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Worshiping at the Alter of You

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“I’ve never known enough words to describe how beautiful you are.”  Draco Malfoy spoke, his tongue darting out from behind partially closed lips to moisten them.  They’d just returned from a ministry ball, a fundraiser for Hermione’s recently passed Lycanthropy bill.  She was the youngest department head that creature regulation had ever had, and Draco found it incredibly sexy when she blushed from the praise.

They’d been married nearly five years at this point, yet each day he found himself falling more and more in love with her.  It wasn’t just an idolic or erotic love. She was absolutely beautiful, of course, but it was her mind that he appreciated most.  It had taken exceptional courage on her part to even give him the chance to change…to be better. Spending the rest of his life worshipping at her feet would be the greatest honor of his life.  She’d changed him, in a fundamental way. Replacing blood purity with equality and hate with love…she was a goddess who had blessed him.

“You’ve already married me Draco.  There’s no need for flattery.” Her skin turned a delicious peaches and cream and he thought briefly how he wished he could taste her.

“Yes.  Have I sent Shacklebolt a thank you yet, for matching us up?”  The Marriage Law had caused quite a stir when it was first passed.  Draco had been too busy trying to fight horrific nightmares about the war by crawling into a bottle to even notice.  His mother had forced him to sober up when his third and final warning from the ministry had come; meet your match or go to Azkaban.  Already with her husband locked away, Narcissa was not about to let Draco follow his father there.

If he’d been a less broken man, he would have been overjoyed to be paired with her.  Attractive, witty, powerful, intelligent…there was no ends to the list of things that enticed Draco about the golden girl.  But there was one thing that kept them apart. The faded ink on his arm was now nothing but an ugly reminder of his past. It had been a focal point in their early intimacy .  “It doesn’t matter.”   She would whisper in his ear.  “It should.”   He always responded.

“You always do.  On every anniversary.  And birthday. And days that end in y.”  Her laugh filled their bedroom with warmth as it echoed against the tall ceilings and four poster bed.

“Well considering it is Valentine’s Day tomorrow, I suppose I should write him another.”  She rolled her delicious, honey brown eyes at him and stepped out of the dress robes she had worn.  As much as he had enjoyed looking at her while she was wearing the obnoxiously Gryffindor red dress, the image of it pooled around her feet was much more enticing.

“And what grand plans do you have for Valentine’s Day this year love?”  Hermione’s voice was low and sultry as she kept eye contact with him. In nothing but white cotton knickers and a bra, she walked slowly towards her husband.

“The same plan as always.”  He teased, bringing himself to close the gap between them, hovering his lips just above hers.  It didn’t escape his notice the small gasp that pushed from her lips as he placed his cold hands on her back.

“And what plan is that?”  Her voice was breathy and her eyes hooded as she watched him.  He could look at her like this for his entire life and never grow bored.

“To worship you like the goddess you are.”


Bribing people was surprisingly easy when you had more galleons than the government.  Hermione’s boss, an older curmudgeonly man with a thick mustache and considerable hearing loss, loved the Wimbourne Wasps.  Two tickets for him and his wife to the upcoming game against the Chudley Cannons was all it took to get the entire Creature Regulation, Magical Sports and Games, and Magical Transportation a half day on February 14 th .  Draco was lauded as a hero and Ron Weasley (who he had a tumultuous and tentative friendship with due to his marriage to Hermione) came to thank him personally.

Dinner was simple.  Hermione loved small romantic gestures much more than grand overtures – which Draco had learned over time through a series of trial and error.  Learning to cook the muggle way had been a bonding activity the two had shared early on in their relationship, and now Draco was proud to say that he could sort of cook.

The minute Hermione arrived home to their estate, only slightly too-done fish and chips sat on their finest china.  She paused at the door, laying down her brown leather messenger bag and hanging her cloak. For a moment, Draco worried that his endeavor to please his wife had been quixotic, but then her face lit up.

She approached him slowly, like a lioness approaching her prey.  Placing a kiss against his cheek, Hermione sat down in the place set for her and began to eat.  He had to force his brain to stop thinking of his plans for later and focus on eating dinner first.  If things went according to plan, he would need the energy.

“Its perfect Draco.  Everything is perfect.”  Hermione praised, raising one of the slightly greasy chips to her mouth and taking a bite.  The crunch that followed was proof that he had in fact overcooked the food, but she was so wonderful that she smiled even brighter and set her sights on another.  She followed the greasy chip with a sip of red wine. As she was about to bring the glass to her lips she paused, “Is this the wine from our wedding?” It was a rhetorical question really.  Their wedding wine had contained a distinct scent of strawberry...Draco always said that Hermione smelled like the sweet fruit. Draco swallowed the growl that formed in his throat in response to the appreciative and aroused look Hermione gave him and simply nodded his head.  Dinner...he had to get through dinner.

The small talk was casual, filled with Hermione relaying to him the newest ministry gossip about how a mysterious benefactor had gotten everyone an early release.  It was how they communicated. Draco would do something outrageous and Hermione would pointedly discuss it without ever pointing the finger at him. 

“Regardless of who this generous and likely handsome hero is, I am glad you’re home early.  I’ve got a rather…active evening planned for us.” The look he always got in his steely grey eyes when he talked like that made Hermione gulp, drawing in a hasty breath.

“I find I’ve lost my appetite all of a sudden.  Maybe we could get…desert earlier than planned?”  Their slightly burnt dinner forgotten, the two shot off towards the bedroom giggling like giddy newlyweds.  It had taken a little while to earn the type of trust from Hermione that she required for intimacy. Now as she stood in front of him in haunting candlelight, nothing between his hands and her skin except for a thin silk blouse, he thanked Merlin again for giving him the second chance he did not deserve.

“You’re radiant.”  Draco whispered, his lips grazing against her neck as he did so.  The delicious shiver that ran down her spine sent his blood racing.  Her curly hair was pulled lazily back by a clip, and he grabbed it, releasing her curls from their prison.  The very thing he’d teased her about mercilessly in school was now his favorite thing about her physically. There was nothing more sexy than burying his hands in her hair while they fucked.

“Draco.  I love you, but I need less talking tonight.  If you need to occupy your tongue, I can think of a better use for it.”  Hermione’s lips parted in a smirk, and Draco kissed her immediately. Bossy, even in the bedroom.  But he loved it. Grabbing his wand, he went to cast a contraception charm on himself, but her hand caught him.

“Don’t.  Urm that is to say...I think I’m ready for us to start trying.  For a baby. I know you’ve wanted a family since we married and you’ve been so patient with me, but I think I’m ready now.”  Hermione’s cheeks burned with a red hue as she connected her embarrassed eyes with Draco’s.

“Really?  You’re serious?!”  Draco’s giddy smile spread as he catapulted himself towards his wife, connecting their lips perhaps a bit too hard.  Hermione grunted from the impact and they both pulled away, laughing.

“Well get on with it then.”  She cheekily teased, and Draco didn’t need to be told twice.

His kisses peppered her lips, burning her with desire as he pulled away too soon only to return a breath later.  Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pulled herself flush to his body, feeling his growing erection straining against his fancy dragon-hide trousers.  She had never been a fan of the material (and had forced him to start purchasing faux alternatives when they’d married) but damn if they didn’t make his arse look good.  Her long, thin fingers pulled at where his shirt was tucked into his trousers, desperate to feel his chest against hers. He was quick to oblige.

She ran her tongue across his lips, moaning against him as she asked for him to let her in.  When his lips did part, she deepened their kiss, moving her hands up his back until the tips of her fingers were grazing his long blonde hair.

Draco picked her up then, cupping her arse with his hands.  The skirt that she was wearing protested against the strain, so he ripped the seam.

“Hey!  I liked that skirt!”  Hermione teased, glaring at her husband, although there was more desire in her gaze than anger.

“You’re a witch.  You can fix it whenever I allow you out of this bed.”  As he spoke, he dropped Hermione on her back on their large bed.  The violet duvet contrasted beautifully against her pale skin, and Draco took in the sight.  Hermione, with her hair splayed out, her lips full from their snogging, and her skirt ripped nearly to her knickers, was the best thing he’d ever seen.

This time, his kisses began at her ankles, removing the ugly yet comfortable shoes she preferred to wear to work.  Tossing them somewhere over his shoulder, Draco knew wherever they ended up, they would be found in the morning.

His lips pressed gently against her legs, working his way up until he was sucking and biting at the sensitive skin on her inner thigh.  Hermione squirmed underneath him, breathing out little gasps and saying his name like a prayer. His cock throbbed as she called for him; begging and pleading for his tongue, his hands…him.

Removing the rest of her skirt was easy, now that it was ripped along the side seam.  With a little wriggle of Hermione’s hips and some gentle tugs from Draco, she was in just her knickers.  Hermione took the skirt removal as an opportunity to also do away with her blouse, tossed (along with the shoes) somewhere else to be discovered later.

With the skirt gone, he could now see that she was wearing his favorite pair of emerald green silk knickers.  A distinctive dark spot formed as he ran his fingers along her entrance. “So wet already love.” He drawled, his voice low and husky with desire.  His tongue flicked out against the silky fabric, earning a whimper from his wife.

Long, thin fingers moved from where his love bite was starting to form on her thigh up to her lips, pulling the fabric aside and licking her softly.  She tasted like heaven, and just as soon as his tongue left her clit, he replaced it with his finger, rubbing his thumb against the little ball of nerves.

Over the course of their marriage, Draco Malfoy had made it his business to memorize each and every inch of his wife.  From the small scar on her knee from a playground accident when she was 6 to the way she burned when he put just the right amount of pressure on her sweet cunt.

“Please…Draco…Fuck me.”  Hermione bit out between gasps and moans.

Impatient as always, his Gryffindor.  Draco reveled in the neediness of her touch, how her fingers locked into his hair, pulling gently.  He couldn’t hold himself back anymore, quickly standing and shucking his trousers. His already erect cock twitching against his pants as he rid himself of them too.  Soon, he was naked as well, and staring with hungry eyes at the absolute goddess he had the privilege of marrying.

It was quite exotic, how Hermione mewled and ground under his touch.  Draco began at her calf, kissing her pale skin tenderly. Slowly, his kisses worked their way back up to her thighs, where his tongue grazed her dripping wetness once more.  Her whole body convulsed under the anticipation of the sensation and her back arched against the bed. Skipping the rest of his tour of her skin, he lined himself up to her slit and set himself so he could look in her eyes.

“Ready my love?”  His husky voice groaned out, his cock twitching from want as he waited patiently for this extra moment of teasing.

“Fuck me.”  It was an instruction, quite forcefully given, and Draco was more than willing to oblige her request.

His cock slid into her slowly, as he allowed the pressure of filling her to satisfy him.  “Fuck you feel good.” Released unplanned from his lips. The sound was tapered off at the end as she connected their lips.  Grinding her hips agaisnt his, an animalistic quality took over their sex. As she ground her hips and he thrusted into her, a natural call and response formed...a brutal rhythm of desperate need and fulfillment.

When he felt his own orgasm growing, he moved his hand towards her clit.  After all his years of marriage to Hermione Granger, there was one thing he’d become an expert in, and it was how to get his wife off.  The added stimulation of his fingers with his cock escalated the tide that was overtaking her. Now if there was one thing that Hermione Granger had learned in all her years of marriage to Draco Malfoy, it was that nothing got him harder than screaming his name.

“Draco...ugh...fuck...I’m so close.”  Every breath she took, every syllable she spoke felt like an addition to the eroticism of this moment.  There were no more words passed between the two as they ground and kissed and dragged and scraped. As Draco felt his orgasm come, he pulled her as close as he could, their bodies melding together as they both came undone.  Despite his own orgasm, he knew that Hermione hadn’t come yet, and so as he rode out his high, he continued his stimulation of her clit, hoping to overwhelm her with sensation.

Moving himself into a more comfortable position, his teeth found her nipple and began to suck and bite lightly until the tell tale moans of his wife’s orgasm began to fill his ears.  They collapsed into each other, limbs intertwined so much that for a moment it seemed that there was no difference between the two; one body with no end and no beginning.

Draco, after a few moments to catch his breath and say his prayers that he gets the privilege to fuck Hermione Granger, removed himself from between her legs and panted lightly as he moved to lay down next to her in their bed.

“How the fuck did I get so lucky?”  He asked her seriously, wiping a sweaty curl from her forehead.

“Blessed by a goddess I suppose.”  Hermione teased, kissing him lazily.  “Happy Valentine’s Day love.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”