- ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟғᴏʏ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
Draco lifts his head up, shooting a glance towards his left to the witch staring shamelessly at him, his pale eyes settling on her, grunting irritably,
"Do you ever mind your own business?"
Oonagh pondered silently, tuc...
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Fifteen years later...
"𝕴 don't see why we have to go"
Oonagh's lips twitch, placing this morning's colourful collection of hot chocolate mugs into the sink as she replies airily,
"Because we were invited and should show our faces. It'll be nice"
She spins around, forced to bite down on her index knuckle to prevent herself from laughing heartily at the deep scowl across her husband's face. Once Mr Grumpiest of all the Grumps, always Mr Grumpiest of all the Grumps. It's a short lived thing, however, something else entirely starting to gleam in the silver of his eyes, something that has Oonagh in the embarrassing state of a boy crazed teenage girl. Heart racing and stomach in frenzied flutters.
Draco worms himself up close and personal, the most sinful of smirks tugging at his mouth. His mouth that's then hovering over the supple skin of her pulse, brushing over far too lightly for Oonagh's liking. Her hands fit to his hips, two fingers curling around the belt loops of his jeans to haul him closer. To press their bodies flush together.
"I can think of something else that'll be nice, Oons. Far nicer, incomparable really" Draco mumbles against her neck, ensuring that she feels every deep vibration.
Illegal. That should be illegal, Oonagh determines quickly, unable to stop the flutter of her eyelids and the parting of her petal pink lips. Her head tilts for him on instinct, chocolate waves falling along with it, opening up more space for the devastatingly sexy kisses he has to offer. A soft sigh escapes her, eliciting a quiet, rather smug chuckle from Draco, knowing exactly what he's doing. Knowing exactly that this little taster will make her thoroughly consider the options he puts forward.
"We could ship the kids off to Grammy's or my mother's, spend some time alone, just us"
Tempting. Oh, very tempting, so much so that when he impishly traces his skilful tongue over her sweetest spot, Oonagh nearly blurts there and then that she needs a quill and some parchment to owl her apologies to the Potter's for not attending their annual summer get-together because they already have plans. Fun plans, nice plans. Plans that are making her hot and needy.
But then, they're hearing the soft taps of tiny feet nearing their quirky kitchen and Draco's pulling away, hurriedly adjusting himself just in time. Just in time for young Croia Malfoy, barely age three, entering the room, chin held high to keep the dress-up princess tiara on her little head steady. Simultaneously, Draco and Oonagh lean forwards, eyes narrowing to confirm their suspicions.
"On second thoughts, perhaps not my mother's" Draco mutters, scratching his chiselled jaw almost nervously.
Oonagh hums in agreement, stepping out from Draco's cornering and towards their toddler, piping up gently,
