Careless Whisper

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Careless Whisper
CH 13 – Something About The Way You Look Tonight

Ron and Hermione dashed off to prepare Draco and tell him the good news while Wood continued to peruse the ancient text, a smirk not unlike that which often graced Malfoy’s face numerous times plastering itself to his features.

*****

Draco woke from his less-than-fitful sleep and looked around him at the empty infirmary. Since this appeared to be one of his more lucid moments, he started weighing out his options, ticking them off on his fingers, and muttering out loud.

“One. I could get my sorry arse out of this bed and jump out that window over there, effectively ruining Lucius’ chances at power…and have no hope of a future with Harry as I would be dead myself. No good.

Two. I could get someone really pissed off until they cast Cruciatus on me to the point that I become a blundering git…but then should Lucius still use me as a harbor for evildoing, people would just blame it on my craziness and it would never be resolved, and once again any hope of a future with Harry would be squashed because I wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to be with a slobbering dolt.

Three. I could brew a Living Death potion and sleep forever. But then, again, what to do about Harry? It all bloody boils down to Harry.

Four. I could just sit here in this miserable bed and hope to Merlin that Harry gives in about the bond so that we can get rid of this old bastard in my head and live happily ever after…

Five…”

“I liked number four personally,” Hermione interrupted from the door. “He’s coming.”

Draco shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Oh?”

“The errand he had to run? The one he tore out of here to do? Apparently there’s been a ring waiting for you for some time. What do you think of that, sourpuss?”

The blond rolled his eyes although a slight blush crept into his cheeks and he grinned sheepishly.

“I won’t tell him that you didn’t have any faith in him. But you might want to get showered and dressed. We’ll be performing the bond as soon as he returns,” Hermione spoke conspiratorially as though this were some huge secret they needed to keep. “Now, wash up. I’ve got to help Ron get everything ready.”


*****


Hermione lit the last wick in the candelabra just as Ron entered the Room of Requirements where they had chosen to perform the ceremony. He was carrying a set of indigo dress robes for Harry as well as a roll of parchment with a translated version of the chants and incantations required for the ceremony. Looking at his wife, a gentle smile warmed his features.

They had been married for three years now and she still enchanted him. Hermione was his everything. She had been the one he ran to when his sister was killed. She had been the one whose shoulder he cried on over the loss of his parents. She the one who listened to his problems with work and his concerns about Draco and Harry. She was the one who welcomed him to bed every night with open arms and a willing body. She was the one who greeted him each new day with a smile and a kiss. What else was there in life? What else could he possibly need?

Ron busied himself reading and rereading the spells so that he wouldn’t foible things up for his two friends all the while hoping that they might share with each other even the smallest fraction of the happiness he had found with Hermione. If they could have three years of happiness anything like she had given him, leaving would never be a possibility again. He doubted even Lucius could put their love asunder if they could only share a love like the one he had with Hermione.

Three years…three beautiful years together. He looked over at Hermione appreciatively. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a loose braid and gentle ringlets framed her face, which had softened since the war. There was easiness and a subtle grace about her as she moved about the room, lighting candles here, adjusting a curtain there. The wine-colored robes accentuated her figure perfectly, showing off the small swell of her breasts and following down her slender figure to the even roundness of her hips.

All of a sudden, an idea struck him. Three years. They needed to make a baby. A baby was just the thing that would make his life even better. He had never imagined himself as a father; but now that the thought had planted itself, it seemed to be the only thing he could think of. Making his way to his wife, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.

“Ron, what are you doing?” she asked, looking at him with confusion in her face.

“Do you love me?”

She laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I love you. What’s this about?”

He laughed with her for a moment before answering. “Hermione, I love you with all my heart. I’ve loved you forever, even if I didn’t realize it. You are everything to me…And, well, what do you think about having a baby? You and me?”

…

“A baby? Ron, are you serious? I love you and, Merlin, I would love to have a baby. But why on
earth now?”

The confused look lessened while a rosy glow spread onto her cheeks as she unconsciously splayed a hand across her abdomen, imagining what the movements of a babe might feel like.

“I was just thinking how I hoped Harry and Draco could have a fraction of the happiness that I have found with you and …I don’t know, I just thought…why not have a baby. Not because the war is over and it’s safe, not because of what we’ve all lost. Not for any reason other than you are my wife and loving you the way I do makes having a baby with you feel like the most natural thing in the world. You don’t have to make a decision right now, but I had to mention it…”

He was interrupted when his wife leaned up and pulled his mouth to hers in a gentle kiss. She took his hand and led him from the room to her private office. Summoning a bed, she smiled demurely at him.

“What is this?” he asked.

She smiled up at him as she lay on the bed and began unbuttoning her robes. “This is making a baby, Ron. This is us, you and I, creating a little witch or wizard that will always carry a little part of us in them. Come to me,” she whispered.

Ron shed his own robes and leaned over her. Pulling her hair from the braid, his hands roamed in the untamed curls that fell loosely down her back. Hermione ran her hands across his chest and over his shoulders, marveling at the man he had become, her man.

He explored her body, placing little kisses and nips along her jaw line, down her throat, and across her collarbone. Her body arched toward him of its own will while her own hands delved down to guide him into her. Together, they met with a rhythm that came as second nature, increasing with urgency and need as both of their bodies sought climax.

Later, they lay entangled in the sheets and each other; each thinking about what the future would hold once a baby entered their life. Slowly, lazily, they dressed and returned to the duty they had forgotten for a few moments.

Hermione smiled to herself thinking that no matter how hurried or leisurely they made love, each time she was with Ron was better than the last. Perhaps that was what marriage was about, what love was about. Yes, she hoped that Harry and Draco could experience a moment of what she and Ron shared together.


*****


Draco found himself in the shower, the water scalding his pale body. He seemed to have pushed Lucius away for the moment and was enjoying the time to himself. It was uncomfortable having someone else in his head, especially the man he had killed.

Humming to himself, the blond rubbed soap over his entire body, wanting to be perfect for Harry. They had made love exactly once since Harry had come out of his coma and before Lucius had taken up residence in his mind. Draco was, of course, relieved that Harry had agreed to the bond but perhaps looking more forward to what would happen between them after the ceremony. It had been too long since he had held Harry in his arms, since he had run his fingers through that ebony hair, since he had been held enraptured by those emerald eyes.

Looking down, Draco realized that he had started absently massaging the erection that had developed from thinking of Harry. His Harry. The Harry that would be his forever after this night. Because, really, weren’t they essentially marrying each other? He would never lose Harry again. He would never let Harry go again. There would be no more Voldemorts, no more Lucius’, no more Blaises, no more Narcissas to come between them. They would be as happy as he had always dreamed of being.

Pumping himself harder, Draco finally spilled seed over his hand and down his legs. Smiling, he merely reached for the soap again and thought that it was going to be a long, mind-blowing evening spent with the only man he had ever loved.

Stepping out the shower, he looked at the robes that Hermione had brought for him to wear. Charcoal velvet robes. At least they were up to the standard he liked to maintain. Slipping into them, he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked amazing, but he always did. But then…

Then there was that little voice in the back of his head. The voice of his father. The voice of Lucius Malfoy.

“Why not get a panderer? How much is the Boy Who Lived paying for his little whore? That’s all you are, isn’t it? His little whore?”

Draco looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw his father staring back at him. “You filthy little faggot. You are no Malfoy. You are an abomination. If I had only known, I’d have killed you when I had the chance…”

Draco interrupted him. “But you didn’t have a chance, did you? No, I had the pleasure of killing you. And you’re wrong. I don’t need a panderer. I’ve already had one, haven’t I? I’ve never been anyone’s whore but yours. You’re the one who pandered me to that fiend you worshipped. He was the abomination. And you bowed and simpered before him. You’re pathetic. You were pathetic then, and you’re pathetic now. Go. I will not have you ruin this for me.”

And to his surprise, Lucius slipped away. Draco once again recognized his own defiant glare staring back at him from the mirror. Adjusting his robes a final time, he went to await Harry’s arrival.


*****


Harry rushed back into Hogwarts out of breath and excited. Running through the halls, he found his way to the Room of Requirements and entered. Standing before him, in the center of a circle painted on the floor, was the only man that had ever mattered to him. Wrapped in velvet robes the color of his eyes, Draco looked like some newly-created Adonis.

Turning, Draco looked at him and smiled feebly. “You’re late.”

Harry ran up to him and took his hands in his. “You’re beautiful.”