#mind the clutter she loves playing on my legs with her favorite ribbon

[gogglebeast]

In other news Artemis had to go to the emergency vet a few days ago, after being stung by a bark scorpion and vomiting 15 times- thankfully she's feeling way better now!

[noncanonlove]

Happy Birthday, Draco Malfoy

The cake had been cut, the presents opened, and now Draco was alone again. 

In theory it'd been the perfect 40th birthday. 

 The house elves had outdone themselves this year with the cake and he'd been surrounded by all of his friends and chosen family for an amazing meal. The gifts had all been lovely and thoughtful. They'd even all evaporated by his preferred hour of nine o'clock. 

There had only been one thing missing. 

Well, actually, one person.

He hadn’t seen her since he’d asked her to marry him three weeks prior. She asked for time to think about it and while that’d stung, he’d tried to be understanding and had given her space. He knew she wouldn’t leave him waiting forever. Had faith that whatever she was doing, it was of the utmost importance. It wasn’t within her character for it to be otherwise.

The stars twinkled overhead as he sat,enjoying the splendor of the evening with a glass of aged Firewhiskey.

The tumbler was half empty when he felt a presence behind him. He didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. Hermione settled in the seat next to him and before he could utter a single syllable, she’d plonked a small box neatly wrapped in light gray paper and tied together with a dark gray bow.

His eyes moved from her to the box and back. He took a moment to study her. She was wearing his favorite green off the shoulder gown, the pearl earrings and necklace set he’d given her, and a pair of tall black high heels that brought to mind many nights of passion. She was sat straight up with a regal posture that would have made his late mother proud. The only thing that gave her away were the fingers that were pleating her skirting despite how she tried to hide it with her other hand.

A mix of emotions battled for dominance. He wanted to demand to know where she’d been, what she’d been doing, and did she know how destroyed he’d felt the past three weeks? Again, his knowledge of her overcame that aspect by the skin of its teeth. So instead of saying anything, he pulled apart the ribbon as well as the lid.

Inside, on a bed of velvet was a Golden Snitch. His eyebrows furrowed. He had dozens of snitches, even now that he rarely played anymore. He had every single Snitch from every match he’d won except for one. The only Snitch he did not have was the one he’d given to her. She’d lost a wager with him over the outcome and it’d resulted in their first date. When he’d dropped her off on her doorstep with a kiss to the hand, he’s slipped it into her palm “for safekeeping.”

He opened his mouth to ask when a thought interrupted him. Snitches have flesh memory. His teeth clicked when he shut his mouth and he delicately plucked it from the box with his left hand and cradled it in his palm.

In the span of a breath it floated off of his palm opened up to reveal a neatly folded piece of parchment. With trembling fingers and a shaky breath he pulled it free and unfolded it.

I love you. Yes. Was written in her neatest script. He looked over to meet her gaze and found her biting at the corner of her bottom lip. His fingers itched to pluck it free.

“You mean it?”

“Only if the offer still stands.”

“Come here.”

She shot to her feet, only to stumble in the tall footwear. He managed, just barely, to maneuver her into his lap before she hit the ground. 

She brushed her hair back from her flushed face. “Happy birthday.”

He couldn’t stop his chortle. “Thank you. Despite it being my birthday, I think I have something to give to you.” 

He reached inside the tiny pocket of his waistcoat and produced the platinum and ruby engagement ring he’d used when he’d proposed. It was an heirloom, of course, and one of the singular red pieces in the entire collection.

She placed her hand in his and he slid the ring home before squashing her against his chest, burying a hand in her ridiculous curls, and pulling her down for a fierce kiss.

When they finally parted and he’d sucked in a lungful of fresh air, he met her eyes again. “Where did you go?” he whispered.

Now that he had the most life-altering question in his life answered, he had to know what was so important that she would leave him hanging for three bloody weeks.

“Australia,” she replied, just as quietly.

He froze. That meant... “You saw your parents?”

She hadn’t spoken nor seen her parents in twenty years. They’d had many a conversation over it around the anniversary of the falling out. He’d watched her drink herself silly on more than one occasion over it.

“Yes.” The wind ruffled their hair as she assembled her thoughts and clutched his waistcoat with both hands. “I showed up on their doorstep and said that it was high time that we sorted everything out between us. As you know, they wouldn’t even speak to me after they’d gotten their memories back. Had me removed from their property.”

The fingers he’d curled in her hair slid down to run up and down the length of her spine over and over. He’d sit here all night with her if he had to.

She let out a quiet breath before she picked her tale back up. “At first they shut the door on me, but I remained there for two days without moving. Then on the third my mother came out in tears and demanded to know why I’d done what I had. Then for the rest of the time I was there I explained why I’d done it and spared no detail.” Hermione tucked her head against his neck and breathed until the shakiness had steadied out.

“How’d they take it?”

“Poorly. It took them a long times to come to term with the fact that I fought in a war that they’d never have been able to protect me from. It was the first time in my life I’d seen my father cry. It’s something they’re still struggling with but they’re slowly working on it. When I left, they made me promise to call them every week. They’re thinking about coming back to London now.”

“Why did you decide now to go?”

“Because, like I told them, I could not begin my life afresh with the clutter and the shadow of the past hanging over me. My house had to be in order before I joined it with yours.”

He froze. “What did they say?”

He sat back up and looked him in the eye again. “They were angry at first but once that wore off it opened up an entirely new set of questions and conversations. They want to meet you.”

He was forty years old today, he refused to be afraid of a pair of Muggles. “They don’t own one of those rifle things do they?”

“Of course not! I could never imagine my father with a gun even if you implanted the image straight into my brain.” She snorted and then again, but the second time with laughter.

She’d went there to resolve her past. She’d did it for herself, but she’d also done it to start fresh with him. He couldn’t imagine the anguish she’d suffered with the act. The reason of why she’d done it quenched the secret anger and agony that had built up while she’d been away.

He pulled her into another kiss. Everything was going to be fine. She’d conquered her boggart and now she could move forward in life with him. She stroked a line down the buttons of his shirt and he felt the cool brush of her magic as it undid each one.

“Let’s go inside,” she muttered against his mouth.

They made it to the living room before she divested him of both the shirt and the waistcoat before pushing him onto the sofa.

She climbed back in his lap and trailed open mouthed kisses down his throat. Her lips crossed his clavicle and trailed down his chest, pausing to flick her tongue each nipple and eliciting a hiss from him. She explored his abdomen and belly button with that wicked tongue while her fingers unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers.

His mumbles of how she didn’t have to went ignored as she pulled them off of him entirely, along with his socks. He almost never wore underwear, so that was one layer skipped.

She stared at him from her position between his knees as she lubricated her palm and fingers with her tongue. He hissed when she wrapped it around his stiff cock and began slowly to pump up and down. He swallowed hard when she licked her lips and sucked the head into her mouth.

She was warm and wet and perfect as ever as she bobbed her head up and down, suckling him as her hand worked what wouldn’t fit in her mouth. The ends of her curls tickled his thighs as the fingertips of her other hand caressed his bollocks. He threaded his fingers through her hair as she worked him, entranced at the sight.

He’d wanked so much in the past three weeks but now after having his cock in her mouth for less than five minutes he was already on the brink. He tightened his fingers in her hair and gently pulled her off of him before he could embarrass himself. He wasn’t ready to be finished yet.

He leaned forward, reaching behind her and unzipped her dress the entire way before pulling her to her feet. He froze for a moment and drank her in. The dress and heels were all she’d been wearing and now only the heels remained.

He pulled her down onto the couch and maneuvered between her legs. Two fingers slid between her folds and he delighted in finding ample slickness. He began to rub tight circles on her clit as his mouth enjoyed the bounty of her breasts. Her thighs tightened against his as she squirmed and whimpered.

“Please.”

That was all she ever had to say. He lined himself up and slid the tip along her slit before slowly sliding home with one smooth thrust. He grasped one of her hands, pulling it above her head as their fingers laced together. Her other arm pulled him down flush against her as he set his pace. The scent of her was strong in the curve of her neck and shoulder where he worshiped with his mouth. 

“Touch yourself,” he begged. 

When her hand snaked between them to work her clit, his hips picked up the pace, snapping against her with each thrust. His heart slammed against his ribs.

Bum-bump bum-bump bum-bump, love-you love-you love-you.

It wasn’t he heard her breathy cries that she loved him too did he realize that he was mumbling it against her skin over and over and over.

Her walls fluttered around him before she came apart with a shriek, squeezing his fingers and leaving indents of her nails in the back of his hand as she trembled beneath him. Moments later he followed her with a hoarse cry against her skin as he came undone.

Afterwards, when cohesive thought was a thing again, he maneuvered them to where she was tucked between him and the back of the couch, wrapped up in him.

She watched him with hazy brown eyes. “Did you have a good birthday?”

He kissed her fingertips, then her ring finger, then stole one straight from her lips. “It was the best.”

“Love you.” “And I love you. Always.”