Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: twilightsorcery
From: inamac

Title: A Collection of Incunabula
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Hermione
Rating: NC17
Kinks/Themes Included: Wallsex and restrained hands!
Other Warnings/Content: Marital infidelity (technically), Epilogue compliant (sort of).
Word Count: 1575
Summary/Description: Twenty years after she left Hogwarts Hermione is still learning about the Wizarding World – and Wizards.
Author's Notes: Dear Deviant, Happy Kinky Kristmas. I had a lot of fun with this, the first line came as soon as I saw your prompt and I couldn't resist! Hope I didn't venture too far from the romantic tone (they neither of them wanted to be too soppy, even at Christmas.)



"Stonewall," said Hermione.

Draco Malfoy blotted his signature, turned over the document and placed it neatly in his OUT tray. "There's the Undercroft," he said, "And the East Wall of the library retains some of the original stonework from the Monastery, but most of it was robbed out after the Dissolution when the first Lucius rebuilt the place in brick for a visit by Queen Elizabeth. Did you have any particular stone wall in mind?"

"No. Oh do listen, Draco, this is important. Stonewall is a Muggle organisation for gay people. I'm considering setting up a branch for wizards."

Draco lifted the next document from the pile and began to read it through, quill poised. "I would have thought that you'd be better occupied in setting up an organisation for unhappy wizards rather than gay ones."

Hermione was far too old to stamp her foot in frustration, but she did take a deep breath. "Not gay as in happy," she said, with something of her adolescent impatience nevertheless showing through, "Gay as in homosexual. It's an organisation to combat prejudice and provide support. And considering that my son is fucking yours every night I think you might show some interest."

"Not every night. I believe Scorpius gets to fuck Hugo on alternate Tuesdays. Or so he tells me." He was careful not to let Hermione see his amused smile. When she was off on one of her charitable rants she did not appreciate levity. "Shouldn't you be talking to them? Though the sort of support implied by the organisation's name suggests that they have somewhat kinky ideas. Not that I have anything against fornicating up against a wall. As you well know."

"Stop trying to distract me, Draco. What about this donation? It's a good cause, and you have millions of galleons squirrelled away doing nothing that could be better employed helping people like our sons."

Draco closed the blotter on the last of his documents, set down his quill, and finally gave her his full attention. "Hermione, I meant it. Have you talked to any invert wizards about this? Because I'm not aware of any prejudice that needs to be combated. Any more than we need a 'support organisation' for cuckolded husbands and cheated wives. Our world isn't like the Muggle one."

"But there are injustices," she said.

He stood and took her in his arms. "Yes. And hundreds of house elves are grateful for that crusading zeal of yours, Hermione, but, as with them, you need to understand what people really want before you can help them."

Fifteen years ago she would not have believed that Draco Malfoy could be so understanding, but fifteen years ago they had not been lovers. The Wizarding World's acceptance of extra marital affairs dated from before the 1692 separation and his comment about cuckolded husbands and cheated wives had been ironic. She loved Ron, of course she did, she was his wife and the mother of his children and the maker of his home. Marriage in the Wizarding World valued all this, but did not require exclusive sexual fidelity, particularly among purebloods where the gene pool had always been small. The Black Tapestry and the Malfoy Roll were not entirely accurate with regard to the parentage of family members. It was expected that a married wizard would take a mistress from among wives of wizards in his social circle. Hermione, shocked at first by this attitude had now realised its advantages. Her sexual appetites were as wide as her reading while Ron was... well, Ron.

Draco, on the other hand, was far more adventurous in bed. Or rather, in flagrante delecto because beds rarely featured in their coupling.

"Now," he said, nuzzling his pointed nose under the collar of her gown, "You didn't come here just to dun me for some contribution to one of your good causes. You have other things to do. The library awaits."

She felt herself blush. When she had first been sent to Malfoy Manor it was on contract to the Ministry to check the library for Dark Texts. Draco, master of the house now that his parents had moved abroad, had admitted her with an amused smirk, and handed her the key and pass-charm to the secure room which held the most valuable works. Which turned out, to her surprise (and the Ministry's dismay) to be the most comprehensive collection of magical erotica in Europe.

She had been embarrassed, confused, intrigued and enchanted by turns, but mostly, once she had convinced her employers of the absence of Dark Texts, she had been annoyed by the appalling muddle of the Malfoy records and had set about compiling a proper catalogue.

Meanwhile, the owner of the collection had been cataloguing her.

"In the light of your interest in stone walls," he said, disentangling himself and guiding her out of the room with a proprietary hand in the small of her back, "I think you might be interested in something the house elves found while they were sorting out the Christmas decorations."

She had noticed that the elves had been at work. The scent of pine and orange and cinnamon pervaded the rooms. Even the inner sanctum to which he guided her had a small tree in one corner and a swag of holly and ivy garland threaded along red velvet rope above the fireplace. Candlelight cast a festive glow over the ranks of green and red leather binding, glinting off the gilt lettering and the brass book-ends. The circular rents table in the centre of the room still bore the scatter of manuscripts, ink and parchment that she had been working on, but in the centre there was something she had not seen before. A tattered notebook, bound in white vellum, stained and foxed with age.

"I've no idea how old it is, or where it came from," Draco continued, "But I think you'll like it."

She wasn't listening. She reached out to pick the book up. It was very old. Probably as old as the house, judging by the style of binding and the rubbed edges. There was no title, and she opened it to the first page which bore a hand-written inscription.

Notes On Ye Celebration Of Ye Twelve Daies of Chriftmas

A religious text, she wondered, or a Tudor household receipt book? The fact that it had been kept with the Christmas decorations suggested that it was some sort of seasonal diary.

She turned the page. The illustration that met her eyes was religious only in the sense that one of the wizards depicted was clearly worshiping the other, and domestic only in the depiction of a plate of roast partridge and a pear tart that was not being consumed in the traditional manner.

"On ye firft daie of Chriftmas my true loue buggered mee," she read.

Draco grinned. "I thought you'd like it," he said. "It's a sort of instruction manual. With some very nifty spells. I think you'd find the Fifth Day interesting."

"Five gold rings?" she muttered, turning the pages. It did, indeed, illustrate five gilded rings, four encircling the extremities of the spread-eagled figure fastened to a wall, and the fifth around the genitalia of her approaching partner. "Oh."

"A novel use for Christmas decorations." Draco had his wand in his hand and gestured to the mantelpiece. The next thing that Hermione knew she was spread-eagled against the wall, soft red rope around her wrists, tethering her to the candle brackets in imitation of the illustration in the book which she had dropped during the spellmaking.

"In the light of your interest in stone walls," he said. "But we can start with something French, if you like, though not hens."

His mouth covered hers. She wriggled in delight and responded. This was what she loved about Draco, his selfishness. He took. And sometimes she just wanted to be taken. He pressed his erection against her, and she wriggled again, deliberately stimulating, using his own gasp of response to claim his tongue with hers.

His hands crept between them, opening his robe to bare himself to her, and then hitching up her skirt to explore her warm, eager cunt.

A second kiss robbed her of breath, the third of reason. She growled in response, reaching up with her bound hands to grasp the sconces and using that leverage to clasp her legs around his thighs, pulling him closer. He responded by using his free hand to curl around and support her buttocks, and the fingers between her legs ceased their stimulation of her clit to spread her labia ready for him.

She came precisely as he entered her, shuttering around his cock, pulsing to draw him in, all her being centered on that indescribable feeling of pleasure at her core.

"Christmas!" she panted. "Yes!"

He didn't hear her, or, if he did, was incapable of responding other than with the thrust of his sex and the spill of his seed.

~o0o~

Afterwards, quite a long time afterwards, relaxing together on the chesterfield and contemplating the scattered mess they had made of the rents table, to which they had repaired when the possibilities of the wall had been exhausted, Hermione retrieved the book from the floor and leafed through it.

"Did you realise," she said, "that each of these positions is accompanied by an enhancement spell linked to the relevant day of Christmas?"

Draco contemplated the ceiling, he was far too spent to even turn his head. "No," he said. "But I look forward to seeing what the author thought could possibly improve on that. It's going to be an awesome Christmas!"

The End