Most ardently by Swift Knight, Incandescently happy, an
explicit one shot from the world of Most ardently.
After waving goodbye and watching as the last carriage
left through the gates at Malfoy Manor, Draco lifted his bride to
carry her over the threshold. He was nothing if not
traditional. Draco put me down at once.
She protested while squirming in his arms.
The movement caused her gold dress to ripple in the evening
candlelight, illuminating her face as she laughed.
He had thought that nothing could ever dazzle him more than
Hermione in the periwinkle dress she wore to the Yule Ball, but
he was wrong. She glowed in gold and he vowed
to buy her 100 dresses in the shade just to be continually
dazzled by the view. As you wish, wife.
He acquiesced once they passed through the doors and were back
in the entrance hall. Her giggles subsided as her feet
returned to the floor. She righted herself, glancing
around the room in surprise. Where is everyone?
She inquired, her brow furrowing at the endearing way that
signalled she was overthinking. While their friends had all
departed after the wedding to return to their nearby estates
or rented rooms at the Peacock Plume, the Weasleys and the
Grangers would remain for one more night at the Manor.
His mother had ensured that their guest chambers were
situated on the opposite end of the house from the room he would
share with his wife tonight. It seemed Narsisa had taken the
extra initiative to escort them there herself, so as to leave
the newlywed couple undisturbed for the remainder of the
evening. I'm sure they've all gone to
bed, it is very late after all, and it was quite a lively
celebration. He assured her, taking her hand
and bringing it to his lips. The day had truly been a
whirlwind. The Manor had been a flurry of
activity since dawn, with the elves rushing to prepare before
the guests arrived. Around afternoon, the first
guests began to appear and time flowed faster from that moment
onward. His closest friends, Blaise and
Theo, had joined him as his groomsmen at the altar.
Married life seemed to suit the gentleman, and Draco could not
wait to join them. The ceremony was a moment he
would never allow himself to forget, and the following
reception included several dances and many congratulations
to the couple. While he didn't part from her
side for the entire afternoon and evening, they hadn't been
afforded a single moment alone. Oh.
Her cheeks flushed the loveliest shade of pink at the contact.
I suppose we should go to bed as well.
I suppose we should. Draco could sense her nerves,
though she had no reason to worry.
He held every intention to please his wife on their wedding
night and every night after. Though he would have enjoyed
scooping her up into his arms again, he suspected she might
hex him if he tried. Instead, he elected to offer his
arm and guide the new Missus Malfoy up the stairs and down
the private corridor to the chambers they would now share.
He had the rooms redecorated over the last month in the hopes
of making Hermione more comfortable.
They had their own private sitting room with large windows
overlooking the hedge maze while the opposite wall was lined with
bookshelves. He planned to rotate the
collection every few months to match his wife's current
interests, but for now he had a mix of all subjects.
The books were the first thing she noticed, walking over to run
her fingers along the spines as she examined them.
After giving her a moment to peruse the collection, he took
her away to show her their bed chambers.
He heard her breath hitch beside him as the double doors opened
to reveal a large 4 poster bed draped in a silk canopy that
faced the windows. We each have a dressing room.
Draco pointed out the 2 doors on the other end of the room and
they connect to the washroom. She floated inside, her eyes
darting about as she inspected the space.
My mother told me that couples of such high rank don't often
share a room. Well, most couples at heart rank
often marry out of financial necessity, not love.
Their manners are grand enough to accommodate them living
almost separate lives in private.
It was true that if he had followed his father's plan for
his life and married Astoria or another witch like her, he would
have insisted on separate beds, perhaps even separate wings of
the house. Physical intimacy would have
been restricted to procreation with the end goal of obtaining
an air. The idea of confining himself to
such a cold future with Hermione was unfathomable.
He wanted to feel her warmth beside him every night, and he
hoped she would not object to that arrangement.
The need to be close to her intensified, and he closed the
distance between them to lay a kiss upon her forehead.
It has been a long day, why don't we get ready for bed?
He proposed, hoping a few moments to prepare might help
relax her. Hermione nodded and the two
parted to their separate dressing rooms.
Once the door clicked close, he easily stripped out of his dress
robes, reaching for a simple cotton shirt and sleep trousers.
Draco usually preferred to sleep without wearing anything most
nights, but he thought his new wife might faint as she returned
to their bed to find him already undressed.
He caught the sight of himself in the mirror while he donned
his shirt. Draco's own anxiety spiked upon
the visible reminder of his scars.
They covered his entire chest, and though they had faded over
the years, they were still jarring.
He could not help but wonder what Hermione might make of this
disfigurement. She already knew the story
behind them, but to bear himself to her was much more daunting.
He rushed to dress, if only to not have to continue looking at
them when they were covered once more.
He looked back in the mirror for a final glance to check his hair
before walking back into their room.
Hermione had still not reappeared, but he hadn't
expected her to be the first to return.
Seeing as which his dresses were anything but simple to remove.
He took up residence at the foot of their bed and waited.
Patience was a virtue, but not one Draco possessed.
The longer he waited, the more apprehensive he became about his
wife's absence. He was just debating whether or
not to check on her when he heard her Yelp from behind the
door. Immediately he was on his feet,
bounding forward until his hand wrapped around the knob.
Hermione. He called out.
Are you all right, darling? When he didn't receive a
response, he slowly opened the door and peeked his head inside.
Hermione had changed out of her golden wedding dress into a
simple nightgown and appeared to be in the process of taking out
the Pearl hairpins that had held her hair up all evening, though
she was currently sucking on her thumb with her brows knitted
together in pain. It was an unintentionally erotic
display, and he felt himself begin to harden in response,
though it was far too soon for such an action.
Sorry. She said once the digit was
removed from her lips. Luna usually removes them, and I
stabbed myself while trying to do it myself.
The explanation cleared up his confusion and he stepped into
the room. At least he now understood the
reason for her delay. Allow me.
Then. He came to stand behind her
while she faced the mirror. Just be gentle, Draco.
She requested as her hands fell to her side.
They are quite delicate. He couldn't help but wonder if
the request had a deeper meaning.
I won't let any harm come to you or your hairpins.
He vowed. Draco observed her in the
mirror, noting the smile that appeared as he made his promise.
After a brief inspection of the work to be done, he began the
slow process of carefully removing each pin, placing it in
the bowl that floated beside them.
The pins themselves were quite beautiful, and he had learnt
that they were a gift from the Grangers.
When she came of age, Draco catalogued her preference for
pearls over gemstones and made a note to check the various vaults
at Gringotts for any pieces that could complement them.
If no heirloom would suffice, he would easily have a custom piece
of jewellery commissioned for her, perhaps some earrings for
her birthday, and a necklace for Yule.
As he pulled out the last pin, he heard her audibly sigh in
relief and chuckled at the sound.
Who's that Better, my dear, Much better.
I only wish you would not call me my Tear.
Her expression turned somewhat sour in the mirror.
He quirked his head at the request.
Why ever not? Well, mostly because it makes me
feel like a child. The Weaseleys are the only ones
who ever call me by that endearment, and often when they
were cross with me. It was a reasonable distinction,
and he quickly wished to clarify if there were any other names
she wanted him to avoid. Then I must ask what endearments
I am allowed. Her brows once again scrunched
together as she pondered his question.
Hermiony for every day, my darling for Sundays, and the
brightest witch of my age, but only when I've truly earned it.
She looked quite smug as she listed them off.
He hoofed and rolled his eyes. I am amiable to all of those.
But what should I call you when I am cross, Mrs. Malfoy?
No. She shook her head in
disapproval. No, you may only call me Mrs.
Malfoy when you are completely and incandescently happy.
She was grossly underestimating how happy he planned to be now
that he had made her his wife, but perhaps she needed a
demonstration. Stepping forward, he closed the
distance between them until his chest pressed firmly against her
back, a hand coming up to wrap around her waist.
The other hand gently brushed her hair off her shoulder,
exposing the delicate skin of her neck.
He leaned down, pressing his lips to Ghost just above her
pulse point as he spoke. Anything for you, missus Malfoy.
His lips lowered to press against her skin.
He felt Hermione instantly melt at the touch, leaning further
into him as she sighed. Missus Malfoy.
He repeated before moving further down her neck, his other
hand wrapped around to cut her breast.
She exposed more of her neck to give him better access and he
watched as one sleeve of her nightgown slipped off her
shoulder. Missus Malfoy.
He purred for a third time as he felt the last of her defences
crumble and her eyes fluttered shut.
Trico. He would never grow tired of the
way she said his name. As much as he did not want his
lips to ever leave her skin, he was not about to have their
first night together take place in his wife's dressing room.
Hermione deserved to be savoured, cherished, worshipped
until she was writhing beneath him.
The thought alone was enough to motivate him into momentarily
restraining his desire to ravish her.
Come to bed, Hermione. He tugged her out of the
dressing room, not stopping until he reached their
destination. When Draco turned to face her,
he found her examining the plush duvet while biting her lip.
Are you nervous, my darling? He already knew the answer, but
perhaps a conversation could help alleviate her chronic
overthinking. Aren't all brides on their
wedding night? His wife replied.
Instead of giving a direct answer, he shrugged.
I suspect only the virtuous ones.
Draco's hands rested on her hips, rubbing smooth circles
with his thumbs. She resumed gnawing on her lower
lip. Well, it hurt terribly when you.
Hermione finally asked. No, he aimed to correct the
misconception. If I do it properly, it will be
equally pleasurable for both of us.
And he planned to do it properly.
But my mother said Wizards always enjoy it far more than
their wives at first. That witches have to grow to
like it. But the first time, Draco was
suddenly quite cross with Missus Weasley.
While the act of consummation could often be awkward for
couples marrying out of duty, it should be looked upon with
heightened anticipation by those lucky enough to be in love
matches. Missus Weasley's fear mongering
resulted in his wife entirely unprepared to participate in the
joy that should accompany the intimacy of their wedding night.
You look angry. She said, her shoulders curling
in. I shouldn't have said anything.
He shook his head. Hermione, no, I am not angry
with you. More surprised by your lack of
knowledge on the subject, but that isn't your fault.
I'm sorry you have spent all this time dreading our wedding
night when you should have been looking forward to it like I
have. Her face flushed again, but she
still refused to meet his eye. Draco brought her hand up to cut
her cheek, waiting for his lioness to find her courage.
What's it if I'm not good at it? What if I can't?
What if I can't satisfy you? She eventually asked.
The question was utterly preposterous, but he refrained
from scoffing at his wife's lack of confidence.
While he may have already satisfied himself on the mere
imagining of their wedding night, he didn't think
confessing to such a thing would bring her any comfort in her
current state. He longed to return to their
tender touches that they'd begun in her dressing room.
If it was the culminating act that made her so nervous,
perhaps he should focus instead on easing her into it.
I have no doubt in your abilities, my darling, he
reassured her. But I need to know if you can
trust me to satisfy you. If I am allowed to touch you,
caress you in all the ways I want to help you discover your
pleasure, I do trust you. She insisted.
And I like it when you touch me, but I don't know what I am
supposed to do. It comes naturally, Hermione.
Just do whatever feels good. I'll tell you if I don't like
something and you do the same. All right, all right.
The word was just a perv, a whisper.
I'd like to kiss you now. Draco informed her, feeling a
bit silly for having to say it out loud.
He had barely been able to keep his eyes from drifting to her
lips in every interaction they'd had since the evening he met
her. I would like to kiss you too.
He took her affirmation as permission to proceed.
Careful to not frighten her or to send her deeper into her own
thoughts. Draco leaned forward to close
the short distance between them, his lips pressing against hers.
He held the kiss, gentle at first, to test her reaction, and
when her lips moulded to his, eager and wanting, he happily
obliged her. This wasn't like the first kiss
shared this afternoon at the altar.
While tender, its primary purpose had been a display of
affection for their family and friends to applaud at.
This was private, a kiss just for them.
It was a promise of what the knight had in store, a
demonstration of how desperately he craved her.
As Hermione's hands tangled in his hair to pull him closer, he
turned to pin her body between himself and the mattress.
Slowly, her hands snaked down his neck, over his shoulders,
her fists eventually clenching under the cotton of his shirt.
Sensing her intentions, he leaned back just enough that she
could begin to work the fabric up his torso to get the garment
over his head. Their lips were unfortunately
forced to part for the first time since they began.
The shirt was quickly discarded and he felt self-conscious when
he noticed Hermione appraising his newly revealed scars.
He flinched out of habit when her fingers reached forward to
stroke the most prominent one over his heart.
Do they still hurt? His wife asked when she caught
the movement. Sometimes when I look at them, I
can feel the phantom pain from that day, but the healers say
that isn't uncommon. He shivered under the gentleness
of her touch. Her delicate fingers traced
along the raised Ridge. While his scars didn't fade at
the contact, his worry over how she would perceive them did.
What now? Hermione interrupted the silence
that had settled between them. Her expression had softened, her
voice no longer filled with apprehension from before their
kiss, only anticipation. Crawl up on the bed.
He instructed, holding back a laugh when she eagerly complied.
Who knew that all it took to get the witch to do as she was told
was to kiss her senseless and then promise her more?
He followed after her, noticing her nightgown had slipped off
her shoulder again. Hermione gently oriented herself
with her head on the pillows in the centre of the bed, and Draco
moved to settle above her, supporting his weight on his
elbows to keep from crushing her.
They resumed their kissing, Draco having to go the extra
effort to keep his cock from pressing into her stomach.
It would have its turn, but not until Draco ensured she was
ready. Her legs came up to wrap around
his waist and he used the opportunity to slide her
nightgown up her leg, caressing the smooth skin along her thigh.
He paused when her breath hitched.
May I? He nudged the dress further up
her thighs to illustrate his intentions.
Hermione nodded and he pushed himself up on his knees to grab
the hem and slowly work the bunched fabric up her body until
it slipped over her head. Draco's eyes roamed her exposed
skin, disappointed at his wife's attempts to cover her bare
breasts when she caught his ogling.
You have nothing to hide from me, my darling.
Draco reminded her. Let me see you, please.
Tentatively, she lowered her arm, her chest rising and
falling with each breath. His eyes returned to her face,
eager to witness her reaction as he leaned down to latch his
mouth onto one of her exposed nipples.
And swirl his tongue around the exposed bud.
Her pupils blew wide with lust as her head fell onto the pillow
while her back arched off the bed.
The taste of her skin was divine.
Draker could smell the lavender perfume that had been liberally
applied earlier in the day. He made a note to instruct the
house elves to always have a full bottle available on her
vanity in the washroom. Hermione whined as he released
her sensitive nipple, but he merely moved to lavish her other
breast with equal reverence. Draco.
She moaned. Please.
His cock twitched at her begging and he rushed to please her.
What do you need, Hermione? More, his wife pleaded.
Then more she would have. He kissed her deeply as his head
finally snuck down to settle between her thighs.
Draco inhaled her gasp as his fingers ghosted over her
entrance. He knew better than to rush,
letting his finger gently circle while his thumb sought out her
sensitive nub. Upon locating it, he applied the
slightest pressure while finally nudging his finger inside her to
the first knuckle. Merlin.
Hermione exclaimed. That feels amazing.
He chuckled, pushing himself in further.
While I am happy to hear you are enjoying yourself, my darling
wife, perhaps it would be wise to refrain from calling out
another wizard's name while I am inside you.
Her face and chest were already flushed, but he could see the
embarrassment colour her features.
Sorry. She cringed just as he pushed
the rest of the way in. She was tight, her inner walls
clamping down on the single digit.
Cautiously, he worked his finger inside her, keeping a close
watch on her face for any discomfort.
The slick sounds of his thrusts were drowned out by his wife's
moans. After a few minutes of coaxing,
she'd relaxed enough for him to add a second finger.
You are so perfect, darling, taking my fingers so well.
Her inner walls tightened greedily at his praise, and he
could sense the release of rapidly approaching.
Are you ready for me to make you mine?
To claim you as a husband should?
Yes. More, Draco, I need more.
He curled his fingers forward, letting them brush her front
wall before removing them despite her protest.
Reaching for his waistband, Draco hurried to untie his
trousers as she shoved them down his legs, allowing his cock to
spring free and press against the inside of her mighty thigh.
Her eyes went wide as she beheld his cock.
I hadn't expected it to be so big.
His wife had no idea what a statement like that could do to
a wizard, but before it could go to his head, Draco sensed her
panic building again. You can take it.
He said as he leaned down to nibble affectionately on her
neck. We were made for each other.
She was his equal, his partner, his wife, his.
He wouldn't waste another second without claiming her.
Draco continued to lavish her neck with kisses as he adjusted
to notch his cock at her entrance.
Hold on to me, Hermione. He commanded as he pressed
inside. They cried out in unison, his
vision blurring at the feel of being inside her at last.
Pausing a moment as she acclimated to the sudden
intrusion, he attempted to steady his breathing.
Hermione clawed at him, her nails scratching at his back
with enough force to sting and earning A hiss.
Though he didn't try to stop her.
Once he felt his control return, he nudged himself deeper,
keeping watch over his wife to ensure he wasn't causing her
discomfort. When he felt himself fully
seated, he groaned loud enough that he was grateful for the
permanent silencing charm on the door to their chambers.
Unable to push himself any further, he naturally pulled
back before thrusting himself back to the hilt.
Hermione whimpered at the action.
Did I hurt you? He'd been trying so hard to
avoid being too rough with her. No, please don't stop, she
begged. Keep going.
He searched her expression for any hint of pain, but found only
longing. Draker repeated the movement
from before his wife, releasing another moan.
You are so perfect. He declared as he began to
establish a rhythm to his thrusts.
I'll never have enough of you. His fantasies of this night were
nothing compared to the reality before him.
He was transfixed as she writhed beneath him, each breathy moan
setting him on fire. With his climax fast approaching
at the sight and feel of her, he was desperate to help her find
her own release. He wouldn't be able to classify
himself as a gentleman if he failed to put her first on their
wedding night. Careful to not interrupt his
steady cadence, he slipped a hand between them, searching for
her sensitive bud as he began to rub gentle circles in time with
his thrust. Hermione's eyes rolled back, her
volume increasing. Seconds later, he felt her
shatter. The fluttering of her inner
walls around his cock was too much stimulation.
He faltered as he felt himself spill inside her in several
spurts between his final thrusts.
Their ragged breathing continued as he gently pulled himself free
before collapsing on the mattress beside his wife.
For a few minutes, the room was only filled with the sound of
breathing. When he felt the shiver beside
him. He rose to tuck her beneath the
blankets and crawled in after extinguishing the nearby
candles. His need for closeness had not
faded, and he tooked her into his chest.
As he settled. She resumed tracing his scars,
and he closed his eyes as he felt sleep quickly begin to
descend upon him. Otraco.
Hermione spoke for the first time since they concluded their
consummation. Yes, my darling.
He peaked his eyes open to find her bathed in moonlight.
Can you teach me how to Apparate?
The unexpected question felt entirely out of place, but it
wasn't her desire to learn that confused him, but the fact that
she had not learned to do so already.
I would have assumed you already knew how.
Draco remarked. But seeing how you quickly
mastered the corporeal Plutonius, I have no doubts in
your abilities to learn. My father wouldn't teach me.
I was told I would need permission from my husband.
Her lip curled into a pout. The idea was absurd.
Her husband's role was to be a protector, but that did not mean
he had to clip his wife's wings and keep her locked away in a
cage of his own creation. Hermione had already proven that
she was more than capable challenging herself and others.
It had been what drew him to her in the 1st place.
A ring on her finger didn't change her into someone content
with being idle. Well, I won't refuse you.
He insisted. I'll have a dollop pull the
texts on the theory so we can discuss them before moving on to
any practical obligations. Thank you.
She squealed, a smile overtaking her features as she cuddled
closer. It was endearing to see her so
excited. He suspected from past
experiences that she was slow to accept gifts, especially those
of great monetary value. If his wife didn't wish for fine
clothes and jewelry to fill her dressing room, he would fill her
mind with knowledge. The knowledge he procured for
her would fill the Malfoy library for generations to come,
and he had no doubt their children would inherit her
thirst for knowledge. In the minutes that followed,
Hermione was unable to keep her eyes open, quickly drifting off
while he played with a loose curl of her hair.
As his own eyes struggled to remain open, he brushed a final
kiss across her temple. Sweet dreams, Missus Malfoy,
thank you for listening to most ardently, Most ardently moments
and incandescently happy. All stories as part of the world
of Most ardently narrated by me, Briar and tones.
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