Rating: Suddenly M, hehehe. Just to be safe.
A year later, Christmas Day …
His eyes watched her, a fire burning in them the likes of which she had never seen. But perhaps she had that same look in her eyes as well – the need to be together, to be one was so prevalent that she couldn't think properly.
Draco kissed her deeply, reacquainting his tongue with hers before licking a trail from her jawline to her neck – where he bit down hard, and Hermione's grip on his shoulder blades tightened. He attended to the bite mark with his tongue and Hermione forgot to tell him that his bite had hurt.
"Draco, we really …" Hermione trailed off as the mouth and tongue continued, wreaking havoc as it went.
Of course. Of course Draco had to use that tactic to make her lose all power of rational thought.
"Draco, I said …" she tried again, and then Draco brought his mouth back up to hers and kissed her. He kissed her so thoroughly and into such a state of delirium that she knew, had she been standing, she would have toppled over.
Thankfully they were in bed. The bed in which Hermione refused to get in until a few minutes ago …
"Draco, we really have to get ready, they're expecting us," Hermione cried at Draco was still half-naked on the sofa, watching some movie on the telly.
"Who are 'they'?" He asked.
"Um, Harry and Ron and the rest? Don't you remember? We're spending Christmas at Ron's this year. And then we agreed to babysit for Harry and Ginny while they go on holiday tomorrow onwards."
"Fuck," he said, and Hermione blushed at the sudden visual at the word exiting his mouth. Hmm.
He stood up and stretched leisurely, exposing his lean frame and strong back to Hermione – who had been eyeing him like a vulture ever since he got up.
Draco Malfoy was sexy. Very, very sexy.
She watched him, drinking in every detail and burning them into her memory. Somewhere during her Draco-watching, some barely audible sounds issued from the general direction of Draco's mouth.
"Huh what?" she shook her head and tried to fight the oncoming blush.
From the look that Draco was currently giving her, she knew she had failed.
"What are you thinking about there?" he asked, advancing towards her – slowly, quietly, and gracefully – like a feline … a panther.
"I'm thinking you should get ready and put some clothes on," she lied, looking away.
"No, you're thinking that I should get these off," he said before pulling on the drawstrings of his pajama bottoms.
"Draco, we don't have time for that," she said resolutely.
"Time for what, exactly?" he grinned like a shark at beach party, all the while walking towards her, oozing sexual appeal from head to toe – until she was backed against a wall.
Holy shit, that should have been criminal.
"Malfoy, really. We don't have time for this," she rolled her eyes, but she knew what she wanted.
"Why, we always have time for this," he said, words sounding like sin on his lips and he pressed his body against hers, "Granger."
And then he kissed her – luxuriously, lazily, lovingly with well-practiced finesse … and a flood of abashed red invaded her face at his ministrations.
"Isn't that right, darling?" he whispered into her ear, tongue flicking out to lick her earlobe.
A whimper from her was the only thing Draco needed before hoisting her up with his arms and dumping her onto their bed.
Within a few minutes, Draco had got her naked and laid out on the bed like a delicacy. At this point of time, Hermione couldn't give a damn. She was doing a terrific job at melting into the sheets, so where was the harm? They would only be a little late …
His hands were everyfuckingwhere and she couldn't resist doing the same. His hand hooked underneath one of her knees and he pushed himself against her – and she pressed back against his hardness.
She quickly scrambled forward and pulled his pajama bottoms down.
"Just do it already," she hissed.
"Eager or you just don't want to be late?" he sent her a smug grin.
Using her legs as leverage, she quickly flipped them both so that she was on top of him – a surprised look on his face.
"Both," she grinned and sunk herself into him as she kissed him, making them both groan in pleasure. His hands went to her hips in a bruising grip, steadying her.
"Don't worry, love," he grinned devilishly while panting, "This will be really quick -"
And then all of a sudden, he flipped her onto her back again with a surprised 'oomph' and a moan of appreciation from her – back to back – it was an odd sound – and he started thrusting in earnest.
"Draco!" she called out, eyes rolling to the back of her head in pleasure as one hand gripped the sheets at the foot of the bed and the other making half-crescent marks on Draco's back.
She babbled nonsense, chanted DracoDracoDracoDraco and arched her back as Draco moved so gracefully, so precisely and it had her keening and near the end so very quickly.
The grip he had on her thighs was so hard, she wouldn't be surprised if there bruises, and also wouldn't be surprised if there was blood on her nails after they finished but she really couldn't –
"OH!" she screamed, and the reply was a dark chuckle from Draco.
"Yes, that's it," he whispered into her ear, pushing her to the edge. "Come on."
Hermione's moans were getting louder and louder and –
"That's it," Draco cooed.
And with a loud, piercing cry of "DRACO!" she came and came and came, back arching, body trembling uncontrollably as Draco watched her and soothed her through the entire thing. Draco followed a mere second later, biting his lip as every muscle in his body went taut.
He collapsed on top of her and Hermione held him close through his release.
After a few minutes of basking in post-coital bliss, something jumped on top of the bed. It was Berlioz, fully grown now. Hermione brought a tired hand to stroke the fur on top of his head before he settled down next to them to sleep.
"We're already late," Hermione said a few moments later, her arms still wrapped around Draco tightly.
"Hmmm," came the grunt from Draco.
She began stroking his hair lightly, waiting.
Waiting for it – that sound.
After a couple more moments of endless stroking of his hair, there it was.
Purr. Purr. Purr.
And it wasn't coming from Berlioz.
Well, what do you know, the real Malfoy purrs, too.
They were late, and they had to think of an excuse that didn't sound too suspicious and they might get into trouble – but Hermione didn't care.
Draco, Berlioz and everything else around her at that moment were … just paw-sitively purr-fect.
Merry Christmas in advance!
Much love to you!