Inferno | Draco Malfoy

110 | The Virtuous Liasion

February
2002.

It has already been half a year since I tied the knot with Draco Malfoy, and indeed, time has flown by remarkably. It feels as though it was merely yesterday that we pledged our commitment to one another, surrounded by friends and family, with the sun shining down on us and the gentle breeze carrying the scent of pretty flowers. The memory of that day remains forever vivid in my mind, filled with laughter, joy, and comfort. I can still hear the echoes of our vows, the way his voice trembled slightly with emotion as he spoke words that would bind our lives together, and the way my heart swelled with love and hope.

God, I love him; he's the husband of my dreams, a perfect blend of charm, wit, and a touch of mischief that keeps me on my toes. He possesses an innate ability to create the most perfect moments, whether it involves a romantic dinner illuminated by candlelight, an impromptu picnic where we observe the shifting skies, a quiet evening spent curled up on the couch engrossed in literature, a leisurely Sunday morning spent in bed, or moments filled with uncontrollable laughter, especially during our ice cream races where we compete to consume ice cream the quickest without succumbing to brain freeze, our expressions reflecting concentration, and in each instance, affection is present.

Yet I must confess, with full confidence, that we have been having the nastiest, most obscene, steamy sex, to such an extent that our stories could make a Victorian faint dead away! Seriously, our escapades are so scandalous that they would make even the most prim and proper blush!

From playful teasing to hours of rounds and positions that would put a Quidditch player to shame, every moment spent together is an exhilarating adventure. We've explored new heights of intimacy, pushing limits and discovering each other in ways I never thought possible, even upside down!

Our activities have transpired at all hours, whether the sun is shining or the moon is doing its nightly dance, driven by an unquenchable passion for one another that appears to transcend and mock the very laws of human nature.

Regardless of our professional commitments, we sometimes find ourselves departing early, often stumbling into our home in a flurry, tripping over our own feet as we fumble with buttons and zippers. In our haste to shed the barriers that separate us, we find ourselves pressed against one another in a fervent embrace, grinding against each other like we're trying to start a fire.

What can I say? The sex is just simply off the charts.

It's a mayhem of spontaneity and desire, where every kiss feels like a firework and every touch sets off a chain reaction that leaves us both breathless. We've turned our manor into a circus of passion, where the furniture doubles as our stage for daring acts, and the walls echo with the sounds of giggling and gasps of delight...

Or perhaps that's just the moving portraits that we always have to drape with fabric to keep them from judging and seeing our wild antics. Sometimes, we even have to silence them to avoid hearing their unsolicited commentary on our rather "crudely creative" endeavours.

"We ought to visit The Vault of Wits, it is conveniently located just across the street," Draco remarks, effectively pulling me from my moment of contemplation, as he gestures towards the window. "You did mention that you want the sequel to 'The Sordid Liaison.'"

Currently, we find ourselves in Piccadilly in London, seated in a local Muggle café. This was obviously not Draco's preferred choice, given the proximity of Diagon Alley; nonetheless, he acquiesced after I was lured by the café's pain au chocolat and voiced my reluctance to face the potential photographers in Diagon Alley.

Yet, the rationale for our presence in Piccadilly stems from our primary purpose to meet Pansy and Theo, although we have arrived an hour or two early, adhering to the principle that it is always better to be early than tardy.