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It wasn’t unfair to say that Draco had grown up in a traditional household, raised to be proud of his pureblood lineage and all that would come along with it.
A traditional marriage contract included benefits for both families along with the agreement that the couple would produce at least one heir.
In a rather uncomfortable conversation with his father at the ripe age of twelve about the birds and bees, Draco learned that he would be expected to perform his husbandly duty until his wife was pregnant, then he wouldn’t need to touch her at all.
If he was lucky then he would love his wife, but if the chance came that he didn’t, at least he wouldn’t have to touch her after she bore him an heir.
He’d been rather curious about these traditions, spending one rainy summer day rummaging through the Malfoy Library and picking through different texts about pureblood marriage, stumbling upon one specifically about pregnancy.
Once a woman was pregnant, she was extremely fragile, delicate in a way that meant she needed plenty of rest and relaxation. Instructions included staying out of the sun, avoiding any sort of tasks that came with a heavy mental or physical load, and not engaging in any marital activities with her husband. Apparently, it would put the baby at risk.
Any husband who could not hold back such desires could take a potion to curb his urges or seek a mistress.
There was a sanctity of pregnancy. A merging of bloodlines and pride in creation that was too pure to be sullied by any sort of sexual nature. It was wrong, unnatural to find such a primal urge for one's wife in such a state.
These are the words that loop through his mind, quickly building a pit of shame in his stomach when the excitement of his wife’s pregnancy suddenly turns to something else as her belly starts to grow.
A small little swell that sends an unnatural surge of heat through him at the idea of her growing rounder, that any person that laid eyes on her would know that she was taken, and taken by him specifically.
She was growing life. His heir. Their child.
Hermione Granger had always been a siren song to him, he’d never once stood a chance at resisting her, so it shouldn’t have been a mystery to him why his desire didn’t curb at seeing her pregnant state increase.
What he hadn’t expected was for his desire to loom larger the more she showed.
Unnatural.
This shame is only put to a halt due to the fact that Hermione’s desire for him hadn’t decreased at all. While most of the side effects of her pregnancy hadn’t been necessarily positive (back pain, aching feet and joints, easy to tears, intense cravings) an increase of libido he considered a complete positive.
She emerges from the bath as he lies in bed, reading glasses on as he skims across the latest edition of his favorite potioneering series.
“I feel like I’m already huge,” She complains, pushing out her bottom lip in a pout as she eyes her profile in the mirror. “I’m not even in the second trimester yet.”
“That is the dilemma of twins, darling.” There’s an odd squirm in him as he admires her figure, which is strange, because he’d never felt such a way for looking at her before.
The Malfoy line had secured the familial magic to produce a single male heir for centuries, and she’d brought it all tumbling down.
Hermione drops the towel, and all thoughts leave him. It could be quite inconvenient at times, the way she could clear his mind of everything.
She’s frowning, hands circling her bump, fingers pressing into the taut skin.
“Come here.”
And she does, his darling witch turning to crawl over the bed to him, stopping right in front of where he sits.
“So pretty,” He coos, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Always so pretty for me, especially when you’re growing not one, but two little lives.”
Hermione rolls her eyes fondly, leaning into his touch, her gaze darting down to watch his cock harden in his joggers. Naughty girl indeed.
It’s so easy to pull her into his lap, lips crashing onto hers as his hands fondle her breasts, squeezing the soft and heavy weight of them, relishing in the way she squirms as he thumbs over her nipple. She rocks herself over his thigh, wetness quickly seeping through the fabric of his pants.
“Draco—“ She huffs, lashing fluttering so prettily as his lips wrap around a nipple. “Oh please—“
“Ah ah,” He tuts, “You know what I want, you have to give me one before you can have my cock.”
A little whine leaves her throat, but the fresh wave of arousal soaking the leg of his joggers gives her away. It doesn’t take her long to tumble over the edge at all, her clit throbbing against his thigh, crying out his name as her hips stutter.
Draco doesn’t bother giving her time to think, easily sliding his erection from his trousers and giving her a little lift. She’s soaked, the walls of her cunt still pulsing as she slides down on top of him, a shriek leaving her lips as his fingers circle her clit without mercy.
She’s a vision, she always is. Curls bouncing as she rides him, chest heaving, cheeks flushed and pretty lips parted as she moans for him.
His hand wanders, palm spreading over the swell of her belly.
He’d done this, filled her up over and over until she’d swelled up for him. He’d always been a possessive bastard, an only child who’d never had to share his toys, taking extra effort to carve his name into anything he could manage. Along his broomstick, beneath any of his toys, on his bedpost—
Hermione Granger-Malfoy, his name carved with hers. Her cunt full of his seed, belly growing with his children.
Heat flashes over him dangerously, pleasure pricking at the base of his spine. He needed to get her to finish quickly before he got carried away.
“One more,” He soothes, lips pressing eagerly over her breasts, suckling bruises along her skin. “Can you give me one more, my pretty wife?”
His grip tightens on her hip as her cunt begins to pulse around him, the swell of her pressing against his abdomen as he pulls her against him.
Everything in him breaks, spilling inside her right as she tightens around him, finishing with him as she pulses and flutters.
It's not until after, when they lay skin to skin that he realizes what he’s done.
Disgust quickly curls through him, removing his hand from where he draws circles across her abdomen.
What was wrong with him?
He shouldn’t— there shouldn’t—
Hermione doesn’t seem to notice his infatuation, hadn’t caught on to whatever unnatural urge he’d had, her eyelids drooping as she lounges on his chest.
Draco’s hands find her curls instead, caressing until she finally falls asleep.
Surely it was all just new, she’d just started to show, even earlier than they’d expected. It would all fade as it went along certainly.
It doesn’t fade.
No. It gets worse.
The heat he feels only continues to consume him the farther her pregnancy goes on, a sick little perversion that threatens to swallow him whole.
Draco tries whatever he can to shove it down, which mostly includes keeping his hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep his hands from wandering. He tries to hide behind distance, keeping anything from getting too intimate to stop the risk of exposing Hermione to whatever this issue was bouncing around his head.
He indulges where he can, massaging away aching muscles, lingering kisses goodbye, holding her close after she’d fallen asleep to ease the little cracks he feels inside that she normally patched up.
Hermione seemed determined to push him to his very limits, taking any opportunity to press close against him and caving into her pregnancy hormones. He caves, because he’s weak, unable to resist the temptation of her flesh.
A conversation should be had, he should tell her, spill his rotted insides out and see if she would still have him. She knew the worst parts of him, yet she loved him anyway— perhaps she could still love him through this.
But he was a coward to his finest fault, instead setting her on her hands and knees as he took her from behind, hands gripping tight at her hips. Draco refused to let whatever personal demon he seemed to be fighting win.
He could still have this, he could still have her.
Everything would go back to normal once the children were born.
“Please—” She whispers breathlessly beneath him, her head dropping down to her forearms as she arches her back.
His hand slips between her thighs, ghosting beneath her bump to circle around her clit, eyes closing as she cries out for him.
“That’s it love, just like that—” Perfect, perfect, she was so perfect.
Hermione trembles, and he can practically feel her tensing each muscle in her body. Draco slows the snap of his hips, concentration zoning in at her rigid posture. It had been a long, long time since she’d resisted an orgasm from him, back before trust had been built, before he’d sent each wall of her defense crashing down.
Draco adjusts the angle, pistoning his hips down into a particular spot he knew she quite liked.
A gasp escapes her lips as she forces her face down into the sheets, muffling the sound, but her posture stays solid, refusing to rock back into him.
Oh, that would not do. In any other circumstance he would wrap his fingers around those pretty curls and tug her back, she wasn’t allowed to hide from them. It was a rule they’d made what seemed so long ago.
Draco hesitates, unsure if he’ll be able to hold himself back, instead increasing his pace over her clit and watching her shake.
“You know better than that,” He grits out, teeth clenched. “Don’t resist it, follow it— there we go, just like that, darling.”
Her body gives in, a shudder wracking through her as climax overtakes her body, her head staying buried in the duvet. The pulse of her cunt sends him over into his own orgasm, leaning down to bite at her shoulder for being a brat.
Hermione gives a weak whimper, each pulse of her cunt milking his cock as he spills inside her.
Draco pulls her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, holding her close and letting his nose dip into her curls. He absentmindedly traces over the bite mark left on her shoulder, the tip of his finger dipping into the indentations of his teeth along her flesh.
Slowly, the tension bleeds from her, relaxing back against him. Her breathing evens, chest rising and falling beneath his grasp. Asleep.
It’s a blessing and a curse.
He supposed they could talk about it tomorrow.
The tension between them has peaked.
She was stiff, practically oozing stress as she refused to even look him in the eye.
Dread filled him cold and heavy, weighing him down as he watched her helplessly. She had to know, had to have caught on and been disgusted by it.
Hermione stood with her back to him, removing the outer layer of her robes and tossing them in the hamper before she pauses, fingers flexing at her side before grabbing a set of pajamas and turning to the master bath.
“What are you doing?” The words are out of his mouth before he can even rethink them, watching her hand freeze on the handle of the door.
It all breaks at once, Hermione spins on her heels, expression furious as she throws the clothing discarded onto the ground.
“Changing where you can’t see me,” She hisses, and his eyes squeeze shut on instinct. “Because apparently you can’t stand the sight of me.”
Now that makes his eyes snap right back open, confusion evident on his face.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” He should have known better than to push her, because the next piece of clothing she throws is aimed right at his head.
“Don’t play stupid! Since I’ve ballooned like a fucking whale you won’t even look at me, or touch me— you’re clearly disgusted by me and you don’t want to say anything.” Tears well through her fury, magic crackling through the tips of her curls, bottom lip trembling to reveal the hurt beneath it all.
Oh his darling witch, he’d hurt her. He loathed causing her any sort of pain, emotion swelling within him as he stood from the bed.
“Love, I’m not—”
“Don’t lie to me!” She’s one step away from hexing him and he knows it, he’d pushed her too far.
Draco could tell by the height of her hair and the way she held her posture so rigid it looked like she could snap in half that she was spiraling. He’d let it get to this, hadn’t taken the time to communicate with her like a fucking adult out of fear of her disgust.
He had to fix it.
“Hermione.” He says her name with finality, a rumble on each syllable as he shifts his expression to stern. “Come here.”
His tone has an immediate effect on her, that familiar authority he only used in the comfort of their own home, where she put her complete trust and vulnerability in him. Her arm drops, blinking rapidly as she stares at him.
He can tell she wants to obey, but hesitates, gnawing at her bottom lip with worry.
“I know I’ve been quite terrible to you, and I’m so sorry,” He goes to her instead, hands outstretched in surrender. “I was hiding in my own shame and let you suffer the consequences of it.”
“Shame?” Her brows furrow, tilting her chin to give him a hard look.
“I’m—” Draco pauses, taking a breath, hoping for any kind of strength for what he’s about to admit. “I’m quite the opposite of disgusted with you, it’s an infatuation that I thought I could hide, it’s unnatural and I should have just communicated that with you in the first place.”
Confusion is evident across her features, shoulders lowering from his confession.
“Every time I look at you like this I– I—” He swallows, closing his eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about how I’ve done this to you, that I filled you over and over until you swelled with my seed. My heirs, breaking every pureblood standard and giving me twins for fuck sake— the things I want to do to you like this are disgusting—”
A whimper breaks him from his thoughts, eyes snapping open to find her cheeks flushed, thighs pressing together as her hands clasp to her chest.
Oh.
Draco raises a brow, trying to quell the thrill that rolls through him that she might share such a feeling, such a fantasy with him.
“Do you have something to share?” He’s carefully calm as he looks at her, watching with delight as she squirms beneath his gaze.
“What kind of things?” She asks, oh so timid suddenly.
He can’t help the grin that pulls at his lips. There was his sweet and obedient little witch, the wife who loved nothing more than to let him unravel her until she was an utter mess.
“They’re quite shameful thoughts,” He admits, “What I think whenever I look at you, I’m not sure you’d truly want to hear them. You might find it terrifying.”
Draco looks at her, right into the pretty mahogany of her eyes, open in his expression as he raises his brows in a question. It’s permission, to see if she denies him or truly wants to move forward.
Her hands clasp below her belly, and he nearly groans at how big she’s gotten in just the past two months. Perhaps it’s that she finally sees how he stares at her when she’s not looking, finally seeing the fire, and he watches her fingers tremble with excitement.
“Please,” Oh, he’d forgotten how sweet she could be when she wanted something. “Please, tell me.”
He could deny her nothing, especially not when he had so much to make up for.
“I want you to smother me,” He says quite candidly, “I want to bend you over this bed and wrap my arm around you, and know that I’m holding exactly what I’ve done to you.”
Another whine leaves her lips, her pupils dilated, black swallowing the pretty dark ring of her irises.
“I want to fill you up again, watch my come drip from your cunt and know it’s what made you so swollen. That I did this to you, that you’re completely full of me yet I can’t get enough of you.”
“Please, Draco.” It’s a whimper, a plea.
“Strip down for me, love. I want to see you.” Her fingers fly to the buttons of her blouse before hesitating, insecurity blooming across her expression and he wants to kick himself. “I’m sorry I scared you, I promise there is nothing about you that could disgust me.”
He has to pay penance for his sins, to worship the altar of the glorious woman he has the privilege to call his wife. Draco reaches for her, fingers tugging at her blouse, a beg for permission to undress her before she slowly nods, expression guarded as he carefully moves.
Merlin, how he’d missed her.
Draco undresses her with care, guiding her to the edge of the bed before sliding off her trousers, lowering himself to his knees before her. His cock strains painfully in his trousers at the sight of her. Her breasts had swelled, nearly spilling over the cups of her bra, the curve of her belly so lovely he might cry. Her flesh was dotted with little white and pink lines from the stretch of her skin.
“My poor little wife,” He coos, fingers slow as they drag up her thighs. “I’ve been a wretched husband, haven’t I? Neglecting my duties to you.”
Her knickers are soaked for him, the fabric drenched as he carefully removes the garment to reveal gleaming pink flesh. She was so pretty for him, like shimmering pink satin waiting to be ruined.
“Can you ever forgive me? Will you let me show you how terribly sorry I am?” He lets his lips press to her bump, relishing the feeling of her skin pressed to him.
Hermione is too good for him, gracious and giving as she parts her thighs so he can fit between them. She’d always been too good for him, too kind, too forgiving.
Draco makes sure to show exactly how grateful he is, nuzzling himself into the searing heat of her cunt and pouring his devotion into each flick of his tongue over her sex. He drinks her, catching each drop of arousal, he would not waste an ounce of her.
A sense of victory rushes through him as a pretty moan leaves her lips, head dropping back as her hands find his hair, gripping hard as she tugs him impossibly closer. He wraps his lips around her cunt, suckling until he pulls a shriek from her, slipping his fingers into her with ease and curling until he finds that spongy little spot inside her.
Her thighs snap around his head, body trembling as he presses gently inside her, playing exactly how she likes.
“Draco,” He recognizes the warble of her voice, peaky in warning. “Please, it’s going to be a mess– you can’t—”
He didn’t quite care if it was a mess, he would do exactly as he pleased. And what he pleased was to drown between her thighs.
“I believe I told you that I wanted you to smother me,” He murmurs against her flesh, smiling at her shudder.
She seems to be done resisting him, eager to give in, his brilliant witch once more done hiding away from him.
She makes such a pretty mess for him, the walls of her cunt pulsing around his fingers as she soaks his hand, dripping down his chin as he drinks her in.
“Such a perfect mess,” He hums, pressing his lips to her belly, slowly rising to push her farther up the bed.
He’s quick to pull her bra off, groaning at the sight of her plush tits, dropping his head down to nip across the swell of her breasts.
“I missed this,” Hermione moans, fingers tugging at his shirt, legs wrapping around his waist. “I missed you.”
Draco lets her pull the shirt off of him, quickly shucking off his trousers.
“I’m sorry, I should have said something, I didn’t—“
“I will never—“ She interrupts, fingers tugging at his chin to pull his gaze to herself. “Never shame you, I love you thoroughly.”
He crashes his lips to hers, pressing himself as close to her as their bodies will allow, caressing a hand around her bump.
Something swells in his chest, a heaviness lifting from his shoulders, overwhelmed by his love for her. Merlin, she really was too good for him.
Draco flips them over, bending her body over the bed to wrap an arm around her belly, watching as she eagerly spreads her legs for him.
“Please, please—“ She gasps, an eager hand reaching behind to help guide him inside her.
He groans as he presses into the searing heat of her, dropping his head into her curls as her cunt greedily pulls him deeper.
Her belly fits perfectly beneath his grasp, heat flashing through him as that insatiable little voice whispers mine, mine, mine—
“You were made for this,” He growls, hips snapping as her back arches against them.
“Yes—“ She agrees immediately, wobbling in his grasp.
“I should keep you full of me, stuffed and dripping— would you like that, little wife?” His pace is relentless, hip bones smacking against the plush curve of her arse.
Pleasure pricks at the base of his spine, building low in his abdomen as heat floods through him.
“Oh god— yes, please—“ Hermione whimpers, pitch peaking so perfectly. “I need it, I need you—“
“I know, I know,” He soothes, dropping his hand below her belly to circle her clit. “I’ve got you, darling— just like that, can you give me one more?”
Her head falls back against his shoulder, curls spilling and exposing the flush high on her cheeks, lips parted prettily.
“My pretty wife— you’re so close, darling— oh I know, you can do it,” She breaks at his words, crying out as her cunt pulses around him. “Just like that, so perfect— fuck—“
Draco groans, hips stuttering as orgasm overtakes him, fucking her through each wave of pleasure.
His come drips from where their bodies join, smearing across her thighs, messy as her cunt throbs.
They collapse onto the bed, and she quickly turns to face him, snuggling as close as her bump will let her. There’s an ease of heart rate, lungs refill properly with air, muscles relaxing as they lay skin to skin.
“I’m sorry.” He murmurs into her hair, inhaling the sweet lavender of her.
“Please just tell me next time,” She says, cuddling closer. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Guilt floods through him, little flickers of words, that same threat of shame waiting to overtake him.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do,” Hermione reassures immediately, expression deadly serious. “We deserve each other. You’re for me, always.”
She blinks a few times before speaking again.
“Also, I’m anything but foolish. If I’ve picked you then you’re the one.” She says with certainty, lips pursing in that swotty way as if challenging him to argue.
Draco can’t help the laugh that escapes, relief flooding through him as he smiles.
“You’re right, darling, I’m terribly sorry for second-guessing you.”
She nods approvingly before snuggling back into his arms.
It’s as she nods off, breathing evening out as she slips into slumber that he feels it, a little pitter-patter where his hand rests on her belly, little feet kicking to say hello.
Everything he could have ever wanted was right in his hands.