IATQO Weekly Drabble Challenge # 3
Title: Flying High
Author: BobotuberPus
Pairing: D/Hr
Rating: R
A/N: Response to Weekly Drabble Challenge #3-Element: Quidditch, Bonus Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Hermione’s grip on the hoop tightened as he thrust harder against her.
“Draco…” she moaned, loving the feeling of his hardness as he plunged into her over and over again. Hermione felt the cool air nip at her exposed breasts, even as Draco swirled his tongue around one of the rosy tips. This is heaven, she thought. Forgotten was the fact that she was 50 feet above the ground, balanced precariously on a broom, wantonly engaged in a carnal act with her husband of two weeks.
They had celebrated Draco’s appointment as the youngest school governor in a century at a reception at Hogwarts. During dinner, Hermione had teased her husband, whispering that his governor robes were not as sexy as his quidditch uniform and that she’d never have fantasies about him in those dour robes. He then set out to prove to her just how wrong she was. They made their excuses right after dessert but instead of Apparating him, he’d led her toward the Quidditch pitch. Before she could protest, he had summoned a broom from the unlocked shed, grabbed her by her waist, set her firmly on his lap, and flew them up to one end of the pitch.
She was furious, of course. He knew she hated flying, even if she was with him, and the spontaneity of it denied her time to mentally prepare herself. But her anger dissipated when he started to trail wet, needy kisses along her neck and one of his hands made its way under her skirt.
He had flown them next to the center hoop and she was grateful to have something to hold on to. As their lovemaking reached a fevered pitch, with her husband buried inside her, and her legs around his waist, Hermione also sent whisper of thanks to Elliot Smethwyk, wherever he was, for inventing the Cushioning Charm.
Seventeen years later
Draco beamed proudly as he watched his only daughter hold up the Snitch. Slytherin had won the match against Ravenclaw, 450 to 200. Margeaux Lucissa Malfoy led her team in a victory lap around the pitch, blowing a kiss to her proud parents as she flew by.
It was Alumni Weekend, and though the quidditch stand was filled with former Hogwarts students, there was an inodinate amount of attendees wearing green.
“Congratulations, Malfoy.” Draco turned to find old teammate Adrian Pucey clapping him on the shoulder. “You must be very proud. First female team captain. And it looks like the cup will be Slytherin’s again this year.”
“Indeed we are. And that’s four years and counting for the cup.” Draco squeezed his wife’s hand as his attention returned to the winning team and their captain who was the splitting image of her mother.
“Glad to see she inherited something from you, Malfoy, “ Pucey teased as he winked at Hermione. “I’ll see you two at the reception.” And he walked off.
Hermione turned to her husband. “Darling, before you get all puffed up about Malfoy quidditch talents and what not, might I remind you that this is fate?”
“Fate?”
“Have you forgotten how she was conceived?”
Author: BobotuberPus
Pairing: D/Hr
Rating: R
A/N: Response to Weekly Drabble Challenge #3-Element: Quidditch, Bonus Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Hermione’s grip on the hoop tightened as he thrust harder against her.
“Draco…” she moaned, loving the feeling of his hardness as he plunged into her over and over again. Hermione felt the cool air nip at her exposed breasts, even as Draco swirled his tongue around one of the rosy tips. This is heaven, she thought. Forgotten was the fact that she was 50 feet above the ground, balanced precariously on a broom, wantonly engaged in a carnal act with her husband of two weeks.
They had celebrated Draco’s appointment as the youngest school governor in a century at a reception at Hogwarts. During dinner, Hermione had teased her husband, whispering that his governor robes were not as sexy as his quidditch uniform and that she’d never have fantasies about him in those dour robes. He then set out to prove to her just how wrong she was. They made their excuses right after dessert but instead of Apparating him, he’d led her toward the Quidditch pitch. Before she could protest, he had summoned a broom from the unlocked shed, grabbed her by her waist, set her firmly on his lap, and flew them up to one end of the pitch.
She was furious, of course. He knew she hated flying, even if she was with him, and the spontaneity of it denied her time to mentally prepare herself. But her anger dissipated when he started to trail wet, needy kisses along her neck and one of his hands made its way under her skirt.
He had flown them next to the center hoop and she was grateful to have something to hold on to. As their lovemaking reached a fevered pitch, with her husband buried inside her, and her legs around his waist, Hermione also sent whisper of thanks to Elliot Smethwyk, wherever he was, for inventing the Cushioning Charm.
Seventeen years later
Draco beamed proudly as he watched his only daughter hold up the Snitch. Slytherin had won the match against Ravenclaw, 450 to 200. Margeaux Lucissa Malfoy led her team in a victory lap around the pitch, blowing a kiss to her proud parents as she flew by.
It was Alumni Weekend, and though the quidditch stand was filled with former Hogwarts students, there was an inodinate amount of attendees wearing green.
“Congratulations, Malfoy.” Draco turned to find old teammate Adrian Pucey clapping him on the shoulder. “You must be very proud. First female team captain. And it looks like the cup will be Slytherin’s again this year.”
“Indeed we are. And that’s four years and counting for the cup.” Draco squeezed his wife’s hand as his attention returned to the winning team and their captain who was the splitting image of her mother.
“Glad to see she inherited something from you, Malfoy, “ Pucey teased as he winked at Hermione. “I’ll see you two at the reception.” And he walked off.
Hermione turned to her husband. “Darling, before you get all puffed up about Malfoy quidditch talents and what not, might I remind you that this is fate?”
“Fate?”
“Have you forgotten how she was conceived?”