Unsere Lieben Frauen

This story takes place at the same time as Valentine’s Day but should be read after it. It was inspired by the manip made by xxminniexx. The picture is used with xxminniexx’s kind permission and can be viewed here: http://linkar123.livejournal.com/6794.html

My big thanks to kazfeist for her great beta work on it! If you would like to discuss the story with me, you are welcome to leave your comments on my Livejournal page: http://linkar123.livejournal.com/6794.html

The mention of Heorte Lustbaere, the lust potion, refers to my multi-chapter fic, Lust, War and... Love

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“How was it at the Ministry?” Draco took in his wife’s sleepy countenance.

She let her ample brown hair down. Her curls heaped on the top of the back of the couch and he fingered a wayward lock on her shoulder. Will he ever know his own wife fully?

“Hectic.” Hermione yawned and pressed her cheek against his knuckles. “How was the meeting with the goblins?”

“They’re thick as ever. Harry told them again that dragons would do little for their security enhancement. Jaylork, the Gringotts bigwig, took offence.”

“No wonder. They ordered several Norwegian Ridgebacks a few weeks ago.” Hermione curled up against Draco’s side. “Cost a fortune. Harry told me at work.”

Of course. She’d been talking to Potter as usual. She’s so cosy with me. Was she the same with Harry?

“I reminded them that a dragon didn’t prevent my Auntie’s vault from being ransacked.” His wife looked so alluring now. Draco knew how she would respond if he signalled his lust for her. “Told Jaylork that Mr. Potter and my own wife personally put that dragon to a test.”

Hermione chuckled softly. Her dark red robe parted at her bosom, revealing her delectable cleavage. His fingers slid under the soft fabric and found the swelling of her nipple.

She stretched with all her body, cat-like. Her heavy-lidded eyes met his, and he knew she was getting aroused from his touch.

“Come to the bedroom in ten minutes, Draco boy,” he heard her breathy voice.

Then he watched her disappear in the doors of their intimate sanctuary. She swayed her backside at him, and the red dressing gown accented her slender shape perfectly. Her smile beckoned at him over her shoulder, and, Merlin, he was getting hard…

The same second another image flashed in his mind. Long cinnamon red hair, swinging to the side, and him kissing the cute freckles on her shoulder, and the woman’s curvy hips grinding into his loins in her heated ecstasy.

They both were so different, and so alike at the same time.

When it came to sex, Hermione was a connoisseur, and what an exquisite art it was with her… Exploring, teasing, experimenting, refining, surprising, bringing it to new heights of passion - it was the essence of Hermione, the sweet minx, which he’d discovered in their sixth year at school.

Ginny Potter was earthy and all-embracing in her love for a virile male body. Fire was the colour of her hair, and the same fire burned in her soft belly. She did not bother with finesse or sophistication, but, ablaze with lust, threw herself at him and consumed whatever he gave to her.

And how similar they were… Draco knew he could woo any appetizing witch, but he realized early on that not every woman could give him that ultimate pleasure.

He needed to know his witch, to have something in his heart for her to be able to play her like a musical instrument. Only a woman attuned to him could truly excite him. That was precisely what Hermione and Ginny shared

Draco recalled the muscular figure of Harry. If his wife were doing it with a lesser wizard, he would be offended. Profoundly disgusted. Deeply insulted. Vengeful.

But Potter was a worthy match… Draco had to admit that Hermione had excellent taste in men. He already knew for certain that that redheaded disaster of a wizard held very little masculine appeal for Hermione. It took more than a toned body and cocky looks to seduce Hermione.

How good was bloody Potter with Hermione in bed? Draco knew that he was capable of driving his wife to the utmost ecstasy, but the worm of self-doubt had already started gnawing at the back of his mind. Which he did not like at all.

Draco glanced at the door, and felt his desire rising. He would ravish his wife now, and let the matter rest. Until Saturday, when Harry and he would play Quidditch together.

******
“Well, indoor Quidditch isn’t the same thing, really,” commented Adrian Pucey, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “The Quaffle bounces off the walls, even with the Extension Charm.”

Harry wiped his face with a towel. “The Ministry has poured millions into this newfangled sports complex for the employees.”

“I’m not saying anything - the venue is bloody impressive.” Adrian headed to the exit out of the locker room. “It’s only that indoor Quidditch has its limitations, no matter what the place is.”

“With all this fucking rain and sleet out there, I’d rather fight a ricocheting Quaffle inside,” drawled Draco, emerging from the showers with a green towel wrapped around his loins.
Jedediah Simpson and Pegasus Finkel, both from the Magical Transportation Department, waved a good-bye, as they hoisted their oversized brooms on their shoulders and followed Pucey out.

Harry glanced over the blond man’s tall, lithe physique. His body strong, but not burdened with an excess muscle mass, moved with aristocratic grace. He probably could understand why their two witches lusted for this wizard. Harry’s eyes followed Draco as he headed to his locker and rummaged for clothes in it.

Ten years ago Harry would never have thought that he would have any affinity with the young Malfoy. Nevertheless, what he witnessed about Draco during the two years before the final battle with the Dark Lord planted in his heart a seed of empathy for his old school nemesis.

Post-Hogwarts, the small seed evolved into a tacit companionship between the two of them.

They had been both branded by Lord Voldemort, and struggled with it for years after his demise. Both of them had become masters of the Elder Wand at some point. They had saved each other’s life.

Now they collaborated on several big projects. The assistance of the Auror Department was indispensable to the sprawling enterprises of the Malfoy family.

Bloody Merlin, now they loved the same women.

Was it wrong of him to have become intimate with Hermione? If he followed convention, it was a dissolute thing to do.

If he listened to the voice deeper in his soul, the physical intimacy was the final touch that was long overdue in Harry’s close relationship with Hermione. In reality, it always was more than an ordinary friendship bond. Now it felt so complete with her - in bed.

Was he betraying his wife by this? Harry couldn’t figure it out. Ginny gave herself wholeheartedly to their lovemaking. But he wasn’t sure if he was enough for his passionate wife. These thoughts kept chewing at his brain like an ugly, hairy caterpillar.

The two witches held very different places in his love life. Ginny was his fiery vixen, eager to mess around and have good adult fun with him. She was also his home, and many times he found his respite in her after a hard day.
Hermione was more - how would he call it? Intellectual? He enjoyed her way of exciting him. Like Ginny, she savoured sex, but with Hermione it was more refined and more deliberate.

Women generally noticed Harry, and he knew it, but he was far from being a womanizer. Ginny and Hermione were the only ones with whom he could set himself free…

“Oi - Mr. Scatterbrain? Devising a better mousetrap for the Gringotts morons?” Fully clothed, Draco was standing in front of him, his arms crossed on his chest.

“Get your arse out of my way.” Harry reached for his wand. His clothes flew out of the locker and landed in a heap on the bench next to him. “The Nines then, as agreed?”

“I’m in dire need of a stiff drink.” Draco shrank his broom to fit in his bag. “After your attempt to pocket my nose together with the Snitch.”

“Not my fault that you had it right under your nose, Malfoy.”

The main hall at the exclusive private club, The Nines, was luxuriously appointed, fashionably dark and oppressively quiet. A few wizards conversed in hushed voices in large chairs in a better-lit spot.

An elf in a black suit and blindingly white shirt materialised in front of Harry and Draco, holding a silver tray with two drinks on it.

“Blairmhain’s Finest, Mr. Malfoy?” The elf bowed, his tray high above his head. “Ogden’s Old Reserve, Mr. Potter?”

“The far chamber, please.” Harry took his drink. The elf bowed again and disappeared.
“My dad’s still fond of Ogden’s,” sneered Draco and took a sip of his drink.

“Well, it’s not really the reason to dismiss Ogden’s,” Harry replied placidly, as they strode across the main hall.

“I’m merely stating the fact.” Draco noticed that the wizards in the chairs stared at them, and he whispered to the raven-haired man, “Don’t you think those look so perfectly ironed and clean-shaven?”

“Probably new to The Nines,” answered Harry in a low voice. “Don’t recall seeing any of them before, though. If anyone of them is from the Ministry, then he isn’t high up there.”

“Not many can barge in, wearing ratty old shirts, like us,” smirked Draco and made his bag hover in the air in front of him.

They strolled down the hallway and talked with a deliberate casualness. But each of them knew what was on the other’s mind. Nor tried they to hide their thoughts. Both were good at Legilimency, although neither of them was using it at the moment.

The secluded chamber was small, but the soaring vaulted ceiling and the tall Gothic pillars gave it an impression of a much roomier space.

A tray with succulent bacon sandwiches and black caviar canapés was already waiting for them on the mahogany coffee table, flanked by two voluminous armchairs. Two crystal glass decanters with amber-coloured Firewhisky gleamed in the soft candlelight.

“If the goblins continue like this, they’re bound to lose their business to new competition.” Draco poured Blairmhain’s in his tumbler and settled in one of the chairs. “I’ve been looking into Credit Charbonneau lately.”

“That Muggle bank in France?” asked Harry, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds good. The French aren’t so paranoid about the Wizarding Secrecy Act as the British.”

“Yes, and I could expand it to England then.” Draco summoned a sandwich. He was ravenous after good three hours of exercise. “Need to run it past the Ministry before the acquisition.”

“Shacklebolt would love to bring down the Gringotts monopoly. Who is in on the plans? Your father?”

“Only Zabini and you. I‘m not letting Father near it. Enough of his crooked schemes.”
“Some investment capital backing from Blaise?”

“Yeah. Hermione isn’t in the know yet. She’s quite sensitive about the whole Wizarding Secrecy issue.”

“I think she could be agreeable. Gringotts is a monster.” When Hermione’s name came up, Harry registered the momentary tension in Draco’s face. “After all, she had us both see that French therapist.”

“Monsieur Lefevre? He was bloody good.” Draco took another bite of his sandwich. “They wouldn’t let him practice in London - he mixed Muggles and wizards together too much.”

“Shame on the Brits. He helped a lot.”

“Yeah, that recurring dream of yours, in which I tortured Rowle on Voldemort’s orders and then morphed into you, was no joyride.”

“Only Lefevre could make us to have a session together to dissect that nightmare.” Harry swallowed the last of his sandwich and gave a chuckle. “We nearly killed each other, but the doctor was damn pleased, remember?”

Draco issued a short laugh and refilled his glass.

Harry took a long sip. Pleasant warmth from the fine liquor spread in his chest.

They both were beating around the bush, not sure how to broach the very subject that was the main purpose of their tête-à-tête.

Harry ate two more canapés. He was not hungry anymore, and the alcohol relaxed him somewhat.

Draco raised his glass. “To the smart French shrinks.”

“To the success of the Credit Charbonneau plans,” responded Harry.

The crystal rims clinked, and silver grey eyes locked in with emerald green.

Each of them drew one more long sip.

“Well…” Harry rested his head against the tall back of the chair.

Draco stretched his long legs and studied the amber liquid in his glass.

“Shall we move on to family matters?” His words sounded overly cautious, he knew.

Somehow, it became terribly important for him not to aggravate Potter. Damn, this was not a board meeting, after all.

“You mean - our marriages?” Harry’s chest tightened. Relax - you and Malfoy are in the same boat.

A sudden wave of anger washed over Draco. He slammed his tumbler on the table and the liquor splashed on the polished wood surface. “Fucking shit, Harry - we fuck each other’s wives!”

Harry held Draco’s stare. His own chest was now heaving from his barely contained rage.

“The main question is how to handle this situation, Draco.” Harry spoke slowly, in order to keep his emotions in check. He had to approach it like an Auror, and not like an infuriated husband. If there ever was any proper way to deal with it.

“You talk like a shrink,” retorted Draco, and sank back into his chair. He felt his cheeks flush slightly, and it embarrassed him. Bloody Merlin, he was blushing like a teenage girl.
Draco summoned his glass and took a gulp. “Well, what shall we do now? A Nott-Zabini style spouse swap? Divorce and remarriage?”

Draco’s tone was clearly jesting, but Harry’s heart faltered nevertheless.

Ginny was his closest companion, after all. His job was far from being orderly and predictable, but Ginny held his home together, while raising their two boisterous sons. She made it a haven of stability and comfort for him, and many times he came to the delicious aroma of fruit pies wafting through the house.

He would kiss her cinnamon red hair from behind when she was working on a piece for the Daily Prophet. She would turn her head and reward him with a sunny smile. The thought of losing it all scared Harry.

“You mean - you aren’t on good terms with Hermione anymore?” Harry spoke calmly, but his hand clenched his glass harder in anticipation of the bitter truth.

“Merlin - I -…” Suddenly, Draco visualized what would happen if Hermione parted ways with him.

What it would be like if his polished Malfoy lady and the proud mother of his two children were gone from his home for good?

He couldn‘t imagine it without the benevolent hostess of their Windsor mansion, whose poise and sophistication he always adored. The very thought of it unnerved him.

And, away from the public eye, Hermione was the one who generously accepted him the way he was, comforted him when old nightmares tortured him, helped him face himself and made him feel like a better man.

“No - Hermione and I are all right, actually.” Draco glanced at Harry and saw his jaws relax a little. “Ginny tells me she loves you - you’re very important to her.”

Draco knew it sounded inane in their situation but the redhead had indeed said those words to him the other day.

“Does she?” Harry’s tone wavered between doubt and relief. “She told you so?”

“Yeah, she started all that talk about what matters to her. Said she had been attracted to me since school, but in her marriage it’s different.” Draco gulped down more Firewhisky. “You’re her life, and I’m just - you know.”

Harry got to his feet and strolled around the table. He stared at the remaining canapés thoughtfully. “Hermione once said to me that you’re the biggest love of her life. After we had sex. I was okay with it.”

Maybe not quite okay, since I knew that you, Draco Malfoy, cooked that lust potion and ensnared my best friend. But Harry understood that he did not need to share this with the man. Hermione had made her choice. Besides, there was Ginny in his life.

“What never ceases to amaze me - “ Draco stood up and looked directly into Harry’s face.
“That you didn’t shag Hermione when hunting for the Horcruxes.”

“It was different then.” Harry picked a canapé. “Ginny and you kissed the same year, but that didn’t amount to much.”

“Yeah,” Draco rocked on his heels. “You aren’t Saint Potter anymore, now.”

“I never was a saint,” Harry bristled. “Others wanted me to be one!”

“Just like the others want me to be the Evil Malfoy,” smirked Draco.

“You aren’t evil.” Harry swallowed his canapé.

“Yeah, you’re so forgiving…” Draco gave a small smile. “Except you can’t really forgive me Heorte Lustbaere.”

“You’re one damned Legilimens,” Harry huffed.

“Very useful in life, don’t you agree? Especially when it comes down to your wife’s love affairs?”

“Speaking of our wives -” Harry looked into Draco’s eyes. “We need to let them know that we are aware of the whole mess.”

He knew it would mean a break-up with Hermione for him. But he had to respect Draco, and thence, no matter how much he was going to miss her, he had to let her go.

Draco studied Harry’s solemn countenance. He wasn’t eager to give up Ginny, and a small part of him wondered if there was any way to enjoy the both witches - with everyone’s full and perfectly legal consent.

“Honestly, I have no idea how to bring it up with Hermione,” Draco mused. He knew how highly moral his beloved witch could be at times.

Harry had to agree with Malfoy. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Ginny’s wrath either. “We need to catch them red-handed.”

“I’ve got a funny thought,” Draco said.

“Something Slytherin is brewing in your mind again?”
“Wonder if there’s a chance our witches might like the whole arrangement in the end.” Draco said it slowly, watching for Harry’s reaction. “Ginny was hardly a prude during her time with Holyhead Harpies.”

“And Hermione?” Harry asked quickly. A small hope stirred inside him, even if the idea wasn’t quite decent-sounding.

“I guess we’ll have to try it and see what happens.” Draco was now standing next to Harry, his stare drilling into him.

“I think I got it.” Harry paused. “We’ll present them with the fact but leave the door open. See what their reactions are.”

Draco’s heart was pounding. He wasn’t even sure that it all would work out, but the fact that Potter was willing to give it a go - it was something.

“I’ve got one condition, Harry,” he stated firmly.

“What’s it?”

“Hermione is mine. She’s my wife, and I own her, no matter how much you shag her.”

Their eyes met.

”You’re right.“ Harry swallowed hard and continued in a clear voice. “Same about my wife. Ginny belongs to me. My other condition - no knocking up each other’s woman.”

“Agreed,” Draco nodded. “By the way, Valentine’s Day is less than two months away.”

“Let’s make it different this time,” smirked Harry.

They refilled their tumblers and raised them.

“Unsere lieben Frauen,” Draco grinned.

“Our beloved women,” replied Harry, and they clinked the glasses.

******
Draco Flooed into the entrance hall at home. He heard the children’s voices, and the high-pitched tone of Carrie, the nanny house-elf, in the dining room.

Hermione came out to greet him, as he waved his wand to send his bag upstairs.

“Had a drink with Harry at The Nines after the game,” he said casually, Scourgifying the soot off his clothes. Merlin, he had drunk more than usual, and had had to Floo instead of Apparating.

“Looks like a really stiff drink judging by your breath,” Hermione said, pecking him on his cheek. “C’mon, dinner is ready.”

“Not that hungry - had sandwiches there.” He looked at his wife. Her Muggle jeans accentuated her hips seductively. He put his hand on her waist, and squeezed her soft side.

“The kids are already at the table - let’s go, Draco.”

An insane desire rose in his abdomen. He shoved her against a wall, his hard body pressing against her soft bosom. She gasped from the surprise.

“Damn - have Carrie put on a Muggle video for the kids after dinner. That one with the stupid big dog.” His lips were on her forehead, then travelled down to her cheek.

“Oh – Scooby-Doo,” she said in a muffled voice and, in an instant, his tongue was in her mouth.

He was going to have his wife right now, possess her for the rest of the weekend. He wanted to do many dirty things to her sensuous body and to make her scream his name many times.

Then a thought of the Monday coming after it and her seeing Harry at work crossed his mind. A sharp needle of jealousy pierced his insides. No, he could do better - he could call Ginny about a lunch out.

They would be even - Harry Potter and him, Draco Malfoy.