Muggle Sayings

I want to thank my amazing beta t_stevenson.

Please enjoy this little bunny that was nuzzling my brain.

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“Where are you off too, Granger?” He was frustrated, angry and so fucking hard. For her. Again.

A chilly gust of October wind ruffled his robes. He was cold after looking for her for more than an hour and, finally, had bumped into her in the Court Yard.

He watched her face display a handful of emotions – surprise, fear, anger, pity and, oh yes, curiosity. Quickly, she slipped on the mask of indifference she had taken to wearing around him since the school term had begun.

“None of your business, Malfoy.” Her voice tinged with just a sliver of annoyance and boredom. As if, he wasn’t worth her time.

Since the war and their return to Hogwarts, she had been avoiding him. Not that they’d ever been friends or acquaintances but she’d never been so deliberate and purposeful of distancing herself from his presence, as if he were dirt and scum. A pariah, an outcast.

He felt the anger seethe within him, she was the Mudblood, she was supposed to be dirt and scum. She was supposed to be the outcast, inferior to him. Not the other way around.

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to steady the anger and frustration. He was so sick of it. He was sick of himself.

He was so tired of feeling like shite all the time, tired of paying for his father’s mistakes. Lucius Malfoy and his stupid, moronic friends who had allowed themselves to be talked into following a sadistic Half-Blood with delusions of grandeur, thought Draco. Right; and where were they all now? Dead or in Azkaban. His father didn’t stand a chance of ever leaving Azkaban.

So here, he was back for his seventh year at Hogwarts. He’d come back to school in hopes of escaping. His mother was hidden away in Malfoy Manor, pardoned by the Ministry due to her last act of lying to the Dark Lord that Potter was dead. The Malfoy assets were frozen until Draco turned twenty-one. Narcissa was able to sustain her and Draco quite comfortably using the Black inheritance, which had always been kept separate from the Malfoy holdings. They could live quite comfortably in seclusion. Other than that, money was of little value, it bought you nothing but things. Of course, that is if your money was accepted. Things mattered not when you were looked upon with undisguised disdain everywhere you went.

Fuck them all!

Then she had to come back alone this year, with out Potter and that Weasel. And she returned looking – FUCK – she looked bloody beautiful. Her hair was still wild but now riotous curls framed the feminine heart-shaped face and tumbled down her back. Her complexion was creamy, her cheeks always aglow with a hint of pale pink from all her rushing about.

Her body had filled out as well. She was still a tiny thing, coming just up to his chest, but her breasts were lush. Her waist was small curving outward to hips that made him want to grab her and squeeze his hands around that pert arse that swayed with every step she took. He had sneaked a peek at her toned thighs when she had been sitting alone by the lake one afternoon. She’d shed her robes and her skirt had hitched up enough for a good long look.

Hermione Granger was luscious. He wasn’t the only one that noticed, either. All the Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff boys old enough to wank had noticed. The Slytherins had as well; he’d caught Theo and Blaise staring at Granger, more than once. He’d been surprised at how angry it made him, at the time.

Of course, she’d been named Head Girl and was bestowed all the title’s luxuries and privileges. The little Mudblood – Merlin, he had to stop calling her that – had a private dorm, bathroom and personal library, while he had nothing. In truth, he knew he deserved nothing but the knowledge didn’t lessen the sting.

He should have made Head Boy, if only his father hadn’t fucked up so royally. Instead, that arsehole Ravenclaw Anthony Goldstein was selected.

So, lost was he in his thoughts as he gazed down at her, he missed her sigh.

Malfoy was being Malfoy, she mused privately. “If there’s nothing else, good day, Malfoy.” She turned away, shaking her head.

“Granger, wait.” Gods, he hated asking for help. Especially from her, but he was forced to do this. “I-I . . .”

Hermione turned to face him. She had to admit she was curious. Malfoy never spoke to her. He never spoke to anyone except the handful of Seventh Year Slytherins that had returned to school – Zabini, Goyle, Nott, Parkinson, Greengrass and Bulstrode. They created no problems. Instead, keeping to themselves, a tightly knit group, never breaking away from their circle.

He appeared to be struggling with voicing whatever was on his mind; taking pity on him, Hermione softened her gaze and tone. “May I help you with something?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed at her changed demeanor, but her tone and expression made his heart ache. He sighed silently. “Yes. I need tutoring in Advanced Runes. Professor Babbling says I need to raise my marks. She recommended I come and seek your assistance.”

Unconsciously biting her lower lip, Hermione assessed the young man before her. And he was a man, not a boy. Draco Malfoy was tall with a lithe, muscular body. His hair was longer and shaggy, constantly falling in his eyes. She could sense both his anger and frustration, and knew that she was the last person he’d want to ask for help.

She opened her mouth to speak and was surprised at what came out. “All right.”

“Pardon?” Draco was shocked. Had she actually agreed to help him?

“I said, fine. When would you like to study? We could meet in the library. Are you available Thursday evenings, after dinner, perhaps around eight o’clock? Let’s start with once a week, if you think you need more help we can always find another day but we’re both quite busy with NEWTs, and I know you have Quidditch practice.”

Draco didn’t respond, he could only stare down at her. He was stunned.

“Are Thursday’s okay?” Hermione furrowed her brows, why wasn’t he saying anything? “Malfoy?”

“Uh . . . you’ll help me?” An incredulous expression on his face.

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Hermione snorted. “Of course. Apart from it being my duty as Head Girl, I would never let a fellow student fail a class, if I could help.”

“I don’t understand.” Draco was genuinely confused.

“What’s to understand? You asked for my help, I said yes. Honestly, Malfoy, it’s not rocket science.” She laughed at her own words.

“Rock-at . . . what?” He had no clue as to what she’d just said but was mesmerized by her light tinkling laugh that sent tingles down his spine and traveled straight to his toes.

She laughed again. “Never mind. Muggle saying.” She looked down. “I-I’d be happy to explain what it means, if you like.”

Suddenly, she looked up at him, her long tresses falling around her face. Her eyes the color of warm mocha, so open and honest. He felt all the tension in his body melt away under the warmth of her gaze.

Caught off-guard, Draco nodded. “Thursday. Library. After dinner, eight o’clock.”

He watched her smile and turn away from him. Draco didn’t move or allow his gaze to waver until she disappeared around a corner.

He didn’t think he’d ever understand her Muggle sayings.

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“You really shouldn’t have hexed Stephen, Malfoy.” Hermione hide a smile as she admonished Draco calmly.

It was nearly midnight; the library was quiet and devoid of all students. Madam Pince allowed Draco and Hermione to stay late, trusting the Head Girl to lock the doors when they were done studying.

They were sitting side by side in “their corner”, as he’d dubbed it, of the library. Robes, school ties, books, parchment and quills were scattered on the table in front of them. They’d become regular study partners after nearly five months. Though awkward at first, they’d gotten over their initial discomfort to focus on the subject of Runes.

The first stirrings of spring were just beginning to awaken the school grounds from their wintery slumber when Draco had noticed that they were meeting nearly every night in the library at eight o’clock. They studied every subject together. Somewhere, somehow, through all that studying they had unbelievably become friends. Despite their history, despite their bloodlines, despite their own friends, despite all the “rules” – Hermione and Draco had become friends.

Though an odd pair, to be sure, neither paid anyone any mind. She often quoted a Muggle saying when whispers floated around them as they walked together. She said, she and Draco marched to the beat of their own drum and shouldn’t allow other’s views to dictate their actions.

Merlin, she loved her Muggle sayings.

“He had it coming.” Draco was furious when the Ravenclaw had interrupted his conversation with Hermione in Transfiguration, a few minutes before class was due to start. In fact, he was still irritated, the anger simmering just below the surface of his carefully constructed façade.

Cornfoot, the wanker, had proceeded to ask Hermione to Hogsmeade that weekend. She had declined, of course. Smart girl. However, Cornfoot then had the audacity to sneer at Hermione and tell her in front of the entire class that she was a stuck up, little-know-it all prude who thought herself better than everyone else. Before Hermione could say a word, Draco sent a hex at the other boy leaving him naked as the day he was born. The class had erupted in laughter, but Headmistress McGonagall was not pleased.

Hermione was quick to rise to Draco’s defense and he’d gotten away with only one evening of detention. Nonetheless, he still felt immense satisfaction at having put Cornfoot firmly in his place. As if his girl would go out with anyone named Cornfoot. What an arse.

Draco went still.

Did he just call her . . . oh Merlin’s balls! He had just called her “his girl”. He’d been fighting the feelings that she roused in him for as long as he could remember. It wouldn’t do to think this way, she only saw him as a friend. Gods, he didn’t want to ruin what he had with her.

His head hit the table with a thud.

“Malfoy?” Hermione was alarmed. “Malfoy? What’s wrong??”

He’d had enough; she never called him by his name. She even called that prat Cornfoot by his first name. Lifting his head, he snarled, “Stop calling me ‘Malfoy.’ Fuck . . .”

His fisted hands came down on the table hard.

Hermione flinched, taken aback. “I-I’m sorry . . . I . . . you looked upset. I was worried.”

Running both hands through his hair, Draco laughed bitterly. “Worried? You’re worried?” He shifted his body to look at her. “And why are you worried? Hmm?”

She stared at him, her breath caught in her throat.

“WHY?” He barked, pushing back his chair and stood, towering over her.

“I-I . . . you’re my friend.” Hermione was perplexed, not to mention a bit frightened. What had happened to push him over the edge like this? She reached out to touch his hand.

“Don’t touch me.” His voice had dropped to harsh, ragged whisper. He pulled his hand back as if burned.

Hermione felt as if she was doused with a bucket of ice over her body. Her throat clenched shut, tears pricked at her eyes and her heart felt as if it was being torn from her chest. Had this been a game all this time? A ruse? She thought he had come to care for her, perhaps not the way she cared for him but she believed they were, at least, friends.

Looking down at her hands, a tiny hiccup and sob broke out. “My apologies, Malfoy. Of course, I’m a Mudblood, right?” She rose and began to gather her supplies and books, haphazardly throwing them in her satchel. “I don’t think you need any more help studying, Malfoy. Good night. Have a good rest of term, Malfoy.”

Draco, as if in a foggy haze, watched the lovely girl fight back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. It was as if he wasn’t in control of his body and emotions. He grabbed her and turned her roughly to face him, shaking her gently. “STOP. CALLING. ME. MALFOY!”

Hermione no longer cared about free-falling tears and felt them leave tracks down her cheeks. She was so angry and hurt at this man that she had risked everything for. Befriending him, in spite of what everyone thought. She had come to feel something for him she dared not name.

The wave of anger within her soul threatened to spill out and burn her very essence. Clearly, he had forgotten he was dealing with Hermione Granger.

“MALFOY, MALFOY, MALFOY, MALFOY, MAL . . .”

His lips were suddenly devouring hers. He bit her lips seeking to taste her, lose himself in her. Biting, sucking, licking, barely breathing, he lifted her bodily and sat her on the table. Pushing her legs open, he fit his body in between her lush thighs and pulled her closer.

Hermione was reeling. Draco Malfoy was snogging the very breath from her body. Oh, he felt and tasted so delicious. Her hands clasped behind his neck to pull him down towards her when she felt him lift her up against his body. She drew him even closer as if trying to bury herself in his skin. When she felt his lips leave hers and travel down her neck, her hands trailed down his chest and she tugged at his shirt. Freeing it from his trousers, her hands slid on the smooth expanse of his hot, muscled skin.

“Draco . . . oh, Draco . . .”

He chuckled, feeling her body shudder when he licked the delicate whorl of her ear. “That’s what I want you to call me, Hermione.” He grabbed her hands and pushed her back to lean on the table. “Let me look at you.”

Breathless, Hermione sat back on her hands while Draco kept her thighs spread open. Draco could only marvel at the erotic picture before him. The gorgeous Hermione Granger was panting with desire for him – shirt askew; curls flying wildly, skin flushed and her eyes a dark chocolate brown. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her but he’d be damned if he’d fuck this up, like everything else in his life.

“Beautiful. You are simply beautiful.” His hands traveled up her thighs. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you, Hermione?”

Fingers reached the edge of her knickers and her legs trembled in anticipation. “Do you know how torturous it’s been having you so close but not being able to touch you?”

Her head rolled back when she felt one finger brush against her aching center. She moaned.

“Look at me, Hermione.” When he had her attention once again, he pushed the rest of her skirt up. “Do you know how long I’ve wondered if you felt anything for me? Anything, at all? Me, a Death Eater’s son?”

“Dra . . .”

Draco shushed her. “And here I have you. I’m touching you and you want me. You do want me, don’t you?”

“Yes, oh yes, Draco.”

“How long?” He watched her eyes dilate with need when he pressed into her again, his fingers toying with her pussy over her knickers. “How long?”

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. “Since the holidays.”

Leaning in, he pulled her against him, grinding his hips to her core. “No more wasting time.”

She whimpered when he kissed her again, gently this time. Over and over again, he laid tiny, butterfly kisses on her lips as his hands roamed her body. He then cupped her firm breasts and rubbed his thumbs against the nipples he’d been fantasizing about for much longer than the holidays.

“Draco, please . . . love me.”

He was lost in her scent. “I already do, Hermione.”

Her arms wrapped around his waist, she buried her face into his chest and muttered a completely unintelligible sentence because his body muffled her lips. He pried her away from him and tilted her chin up, a question in his eyes.

Sighing, Hermione smiled, “I said, I love you, too.” She embraced him again and ran her hands under his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against her hands. “Take this off, Draco.”

He laughed. “We’re in the library, remember?”

Her little fingers began unbuttoning his shirt. “I remember. And I want you to touch me. I want you to kiss me. I want you to . . . make love to me . . . t-t-o f-fuck me.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Shouldn’t we date first?” He really could have hexed himself right then and there. Gorgeous Hermione Granger had just asked him to fuck her and he was trying to talk her out of it.

Her fingers had completely unbuttoned his shirt and were now tracing little circles on his flesh. “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing for the last five months? Albeit, not officially?”

She was right, of course. He hadn’t been with any girl nor wanted any girl since their first study date. And she hadn’t been seeing anyone, not from lack of interest from the boys at Hogwarts. Plenty had tried to ask the Head Girl out but she’d politely declined each and every one of them.

“Hermione . . .” He was an idiot but deep down he wanted their first time to be special and memorable, despite his immediate need to just throw her on the table and pound into her.

She nuzzled her nose into his bare chest. “Please, Draco.”

Dear Merlin, her gentle request went straight to his cock. “Is this your first time?” He had wondered if Krum or Weasley might have been lucky enough to introduce this sensual, beautiful woman in his arms to the wonders of sex.

A shy nod was his reply. His heart leapt.

“You’re first time shouldn’t be in a library, Pet. It should be on a bed, with exotic flowers and by candlelight. Special, soft and beautiful, like you.” Was he actually saying this? He had turned into a fucking sap. Someone just hold his wand up to his temple and Avada him at this very moment.

Hermione was now shrugging his shirt off his shoulders. “But it will be special and beautiful, Draco,” she paused to look and him, “It’ll be with you. Please? I have wanted you for so long. Please?”

Her eyes and her voice were his undoing. He kissed her sweetly and let her go to find their robes. He transfigured them into plush blankets before laying them on the library floor and then beckoned Hermione to him.

Gods, Hermione could feel how wet she was. She had masturbated to thoughts of Draco, experiencing incredible orgasms, but she had never engaged in anything physically serious with a man. And Draco looked so good, standing there in just his trousers.

He toed off his shoes as she approached him. She was fumbling with the buttons of her blouse when his hands stopped her. He pulled her down on blanket and had her straddle his hips. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

She shivered at the intensity in his eyes. “I don’t want gentle, I want you. Just be Draco.”

He fisted her hair and pulled her lips down to his. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering madly, she felt the wetness seep from her body as she moved hesitantly over his hips; her hands clung to his shoulders as his hands worked their way under her blouse. His fingers didn’t fumble awkwardly instead he tore the blouse, ripping it from her body and tossed the material to the side.

Draco was in heaven. Her body, her skin, her responses were perfection. One hand encountered the warmth of her breast still encased in her simple, white bra – utterly virginal, so like Hermione. He knew her little knickers would be white cotton – he prayed they would be.

Gods, he was such a deviant.

He lost that thought at the throaty moan she released when he plucked at one rosy nipple. He pressed a kiss upon her lips then tore himself away to suck at that taut nub. All the while, she muttered tiny “ohs, uhs and Dracos” as his other hand pushed and guided her onto his throbbing cock. He was desperate to slip inside her.

She could feel how hard he was through her thin white cotton knickers. His mouth and tongue were doing dangerously, wonderful things to her pebbled nipples and she could barely think. In fact, for once, she didn’t want to think, she just wanted to only feel.

His tongue, his hands, his body, his cock. She wanted to feel everything that was Draco Malfoy.

She didn’t think when his expert hands unclasped her bra. She didn’t think as he pushed her onto her back and removed her socks and shoes. She didn’t think when his grey eyes captured hers while he quickly unzipped her skirt. She didn’t think when she felt his skilled mouth on her stomach while greedy hands ripped apart her knickers. She didn’t think when he spread her legs open and feasted upon her pussy – biting, licking, humming and bringing her to a screaming orgasm that made her body go rigid from pleasure.

She was definitely not thinking when she felt Draco’s naked form press up against her, his hard shaft rubbing against her clit.

“Fast or slow,” he whispered.

“Fast.”

“It’ll hurt.” He kissed her lips.

She rolled her hips. “Don’t care. Just do it. Don’t think.”

He grinned. “Open wide, Pet.”

Without warning, he plunged in and she arched up in pain. It felt like a hot, thick bar had invaded her and she cried out. “It hurts . . .”

Draco didn’t move. He just held her close to him, preventing her from pushing him off her. “Sssh. Don’t move. Relax.”

She was panting heavily and Draco was concerned that he’d hurt her further if he moved. He needed her to calm down. He wanted her to feel some pleasure and worked to control himself from just fucking her into the ground. She was tight, wet and warm, and felt so good around his cock. He nearly lost all thought when she unconsciously spasmed around him.

Dropping his head onto her shoulder, he groaned. “Relax, Pet. Please.”

He kissed and sucked on her sweet breasts until she was whimpering and squirming under him. It seemed an eternity passed before he started to move within her, slowly and very carefully. She remained still and unsure, looking to him for instruction.

“Move your hips with me. Just do what feels good. Don’t think, remember?”

She nodded and began to move, trying to find a rhythm with him. Having him fill her was strange sensation but it wasn’t unpleasant, just different. Closing her eyes, she vowed to stop thinking and allowed the foreign and erotic dance to take her over.

Oh, it was beginning to feel . . .good. Yes, so good. It paid to not think.

Draco’s voice floated into her languid dream. “Take those pretty hands and play with those pretty tits, Pet.”

Draco was unsure if she would comply with his request but since she had asked him to be himself, he’d give her what she wanted. And the truth was he loved playing and experimenting with sex. His father had taken him to a high-end brothel for his fifteenth birthday and had a professional courtesan introduce him to all the pleasurable sins of the flesh. It was somewhat unconventional, but when had Lucius Malfoy ever followed conventions?

Since then, Draco was hooked. He loved fucking. And here he was fucking the perfect, sweet, virginal Hermione Granger. He vowed to make her love fucking as well.

But only with him.

She was rubbing her breasts and rolling her own nipples in her hands and fingers. The sighs and breathy moans were making him want to speed up his pace but he knew he needed to try and make this as good as possible for her.

“Open your eyes.”

She continued to pinch and pluck at her little peaks. He grinned, she was enjoying this but he needed her to listen. Lowering his voice, he added a hint of authority to the tone. “Open your eyes. Now.”

He was pleased when those twin dark brown pools gazed up at him. “I want you to enjoy this. Do as I say.”

He continued to slowly pump in and out of her tight pussy. “Take one hand and play with your little pussy and keep rubbing until you come. Do. Not. Stop.”

Hermione was beyond reason. Hearing his voice command her in such a way made her wetter and she could only obey his instructions. She felt so bloody good all over and didn’t want it to ever end. One hand slipped down to her clit and tentatively touched it. It was swollen and hard. Taking a breath, she began to swirl her fingers in slow circles the way she did when she was alone in her dorm room, fantasizing about Draco.

“Yes, that’s it, Pet. You like this? You like my cock, Hermione?”

Never once slipping from her, he moved so he was up on his knees. He lifted and pushed her legs farther apart to get in deeper. “I’m going to make you love my cock. Make you only want my cock.”

He threw his head back as he picked up the paced. Gods, this was so unbelievable. He gritted his teeth. “Keep playing with yourself. I want you to come.”

Hermione’s fingers sped up. She could feel the beads of perspiration trail over her skin. The combination of her fingers and Draco plunging in and out of her was so delicious. She wanted to come and let herself enjoy the feeling of the impending orgasm. Logically, she knew it was rare for virgins to have one the first time they had sex but then again, not every girl had Draco Malfoy fucking them their first time.

She was a very, very lucky girl.

She flew over the edge at that very moment, screaming out Draco’s name as she brought herself into blissful release.

Draco felt her pussy walls clenching tightly around him and he let go of her legs and dropped his body, pushing her hand away from her sex. He thread the fingers of one hand with hers and the other hand slid under her hips as he lost control and thrust deeply into her.

Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes. Harder and faster. Fuck, he could feel he was going to come and, again, the realization that he was going to come inside the lovely Hermione Granger sent him spiraling into a powerful orgasm, calling out her name.

Riding it out, he continued to spill long and hard into her until he collapsed on her body, breathing harder than he could remember in his life. He wanted to remain this way forever; locked to her, locked within her.

A small squeak interrupted his happy post-coital fog. Shite, he was squeezing the breath from his girl. He shot up to his elbows. “Sorry, Pet.”

Draco wasn’t sure what to expect but the sight that greeted him was one that would stay with him until he died. Hermione looked ethereal – dewy skin, bright smile, shining eyes and there was a light she exuded that seemed to envelope him in its warmth.

Licking her lips, she spoke quietly, “Thank you.”

He smiled and kissed her. “No, thank you.” He rolled off her body, muttered a silent and wandless Contraception Charm over her body and pulled her into the crook of his arm. “So, guess this makes it official. The rumors are finally true. I’m shagging you.”

She swatted at his chest, playfully. Sighing into him, she chuckled. “Lavender was so wrong.”

Confused, Draco looked at her. “About what?” When she shook her head, he prodded further. “Come on, you can’t not tell me. I’m your boyfriend, now, aren’t I? No secrets, Hermione.”

At the mention of the word “boyfriend”, Hermione stared at Draco in shock. He raised his eyebrows daring her to disagree with him and was rewarded with a little grin instead.

Clearing her throat, Hermione continued, “Well, she said, that you would never be interested in me . . . you know, sexually. Said, I wasn’t your type.”

Draco could feel a wave of rage crash over him. “Lavender Brown is a slag. She’d been dying for me to fuck her and I won’t. She’s a jealous bint who, I might add, has no idea what my type is. Which, by the way, is you.”

She laughed and pushed herself up to kiss him. It was meant to be innocent but she found that she couldn’t quite get enough of Draco. She continued to pepper him with little kisses before letting her tongue dart out to make contact with his lips.

Draco had reached the end of his tether. “You’re playing with fire, little witch.”

“Mmm, what if I want to get burned?”

By now, she was on her knees and leaning over him, running her tongue along his neck, her nails raking his taut, muscled stomach. He could feel his cock twitch to life.

Grabbing her, he rolled her onto her back and forced her arms above her head. “Time for round two, Pet.”

“You know what they say, Draco? Practice makes perfect.”

Draco let out a loud laugh; he was really beginning to love her Muggle sayings.

***********************************
Nineteen Years Later

“Stop running, please.” She was frustrated. Honestly, did he never listen? Just like his father.

A tiny blur of blond was darting up ahead, weaving in and out of the bodies occupying Platform 9 ¾. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a tall, handsome platinum-haired male grab the little bundle and hoist him up in his arms.

“See, Mum. Daddy got him.”

Hermione turned to smile at the ten-year old little girl with curly, honey-blond locks falling around her face in disarray. “It would seem so, Cassie.”

Cassiopeia Malfoy was a lovely carbon copy of her mother, interested in books and knowledge. Reaching her husband’s side, Hermione frowned at the little boy sitting happily in his father’s arms. “Orion Malfoy, we really need to work on your listening skills. It seems as if your ears keep falling off, you never listen.”

Draco fought back from smirking at the four-year old. “Orion, we’ve discussed this. You’ve got to listen to Mummy.”

The little boy’s face dropped and he pouted. “All right. I listen.”

“Father, may I go find James, Teddy and Hugo? I’m sure they’re on the train by now.”

Draco let his smirk grow into a full-blown smile at the sight of his eldest son, Scorpius. This was the eleven-year old’s send-off to Hogwarts. “Have you said good-bye to your mother and sister?”

Grinning impishly, Scorpius walked into his mother’s open embrace. “No crying, Mum. I promise to let you know where I’m sorted and to owl you every week. I’ll be home for the holidays before you know it.”

His maturity always caught Draco by surprise. His two sons were his exact replicas in looks, and while Orion seemed to have inherited Draco’s brashness, Scorpius had Hermione’s quiet and brave strength. His daughter definitely had Hermione’s keen intelligence but she was also known for her clever scheming.

“I love you, Scorpius,” Hermione whispered and kissed his cheek before pulling him to her for a final hug.

“I love you, Mum.” The young boy turned to his sister. “Cassie, take care of Orion.” He quickly hugged his little sister. Then he grabbed his youngest brother from his father and gave him a good swing in the air. “And you, tiny terror, be good and listen to Mum.”

Draco walked over to Scorpius as he set Orion down. “I’m proud of you. And remember, I love you.” He then hugged his son, warmly.

“Love you too, Dad.”

The Malfoy family waved good-bye as Scorpius boarded the train. His trunks and belongings had already been loaded. Readying to leave, they watched as the Potters, Weaselys, Zabinis and Notts all bid farewells to their children.

“Cassie, please take Orion.” Draco handed the laughing boy, who was ready to bolt again, to his sister.

Draco took his wife’s hand in his own and tugged her to him. Even after five years of dating and fourteen years of marriage, she was still sexy, curvy and as bloody beautiful as Seventh Year. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Hermione’s lips twisted into a smile. “All right.”

Draco leaned into to whisper, “Right upstairs with you when we get home, Pet. The elves will watch the children for a bit.”

She knew exactly what he meant and what he would want. He loved that she still blushed after all the perverse things they’d done and the many ways he’d fucked her, and vice versa. Her small nod and mischievous grin were answer enough; he’d find her naked, waiting and spread open in invitation for him in their bedroom.

After Apparating home, she began to walk upstairs after ensuring the children were looked after. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Don’t keep me waiting, Draco.”

Grinning wolfishly, Draco answered, “You know what they say, Hermione? Good things come to those who wait.”

Yes, he loved her Muggle sayings.

-fin-