The door is locked
They fumbled at the fastenings of their clothes, eager to take advantage of the time gifted them. Shirts and pants were dropped unceremoniously to the ground. A loud tear rent the air.
“I liked that pair!” Hermione protested, even as she curled her fingers into Draco’s boxer briefs to tug at them.
She’d introduced him to the Muggle style shortly after they had first started having sex, loving the way they hugged his tight arse and emphasized just how wonderfully fit he was.
“I’ll buy you a dozen more,” he muttered.
He reached around and unsnapped her bra in one smooth twist of his fingers. The prat had done that the first time, too, and she’d been so shocked at the time that she’d bit down hard and made his lip bleed.
“That’s not the point, dear.” Hermione was going to go mad if he wasn’t inside of her soon. She’d been so wound up with everything lately and it had been far too long since their last shag.
“Save me your arguments on frivolous spending and waste. I can just vanish them so they never go near those barbaric landfills.”
She scoffed even as she warmed at the fact that he’d remembered her lecture on sustainability, a movement that didn’t seem to have any traction in a magical world where objects could literally disappear, be repaired, or transfigured into something new.
She crowed in delight as his cock sprung free, thumping against her stomach with a satisfying smack. They maneuvered their way to the bed.
Squeak!
Hermione tugged out the fuzzy snake on which she’d landed and raised an eyebrow.
“What? It’s Scorpius’.”
“I know it belongs to our child. I’m just wondering why it’s here and not with him.” Hermione spoke slowly, as if Draco, too, was a toddler.
“Must’ve missed it in all the chaos. Please, let’s just—” He descended, lips covering hers and attempting to turn her mind back to what they’d started.
She yanked her head away and smacked him over his glorious blonde head with Slither the Snake.
“He’s going to want it back and we’ll get interrupted. Again.”
They’d had to lie to their own child and pretend they were only hugging. She’d never seen Draco snatch up his pants as quickly as he had when Scorpius demanded in on the hug and leapt up to join them. Her husband hadn’t stopped pouting for days afterward and it had taken her a surprise visit to the underside of his study’s desk to get him to relent.
“The door is locked and Wimsy is under strict orders to leave us alone for at least two hours,” Draco said. He nearly whined, grinding against her to remind her of his prominent need.
“Wimsy!”
A House Elf with plaited pigtails popped into place at the foot of their bed. She didn’t even blink at the sight in front of her, even when Draco yelped and yanked at the blankets to cover them.
“Mistress called?” Big blue eyes blinked innocently up at them as she twirled her lavender skirts around her. Hermione was pleased to see she wore the matching slippers she’d gotten her.
She extended the green snake. “Please take this to Scorpius, and remind him to share with Lyra.”
“Yes, Mistress. Wimsy has the children well in hand.”
Just as quickly as she’d appeared, she disapparated and they were alone once more.
Draco gasped as the covers were yanked off him and cold air kissed his bum. Hermione pinched one cheek before rolling them both over to pin him to the mattress below her.
“Now, where were we?”