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Expecting Otherwise by majamariamaja
Chapter 12: Removing Splinters From My Tongue
Chapter 12. Removing Splinters From My Tongue
**In Hermione's PoV**
I was flipping through the photo album, sighing as I looked into my younger self's eyes.
"Hey, what are you doing up?"
I raised my head, giving my husband a melancholy smile as I saw him leaning against the doorframe into the living room. One would think that after seventeen years of marriage my blazing attraction to him would've somewhat ebbed away. This could not be further from the truth. Watching him love Adella and Heath had only made me love him more, and made him even sexier in my eyes - if that was even possible.
As cliché and sappy as that sounds, it was the truth and I was sticking to it.
"Couldn't sleep," I told him quietly, turning my focus away from Draco's ever-sparkling eyes(that still made my stomach do some serious backflips) to the album in my lap.
He walked over to me, the dimly lit room giving him a mysterious air, and placed a soft kiss on my forehead before sitting down beside me. "It's going to be okay, you know."
"Of course. It's just that..."
"What?" he inquired tenderly.
"Aren't I too young to be a grandmother?" I asked him, voicing my very self-absorbing thoughts. I was aware of how selfish I sounded, but I couldn't deny the stress I was feeling. "Don't you need to pass a certain age before it's even possible to become one? I don't even have any grey hair! Grandmothers need gray hair."
"I think it's cool," he said easily, using a careful voice to remind me not to wake the children. "We'll be the sexiest grandparents in history."
I ignored his attempt at trying to lighten the mood and distracting me from my worries. My eyes went back to the pictures of myself, now studying my young face holding a newborn Adella.
"Where did this woman go? Look how young and carefree I am," I whispered, and pondered about how strange it felt to suddenly be old enough for my kids to have kids. "Dear Merlin, I am old! I'm going to be a grandmother. A mother of a mother. I'm getting older by the second, I can feel it!"
"Would you stop? You look amazing!" Draco assured me, taking my hand and pressing it against his full lips. My heart did a fluttery thing but I just barely noticed it being too wrapped up in myself.
"I don't look like this anymore, which means I'm old," I concluded, not taking my intense stare away from the photos.
"Come on, of course you still look like that," he said, taking the photo album and closing it before putting it away. I didn't stop him, instead I stared down at our interlaced fingers.
"Should I just stop obsessing about how much older I look?"
"Yes. Because you are a stunningly beautiful woman, and I love you."
"Wrong," I told him, raising my eyes and squinting them at him. "The correct response would be, 'You don't look any older'."
"Wha- That was a trap!" he exclaimed, and I put my hand over his mouth. I didn't want to wake Adella, it didn't look like she'd gotten enough sleep these past few nights. The bags under her eyes and unusually pale skin was worrying me, and just now I decided to force feed her lots of fruit and vegetables while here - I'm sure she doesn't eat them at Hogwarts. Especially not carrots, and I never understood why.
Draco didn't remove my hand from his mouth, but instead gave it a kiss. My palm tickled, forcing a smile to morph onto my face. I then replaced my hand with my own pair of lips, gently pressing them against his.
A low moan escaped Draco, urging me on, bringing out the need to be closer to him.
Draco's thoughts seemed to match mine and pulled me closer to him, curling one ridiculously muscular arm around my waist.
A piercing noise broke us apart, and Draco's hand immediately found his wand and pointed it at the direction of the sound.
"It's the kettle," I explained, wiggling out of Draco's protective arms.
He relaxed and put his wand back in his pocket. "Well, then let's get back to -" He didn't finish his sentence, but instead yanked me onto his lap and caught my mouth with his.
"It's still making noise," I pointed out, but not making a move to get up. This position left very little of my self-control intact.
"Ignore it," he breathed against my mouth, successfully shutting me up.
"That's disgusting," said a little voice from the doorway, coughing awkwardly.
Draco and I sprung apart, turning our glazed eyes at our son in his space-something pajamas.
"What is it, mate?" Draco had snapped quicker into the present than I had, putting a pillow over his lap to cover up the evidence of our moment of passion.
"The kettle woke me up," he muttered, too embarrassed to meet our gaze.
"Oh, sorry," Draco said, after which there was a long and tense silence. "Uhm, I was just, you know, helping your mother get a splinter out of her tongue," he stammered meekly.
I looked at my husband, thoroughly amused. Heath didn't seem to buy this explanation, and lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at his father. I could never get used to how identical their eyes were, and it warmed my chest. Some day some girl would lose herself in them, just as I had all those years ago.
I got to my feet, went into the kitchen and pulled the kettle off the stove. With a flick of my wand it went silent, and the water poured itself into a cup. After adding sugar and a bag of chamomille tea, I returned to the living room.
"- ..but how did she get it in her tongue?" Heath interrogated his father, his skinny arms folded in front of his chest.
"Well, she fell outside and-and then she got a, ehm, mouthful o-of dirt and stuff, and, ehm, there was a pine cone there and-"
"That doesn't make sense," Heath observed. "Are you sure that's what happened?"
"That's the story I'm sticking with, yes."
I swallowed a laugh, looking at the two of them from behind a bookshelf, them now staring at each other.
I took my eyes off them for two seconds, my attention stolen by a misplaced book. 'Wuthering Hights' definitely did not belong in the D-section! With efficient fingers I put the book back into its place, giving it a loving stroke along the edge before I again returned to Heath and Draco in the living room - only Heath wasn't there anymore.
Cradling my cup of tea I stepped out from my hiding place. As I made my prescence known, Draco's head snapped in my direction, frowning.
"Cheers for that, Brownie," he said sourly. "Now my son thinks I'm a nutter."
"Well, it was about time he caught on," I teased. "But seriously, pine cones?"
"The only two things coming to mind at that moment were your breasts and pine cones, so I chose the latter," he told me.
"My breasts? How could I possibly have gotten a splinter in my tongue from them?"
"Thus the reason I chose pine cones, du-uh!"
The smell of chamomille filled my senses, and I gave a yawn. Draco was sulking, his arms crossed over his broad chest. While taking a careful sip of the hot beverage I studied my husband.
I remember quite clearly how his prescence had this frightening affect on me, and his high level of attractiveness hadn't helped. What was frustrating was that neither of these things had changed much after all these years. We were more comfortable now, of course, and I felt closer to him than I could've ever imagined possible, but it still caught me off guard.
When I watched him now I could easily see his 22-year-old self, how he looked and smelled and felt that time we'd met by chance after four years of not seeing one another.
Here we were, almost eightteen years later, and I was now his wife.
If someone told me when at Hogwarts that I'd be happily married to Draco Malfoy later in life, I would've punched them. Very hard.
It seemed like yesterday... My days at the castle with Ron and Harry, saving the world from the early age of eleven. Heath's age.
Heath's age? No, that could not be. I hadn't been that young, had I? I certainly hadn't felt that young.
And now...I was old.
Draco was now studying my face, probably noticing how I was beginning to tense up again. I clicked my wedding ring against the cup, making annoying, rythmical noises that I didn't really hear until Draco's hands were on my shoulders.
"What's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?" he whispered softly, digging his eyes into mine. How could he still, after this many years, not know that him turning those eyes at me didn't work? Instead it made me suffocate on the butterflies that were roaming around inside me - which didn't exactly help me form coherent sentences.
I had to look away to regain my focus.
"It was just a passing thought," I lied.
"Well, pass it over here."
"I'm old," I repeated for the umpteenth time in less than an hour.
"Are we back on that again?" Draco sighed, but his tone was low and it made my skin tingle.
"There's nothing 'grand' about being a grandparent," I blurted, not able to contain it anymore. "Not when you're under the age of forty."
"You're thirty-nine and a half."
My eyes shot daggers at him. He visibly shrinked.
"Why not let me have it? Huh? Just this one time?"
"Sorry," he apologized, dropping his hands to his sides. "But at least you don't look-"
"Save it," I scoffed, sliding past him and beginning my trek upstairs to our bedroom.
"Are you mad?"
I didn't answer.
"You're mad, aren't you?"
Didn't answer now, either. This would surely drive him crazy. Well, he deserved it. Besides - he was really cute when he was frustrated.
"Brownie," Draco whined, dragging the word.
I couldn't believe he still called me that. It was so stupid, giving me a nickname based upon my hair-colour.
That's why I sometimes called him 'Blondie', as a payback. But he didn't seem to mind. Which was bloody annoying.
Without intending to I ended up in front of the mirror in our bathroom, frowning at my reflection.
"You alright?" Draco put his large, warm hands on my shoulders, locking eyes with me in the mirror.
"Time's marching on, and eventually you start to realise it's marching across your face..." I muttered mostly to myself, letting out an emotionally loaded sigh.
"What are you on about, Brownie?"
"I really am old."
"Absolutely not!" he cried, and then drastically lowered his voice to compensate for his outburst. "That would entail that I'm old as well, and that's just crazy talk."
"It's different for men," I told him. "When you get older it's sexy, but with women... it's disgusting."
"You're being silly," Draco stated, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, his fingers playing with the necklace he'd given me last Valentine's Day.
"George Clooney is hotter than ever, but look at Madonna the last years," I began, my argument was rock solid. "She tries as hard as she can to stay young and sexy, but it just ends up looking disturbing."
"That's different. Have you seen her videos lately? She's like, I dunno, a hundred, dresses like a discount prostitute, and shakes her bony arse thinking that it's hot. You're not like that. You dress like a sane person, and-"
"Well, I have to, don't I?" I interrupted him. "Who would take me seriously as a Minister of Magic if I paraded around like that?"
Draco looked disgruntled for a moment, his eyebrows pulled down. "I bet that secretary of yours would enjoy it..." he muttered.
"Gary?" I thought about that for a few seconds. The young lad(whom I seriously believed had a Gold Membership at the gym) had always had a thing for me, and he didn't make a secret of it either. "Yes, I bet he would," I concurred, grinning now as I imagined Gary's expression if I dressed like Madonna for a day.
"See what I mean? Even 20-something year old blokes are attracted to you!" He sounded thoroughly sick of this conversation, and I know he hoped it was nearing its end. "I think I just proved my point perfectly."
"So I shouldn't feel like a gross Madonna?"
"Not at all!" He pointed a finger at my reflection as if that was proof enough. "Look at yourself! You don't even have any wrinkles-"
"Oh, really?" I whipped around so we were standing face to face, our chests only inches away from touching. "Well, feast your eyes on this!"
I pointed intently at the crease between my brows - a grotesque wrinkle, in my opinion - and stood on my tippy toes so that my tall husband would see it more closely.
"You know you've always had that, right?" Draco pointed out after a few long seconds of silence.
"No, I haven't," I snorted unattractively. "This is all new, I found it tonight. It's as if I grew old and revolting like that -" I snapped my fingers.
"You only think so because Del's having a baby. It's all in your head."
"There's two of them," I reminded him.
"In three months I'll have two grandkids," I said as if this settled everything.
"You're not old," he firmly assured me, and nodding gravely to illustrate his point. "You're older than you were at eightteen, but thank Merlin you are! How would it look if I, a forty-year old man, went about town getting frisky with a teenager? Not good, I'll tell you that much."
And there's why I loved him; he made me laugh.
"Now that that's settled, would you care to join me in the shower?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, grinning in a way that made me stop breathing for a second.
Heartbeats accelerated as his fingers crawled from my collarbone and up my neck, leaving searing sensations in their wake. My breath caught when his other arm yanked me closer, my hands holding tightly onto his shirt, fearful of what might happen if I let go.
Slowly, oh, so slowly, Draco peeled down the straps holding up my tank top, and then lowered his face to plant light kisses on my bare shoulders. The meeting of lips against skin caused goosebumps to attack my body, every hair on me standing on end.
How does he do that? I wondered when I suddenly noticed I was naked from the waist up, his calloused, big hands sliding down to unbuckle my belt.
The rational, sensible side of my brain(which was always impaired by Draco's prescence) had been pushed aside by a stronger force than I was comfortable describing. Hands, my hands it appeared, were very intent on getting this man's shirt off, but my desire made me clumsy and I wasn't able to unbutton it. I whimpered, frustrated over not getting my husband naked as quickly as I wanted.
Draco deciphered my impatient moans, and with a single forceful tug of those strong hands he ripped the shirt apart, buttons crashing on the walls like bullets.
Excitement rushed through me, blood boiling in my veins as his broad, muscular chest practically begged me to touch it. I happily complied.
Muscles tensed as my palms met his now naked torso, feeling the soft hairs that lead from where my hands were on his chest, further down past his stomach and until it disappeared under his pants.
The line of fair hair acted as a path, leading my slightly trembling hands further and further down until the trail ended, but I put my fingers to work and managed to quickly unzip his pants.
I heard sharp intake of breath from Draco, his hands suddenly frozen in the middle of getting my pants over my hips. With a primal growling sound he swept me up in his arms and carried me into our spacious shower. I let out a squeal as I felt myself being lifted, and pondered how on earth he managed to turn on the water while still holding me.
I was instantly soaked, and loved the feeling of the warm water running down our bodies, gluing us together. My pants had somewhere down the line been removed from my legs, giving me a perfect opportunity to wrap them around Draco's hips, properly straddling him.
I swear to Merlin that when I grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him in for a very passionate kiss, I blacked out. Everything following this move was a blur of pleasure and intensity, only aware of our lust and how our bodies moved together.
A while later(I'm not sure how long, I tend to forget time and space during these sessions of ours) we lay sprawled on the tiles of the bathroom - having apparently moved from one place to another in our heated seanse - breathing heavily.
Oxygen returned to my body, lighting up the fog in my brain enough for me to realize that the shower was still running.
On shaky feet I raised myself up from the slippery tiles to turn the water off, and grabbed two towels. After throwing one at Draco's grin-infested face, I wrapped the other one around myself and went stumbling into the bedroom. Moving felt uncomfortable in a sort of pleasing way, and I looked forward to crashing on top of our massive bed.
But something was occupying my side. A box. I eyed it suspiciously.
"Draco?" I called, my voice hoarse. Dear Merlin, I hope I hadn't screamed too loud. That would make breakfast tomorrow morning a very uncomfortable affair.
"Si, señorita?" he called back, still slightly out of breath.
I rolled my eyes. Ever since Draco took that three-week Spanish class he'd gotten it into his head that he's fluent. He's not. And I would gladly strangle the teacher who taught him that stupid 'Tomorrow' song, cause the words "Mañana, mañana" gets old very soon. It wasn't even that funny the first time.
"Why is there a box from -" I checked the logo on the lid, "- Mrs Merlin's Secret on the bed?"
"It's your Christmas present," Draco told me, strutting out of the bathroom without a thead on him.
God, he's handsome, I thought as he moved confidently towards me - his tall, muscular body seeming to exude power and sexuality with each step. I dragged my eyes away, I was too sore to start up again, and watching him made it very difficult to contain certain urges.
"Open it," he suggested, coming even closer to me.
"A few hours early for Christmas presents now, aren't you?" I managed to ask, still refusing to look at that gorgeous husband of mine.
"And look at how much I care," he said, and I could feel him grinning. "But you can't have it unless you admit that you're a smoking piece of arse, and not old at all," he quicly added.
This time I allowed myself to look up, but only into his eyes. I was very careful not to look at anything else.
"Are you trying to bribe me?"
"Call it a present..." he began, and then a devious smile played on his swollen-from-our-intense-kisses lips, "with certain conditions attached to it."
Damn you, curiosity!
After agreeing to those conditions with an low 'huff', I opened up the box(very aware of the smile lurking in the corner of Draco's mouth) and picked up some sort of lacy piece of fabric.
I arched one eyebrow, looking at him as I held up the thing with only my index finger, cautious of not touching it too much.
Draco just grinned. I was afraid that his whole face would rip if it didn't loosen up.
"And what's this thing may I ask?" I asked him, not enthused.
"That is from the new Sexy Magic collection," he informed me, giving me a wink. "Fresh off the runway."
I gave the small, yet complicated, piece of undergarment a disapproving look. Draco just laughed.
"You can't expect me to wear this?" I asked with an unsure laugh, waiting for him to admit that he was pulling my giggle chain. He didn't respond, just looked at me with a sly smile. "I-I don't even see how I'm supposed to get it on."
"Yes, I had some trouble figuring that out myself, but the lady at the store explained it to me. See this?" He held up some strap, pointing at it while grinning at my expression. "That's supposed to go-"
"I can't bloody wear this!" I refused, throwing the Madonna-inspired lingerie back into the box. "I'm a grandmother."
Draco grabbed me around the waist and yanked me into his arms, causing the towel I'd wrapped around myself to fall in a heap at my feet. His lips hovered over mine as he dug his eyes into my own, giving my heart a shot of adrenaline.
"You're not my grandmother," he whispered, his breath hot on my lips.
Oh, well, I thought as I closed the distance between us, to hell with it.
Let's just say that he thoroughly proved I wasn't old that night, and continued reminding me at every convenient(and more than a few inconvenient) moments for a long time after that.
I was just experienced.
And by Merlin, so was he.
There we go! Hermione's point of view. Loved it, hated it?
I am sure you're aware of how much more sexual this chapter was, unlike the previous ones. Well, I really wanted for you to see the difference between Adella and Hermione's lives by writing the characters in completely different ways. Hermione has a whole other outlook on life and she's got her own way of handling things. She's more mature, she's in a very loving relatinship, and well, is a grownup basically - with the occational teenage cravings toward her husband. But seriously; who wouldn't? Draco is bleedin' hot!
Tell me what you think, please!