Engagement Gift

Draco Apparated home to Malfoy Estate (he had sold Malfoy Manor upon his father’s death and he and his mother had moved to the more modern mansion) in a state of exhaustion. Who knew that informing trying to get an engagement announced in the Daily Prophet, in their “Engagements, Weddings, Births, Obituaries” section, none the less, was so difficult! First there was the witch who worked the front desk who attempted to seduce him, and then there was the deafening silence when he screamed, “Merlin’s balls! I’m trying to get my engagement announced!”

Although he loved Hermione, he had to admit that it did a wizard’s ego good when four nearby witches burst into tears.

And then he had to convince the Editor in Chief not to make their engagement the headline of the Evening Prophet. Although, with twenty galleons and a promise that it could be tomorrow’s cover story, he was lucky to get out of their Diagon Alley offices unscathed.

Needless to say, what Draco Malfoy really needed was a shot of alcohol – it didn’t matter what kind – and sex with his fiancé. Yes, that would make everything better.

“Hello, Draco,” came a sultry voice from the door of the study. His head shot up at Hermione’s voice, and what he saw made his cock shoot up, too.

Hermione stood in the doorframe, wearing three-inch stiletto heels and a silky, red robe. The robe ended at least five inches above her knees, so that her legs looked never-ending, and was tied so tightly that her cleavage was practically falling out. Under normal circumstances, her breasts were huge. Tonight, they were monstrous.

A chain of some sorts was around her neck, and ended in between her breasts. Merlin, were her tits huge. He couldn’t help but stare and stare, and imagine what he could do to her tits. Lick them, suck them, touch them, cum on them, the list went on.

Slowly, Hermione sauntered over to him, eyeing his lips, and the bulge in his trousers which betrayed him. He was glued to his chair, unable to take his eyes off of her hips, her breasts, her lips, although desperately wanting to touch it all.

When she was right in front of his chair, Hermione stopped walking, and smirked at him, one leg a little off from the other, and her hand on one hip. “Do you like what you see, Draco? Do you want it?”

A moan and a nod was all she needed to know that Phase Two was complete. She waggled her engagement ring in front of his face, and whispered, “Well, Draco, you do have it. Would you like me to show you exactly what you have?”

Immediately his eyes went to her face, trying to figure out what game she was playing. “Yes, I do,” he drawled, a little over the shock of seeing his conservative fiancée do such sexy things.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and began to saunter out of the room. “You’ll have to follow me, Mr. Malfoy. You need to examine the merchandise under the very best light to make sure that it’s to your liking.”

Very rarely had Draco ever jumped out of a chair that quickly. By the time he was to the door, she was at the other end of the hall, and called, “One of the spare rooms has been properly adjusted so you can make sure that it’s what you want. Come this way, Mr. Malfoy. The merchandise is very sensitive and wishes to be let out of its restraints.”

The room she was speaking of had been her special project for awhile, and Draco knew exactly what she was talking about, to an extent. He knew that she had wanted it to be a surprise, and that he wasn’t allowed inside. He also knew that there were mirrors on three of the walls and a silver pole in the middle, because he had to sign for them when they were delivered. What he didn’t know was what they were for.

He was in for the surprise of his life.