Chapter Text
"Oh God, yes!"
She was afraid she might kill him.
Hermione was pressing Draco’s head against herself so tightly, she’d lost all feeling in her fingers. But she needed more—needed him to finally slide his tongue inside her—so she yanked at his hair without mercy.
"Quiet now," he murmured, almost lazily, his lips wrapped around her swollen clit. "You don’t want the whole Ministry to hear, do you?"
"I’m going to die," she groaned, tipping her head back against the chair.
Thank Merlin they’d drawn the curtains over the portraits of the other ministers. Otherwise, Granger wouldn’t have dared look them in the eye again. Whatever the rumours said about those depraved old wizards, she could clearly hold her own.
Draco flicked her clit with his tongue, and she was certain she saw fucking stars.
"I’m dripping… What are you trying to do to me…"
She couldn’t get enough air. She regretted lining the office with towering bookcases—it was hot as hell in here.
"I’m keeping you on edge."
She could feel his smile in the way his lips moved against her. Granger had begun to tremble all over.
"I’ll take your surname, just—please, stop," she begged, her voice cracking, on the verge of tears.
She’d been planning to change it anyway—it had been on her mind for some time, as living with different surnames had gradually become more of a nuisance. She’d meant to tell him on his birthday. But Draco and patience lived on opposite ends of the earth and had never once crossed paths.
"Stop?"
Malfoy looked up at her with a look of pure, wide-eyed innocence. God, his mouth… Did he have the faintest idea how he looked right now? And if he got the collar of that shirt wet...
"No, no, no…"
Draco ducked back under her skirt, and this time, he let her properly fuck his mouth.
The surge of sensation made her head spin, but Hermione clung to what little self-control she had left, doing everything she could not to cry out. She almost did, though, when someone knocked on the door.
"Minister Granger," came her secretary’s voice. "You have a visitor."
Oh, she had a visitor all right — one handling a very, very urgent matter.
Hermione bit down on her lip and gripped the armrests of her chair.
"Tell them I’m not available right now!" she called, desperately hoping she didn’t sound too high-pitched or strained.
Because Draco had her pulled tighter than a bowstring.
"It’s your daughter. She says you’ve got a meeting with the head of the art school."
Bloody hell. Fuck.
"Two minutes!"
A cold sweat broke out along her spine as the realisation hit—their daughter was standing just outside the door. The shame was suffocating. They were, without doubt, the worst—and somehow still the happiest—parents in the world.
"Draco, stop," she whispered.
He did straighten up abruptly but in the very next moment he slipped two fingers inside her and silenced her with a kiss.
A short, devastating orgasm tore through her, and thank Merlin Malfoy had the good sense to stifle her cries.
"I’ll go to her," he said. "You rest."
"But it’s my turn today…"
Her gaze was still struggling to focus on Draco.
"My interview with the sous-chef’s been pushed back anyway. I’ve got a couple of hours to kill."
Hermione’s mind was currently so far removed from the Minister for Magic’s office that the first thing she thought of after he spoke was their date at his restaurant the previous week—when he’d closed the kitchen and made her tiramisu. The place had looked like it had been hit by a fully grown troll afterwards.
"Won’t she be upset?"
"Emma? Of course not," Draco said, reassuringly. "I’ll buy her an ice cream and she’ll forget both our names."
Their daughter had an outrageous sweet tooth—taking after her father.
"You’re right," Granger smiled at him.
Malfoy tidied himself up as best he could with a flick of magic, then paused by the door.
"You haven’t…?" he asked, hesitating as he licked his slightly swollen lips.
"Not yet."
They’d been trying for a second child for a few months now, and while Hermione had no doubt it would happen eventually, she didn’t like how anxious Draco seemed about it.
"You do know that’s not how babies are made, don’t you?" she teased, meaning his spontaneous visit.
"I beg to differ," Draco said, leaning against the doorframe. "Orgasms increase the chances of conception."
"I can’t get pregnant from your tongue," Hermione said, already starting to laugh.
"Is that a hint for me to stay?"
Despite the wave of goosebumps prickling up her legs, Granger shook her head at once.
"Don’t keep Emma waiting."
"Theo and Blaise offered to look after her tonight."
Of course they did.
"Did they really? Was it their idea?"
"Absolutely. They said—and I quote—‘Leave your daughter with us and go shag your wife senseless in a hotel all night.’"
"You’re insufferable," Granger sighed, clicking her tongue.
"Not true. I was insufferable seven years ago, just before the divorce. Now we’re both mad."
Draco had no idea how many times she’d booked sessions with Charlotte during their little rough patches. Malfoy liked to believe they’d worked everything out themselves, and Hermione had no desire to rob him of that illusion.
In the end, she’d realised that was really what marriage was about — making your partner happy. Draco was rather brilliant at it too, sometimes several times a day…
"Shall I let her in?"
Hermione quickly straightened her skirt and nodded.
"Where’s our little champion, then?"
Malfoy stepped out, only to return a second later with Emma perched on his shoulders.
"Mummy!" she squealed, swinging about and kicking Draco without the slightest mercy.
She was five now, so really, it was his own fault for still letting her ride around on him like that.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Hermione said to her daughter.
"That’s all right. But where’s your shirt?"
Hermione looked down — and sure enough, she was still in just her bra.
Malfoy let out a loud laugh.
"You could’ve told me!" she snapped, snatching her crumpled blouse from the floor.
"And miss that? Not a chance."
"I’m going to kill you," Hermione muttered.
"Love you too," Draco replied.
"And I love you!" Emma chimed in cheerfully—still blissfully unaware she lived with a pair of complete lunatics.