground with a slinky clink. The elves could clean up. He had much better things to clean, and dirty, and clean again. A thick warm mist clung in the air from the shower. He led her towards its source, not stopping until they stood under the spray of the shower heads.

"Clearly keeping your eyes on me. You wanted to strip that dress off of me at the first hint of the chains," she teased just a little bit, but she looked rather pleased with herself as they got all of the chains off, letting them fall to the ground. As soon as the warm water hit her body, she sighed softly and leaned back, letting the water run over her body.

"Pretty sure everyone had their eyes on you," he grumbled, feeling some of the tension he'd been building slack from the warmth of those droplets hammering his skin. It felt nice. Not as nice as she had beneath him. "Almost had to gouge some eyes out," he purred.

She couldn't help but laugh softly at that. "Quite possibly. I thought Warrington was about to do something stupid," she drawled as she looked at him. Looking him over, she smiled more to herself before she grabbed the soap to start washing off her body. "Are you disappointed you didn't get to?"

"I'm certain I'll have opportunities soon enough," he smirked. His men were loyal. They had to be to remain at his side and survive. Warrington might have been more brawn than brains, but he had enough cells left to know better than to cross that line again. "We have all those events coming up." His hands roamed her body, laying claim to her.

"With the things I've been slowly planning? Quite possibly," she answered easily enough, though as his hands roamed over her while she tried to wash up, she shivered, leaning into his hand instead. She loved the way that he felt touching her. He knew her body better than anyone else ever had. Ever would due to their vows.

That had his brow perk, casting an amused and quizzical look. "Do you like the idea of a man losing a limb or part at my hand?" he asked. It seemed his lioness was bloodthirsty as well as teasing. "If you missed bloodshed..." he pressed her back to his chest, slotting her against him.

It was hard to explain. The fact that he would maim or kill someone for her was somewhat alluring. As was the fact that he let her kill for herself. Leaning back against him as she went back to washing over the front of her body, making sure she got off the slick stickiness of the wine, she shrugged. "...There's something appealing about the fact that you would rip someone apart for me...Has to be that more twisted part of my mind from this war..."

"I will maim or kill anyone that touches you," he promised, palming her breasts, tweaking her nipples. "Touching what's mine..." he smoothed down her belly. "I'll take a hand." He kept his words against her ear. "More dire attempts will end in slow torture," he vowed, reaching between her thighs, circling her clit with his fingers. "I wouldn't just rip someone apart. I'd obliterate them."

The promise shouldn't be so hot, shouldn't make desire spark through her. A moan left her at that tweak to her nipple, almost whining as his hand moved away from her breasts. Resisting the urge to grind back against him, she slowly spread her legs, making it easier for him to reach between them. Tilting her head back against his chest, she looked up at him, trying not to arch into him so eagerly just yet. "Would you? How thorough...."

"Shallow cuts in painful places first," he traced them on her body with his free hand. His fingers found a slickness he hadn't imagined at their topic of choice. "Deprive them of their tongue, their eyes..." he crooned. Hadn't the muggles come up with sensory deprivation to heighten the pain of coercion? He shouldn't have been rock hard, but the way she reacted only spurred him on.

The small part of her that kept resisting grew smaller every time. She couldn't believe she was getting hot talking about this. A shiver rolled down her spine as he traced her body and continued to stroke her clit. The suds that lingered on her skin were spread by his hand, making her body more slick as she got more wet at his crooned words. Closing her eyes, she took in a slow breath. "I think...you'd prove a point rather quickly like that..."

He'd go further. He knew he would. He'd extinguish an entire bloodline if he felt the offense great enough. He continued to tease her, tracing her slit until two of his fingers were in her. She gasped, the sound turning into a moan as she tried to grind back into his fingers.

"Would it?" he asked nipping the crunch of her ear, nudging her forward to replace his digits with his length.

She bent at the waist, bracing her hands against the wall of the shower so he could fill her back up.

The way she bent, offering him that reddened rear. He couldn't help the punishing pace he initiated in his need to claim her. His, she was his, and nothing but death could change that now. "Fuck you feel good," he praised. Her body welcomed him in that tight embrace against him. He knew he would be more reactive to her, all those earlier antics building him quickly.

That more punishing pace again had her gasp, her hands pressing into the wall a bit harder, wishing she could dig her nails into something. The connection with her still pink rear had her squirm, though all that movement made her grind against him rather than provide any relief. "So do you...so good," she praised in return.

A smack resounded in the air from his hand colliding with her backside.A cry left her as she arched back into him with a whimper, trying to find purchase against the wall so she could grip at anything at all. Her strained praises, the way she pushed back, it made him want to go further. It was irrational. There was no more space to bridge between them as he slammed himself into her abandon. Just as it had harmed, his hand reached around her waist and between her thighs to add to their motions to please.

The more she moved, the more she rubbed her already harmed flesh against his thrusting hips. She wasn't sure how she could handle much more like this after they had started and then stopped on the floor of the club. It didn't take long with his fingers between her legs, stroking skillfully at her clit, before she cried out his name as she tightened around him again in pleasure. Her head fell forward, her hair curtaining her face as she ground back against him.

Pleasure ripped through him, bordering pain. The way her body seized his length in a silken vice grip made him choke on an expletive. He held her through it, not daring to ride through her waves of pleasure. His other arm wrapped around her to pull her up. Clutching her to his chest and pressing them to the wall to catch his breath.

Hermione didn't fight the change in position. She leaned back against him, body trembling as she caught her breath again. Her cheeks flushed, and breathing labored as she tilted her head to look back at him.

Meeting her gaze he kissed her. Slowly, deliberately, keeping her tucked into him. His seize never faltering. She felt warm and soft like this.

Kissing him back, her body relaxed in the curve of his. The shower's steam kept her warm as she rested there with him. If he kept this up most of the evening, she wasn't walking without the aid of potions tomorrow.

Draco smeared kiss after kiss across her cheek and neck before settling against her shoulder. She pulled out the best and worst in him. “You should wash up,” he muttered, finally pulling away to do the same. “Still got some kohl…” he motioned for her cheek.

Hermione shivered and melted there against the wall of the shower. The feeling of skin against skin and the freedom of touch and affection kept melting layers of hurt that had built over the years. Once he pulled away, she sighed and brushed a kiss on his cheek before she grabbed her face cleanser.

From where he stood, he kept an eye on her as she seemed to want to fuse with the wall before moving to wash her face. He couldn’t blame her. Its tiles were likely soothing. He made quick work of his body and rinsed out his hair.

Washing her face and finishing with washing and rinsing her hair, she looked over at Draco, a little wobbly on her feet, but she wasn't shying away from him now. Nor did she wish to.

Eventually, he closed the water and grabbed a towel for himself before handing her one. He was starting to question how he’d manage to sleep if the result seemed unending anytime they were close or taunting. At this rate, they’d wind up with an heir regardless of their wishes. “Need any potions?” He asked, making his way to the cupboard where many were stored.

As she stepped out of the shower with him, she dried herself off and wrapped the towel around herself. She used her wand to dry her hair and walked after him with a shake of her head. "Other than another dose of the potion I've been taking? No..." She'd keep the marks on her rear and the few places where he pressed the chains into her skin a little too firmly. They'd be a pleasant reminder.

He wouldn’t have removed a single mark on her. Not even the ones at her throat. At least until they had to be out in public. He nodded. Part of him considered a sleeping draught. He couldn’t risk it, though. It was a luxury he was seldom afforded. Closing the door, he dropped his towel and walked towards the bed. Would she press against him again? There was a part of him ever so discreet that longed for her to do so.

Sending the towel to the hamper, she put her wand down on the bedside and climbed into bed after him, not bothering with putting on anything. Once he was settled, she pressed closer, moving to curl in against him like she had when she had been exhausted from lack of sleep. But now it was just for that proximity, wanting to feel his skin against hers even in this more innocent of ways.

Draco turned and slid an arm beneath her pillow. Was she always this warm? His steel-colored eyes studied her a moment. The outline of her face, the more sun-kissed tones of her skin against his pale white. It was a moment before his other arm moved to feel her hair and the tip of her shoulder. He wasn’t sure where to hold her—feared getting too close. This wasn’t exactly territory he knew much about.

The closeness he offered with his arm under her pillow made her smile again, that gentler expression rather than one of taunting or teasing. Her eyes slowly fell closed as his hand stroked over her hair and then down to her shoulder. "Mmm, that's nice," she sighed and shifted a little bit closer to him. Wanting that proximity.

She reminded him of her cat. How many nights had he found himself using it as a pillow because it had wanted heat? He half expected the terror to surface and try to weasel his way between them. “Yeah?” He asked, not denying it. The brunette felt nice like this. Tucked to his chest. “Goodnight … for now,” he couldn’t help the wry smile as he let his arms snake around her. At least she was conveniently close.

A soft laugh left her lips at that, and she kissed his cheek. "Mmm, for now. Let me get a decent nap before you ravage me again," she half teased before she yawned, wrapping one arm around him now to keep him close as she started to drift. If her cat tried to weasel between them right now, she would bother him till he ran off. Right now she was getting affection from her husband. Her cat could wait.