Happy Birthday, Draco

Rating : (MA)
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A Birthday Surprise for Draco

Okay, so this was the truth, and Draco didn’t care if anyone believed it or not, but he had never once had a surprise birthday party. It was hard to believe that a man would go 29 years without a surprise party, and though Draco had no motive to lie and no moral code against such a lie, when he told his coworker, Harry Potter, that he had never had a surprise party, it was the truth, and he wanted to keep it that way. In fact, he had never had a birthday that was good enough to remember.

He didn’t like birthdays anyway. Why celebrate being born? What was so great about it? And it wasn’t like the person had anything to do with it. It was the fault or the accomplishment (depending upon who you were) of the person’s egg and sperm donor. Point blank, it made no sense to give a person presents for something as stupid as turning a year older.

Who wanted to turn older, anyway?

Not Draco. He hated the fact that his 30’s were upon him. Merlin, he was so old. He remembered when he was young; he thought anyone over 29 was useless as a piece of shite. Useless. Now he was that piece of shite. And, dammit, someone put a birthday card on his fucking desk, after he specifically told everyone NOT to do something as stupid and reckless as that.

He looked at the card. It said ‘Draco Malfoy’ in a neat script across the front. It was a plain white envelope. He pitched it in the bin. He put his feet up on his desk, shut and locked the door to his office with his wand, and pouted for a few moments, before he leaned down and picked the card back out of the trash.

He hated curiosity, but it got the better of him. He had to see at least who the card was from, so he could hex the person’s arse the next time he saw them. He thought he made it clear to everyone he didn’t want any acknowledgment. However, he really did, and he hated that just as much as he hated birthdays.

He slipped his finger under the flap of the envelope and saw a tasteful card, heavy cardstock, a nice black and white photo of a single white flower; he didn’t even know what type of flower, but it was simple and pretty. He opened the card and instead of some silly sentimental pre-printed garbage that rhymed, or some silly joke about his age, there was a simple message. “Thinking of you on this day. I hope you remember it fondly.” That was it. It was written in the same neat script as his name on the front of the card, but there was no signature underneath. He didn’t recognize the handwriting. The card didn’t mention his actual birthday. Just a little, ‘thinking of you.’ Well, hell, who was thinking of him? It would have been plain common courtesy to at least sign a name, for Merlin’s sake. There was only one person he even cared about getting a card from, but she promised not to give him one and she was a person of her word.

He balled the card back up and chucked it at his door. He pushed back his chair, stormed to his door, told his assistant he was leaving for the day and started down the hall. He turned back around, went back to his office, picked up the card, and smoothed out all the wrinkles. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he wanted to keep it. He knew it wasn’t from his mother or one of his friends, so he had a goal, a better goal than celebrating his birthday. If it was the last thing he did today, he was going to find out who sent him this card.

He went to his assistant’s desk and said, “There was a card on my desk. Do you know who it was from or who put it there?” He knew it probably wouldn’t be as simple as this, but a man could try.

“I don’t know. What type of card?” the woman asked with a smile. Damn her. She knew it was his birthday. He knew she knew because she started down the hall today with thirty balloons in her hands, fifteen in one, and fifteen in the other, and before she reached his office with them, he shot a spell at her that burst each and every one.

“Never mind,” Draco said. He would figure this out on his own. He was an Auror, he was smart, and he was almost 30 years old for goodness sakes.

Thirty. He was almost thirty years old. Technically, most people considered themselves a year older on their actual birthdays, but Draco wasn’t born until 7:36 pm, so he would not consider himself 30 until then.

He got in the lifts to leave and he was surprised that he was by himself. He looked at the card again, and was still looking at it when the bell on the lift clanged, denoting someone entering. He didn’t even look up. He knew someone walked in, and stood beside him, but he was still looking at the card. “Thinking of you?” the person next to him said, as she leaned over and looked at the writing on the inside.

He looked up quickly. Hermione Granger. He folded the card back up and stuffed it in his pocket. Seeing Hermione made him remember her birthday. Yes, that was a nice memory.

“Hello there, Hermione,” Draco said. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here, Draco,” she said, leaning against the back of the lifts.

“I must have forgotten,” he said with a smirk. “Did you give me this card after you promised me that you wouldn’t?”

“What do you take me for, a liar?” she said. “I told you I would not give you a birthday card, because I remember how hard 30 was for me. You should remember how hard it was, too,” she said.

He smiled. “I remember something being hard on your birthday,” he said with a slight smile. Oh yes, he remembered her birthday. He knocked his elbow into hers and said, “It was a nice birthday, after all though, you have to admit.”

“It was adequate,” she said, looking straight ahead.

He stood right in front of her, cocked his head to the side, and said, “Adequate my arse! You had a fucking wonderful birthday, Granger, thanks to me.”

“How do you know your 30th won’t be just as wonderful, thanks to me?” she asked.

She had a point, she really did, and he knew he was probably overreacting, but she didn’t understand. It wasn’t her turning 30 this time, it was HIM! That was a bigger deal, really it was.

The doors opened and she said, “This is my floor, Draco.” She walked past him and he followed. She walked in her office and he was hot on her heels. He sat down at her desk, so she was forced to sit in the chair on the side. He started to open all her drawers.

“What are you looking for, a brain?” she asked. She laughed and snorted. He gave her a dirty look.

“I'm looking for evidence, my dear, Granger,” he said.

“Evidence of what, that you have a brain?” she inquired, still smiling.

“Okay, enough ‘stupid’ jokes, I get it, you think I’m stupid,” he said. “But even stupid people have feelings. I need to search for evidence that you sent me this card, after you promised me that you wouldn’t.”

“If you find said evidence, what do you intend to do with it?” she asked.

“Oh ho, wouldn’t you like to know,” he said. He found a black Muggle pen and held it up. “This is a Muggle pen!”

“I am so sorry I called you stupid earlier, you are very smart. Your skills at deduction are wonderful. What was your first hint, the fact that it has ink in it, or the fact that it says, 'Medium Point Ballpoint Pen’, on the side?” She stood up and took the pen from him. She sat on the edge of her desk.

He took the card back out of his pocket and said, “This was clearly written with a Muggle pen. Not many people use those things around here. Hence, you sent the card,” he said with a cocky expression. He smiled and leaned back in the chair.

She slipped off a shoe, and placed her foot between his legs, on the chair, but dangerous close to his most prized possession. She raised one eyebrow and said, “That doesn’t sound like too damning of evidence to me. You need more proof.”

“You think I can’t prove it, don’t you? Well, I shall, and then, my dear little Muggle born girlfriend, you will owe me two hours of total sexual servitude, yes in deed. That was our bargain this morning. If you got me a birthday card, a balloon, a cake, a candle, or sang me a song, you would lose the bet. If you gave me a party, or knew of a party, you lose the bet. If you even told one person my age, YOU LOSE! Those were the terms of our agreement. I put them in writing. Shall I show it to you?” He finally stopped talking, and noticed that she moved her foot from between his legs to the arm of her chair. She put her other foot on the other side. She looked like the cat that swallowed the canary, and he was the canary.

“Granger, are you trying to seduce me?” he asked, with a small smile.

“Do I have to?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said.

“Maybe later,” she said. “If you win the bet, but I rather think you will be serving time with me, instead of visa versa.” She moved from the desk, and sat across his lap. “You see, Draco, even if you prove that card was from me, nowhere on the card did it wish you a happy birthday, or acknowledge your birthday. I mean, I only saw it for a quick second, but I didn’t see any flowers, or balloons, or monkeys holding bananas on the card, and there weren’t any silly sentiments, or jokes about being over the hill.”

“Stupid Potter and his stupid Monkey card with the stupid over the hill saying,” Draco said, remembering the card that Potter gave him that morning. He stood up, in a worse mood than he was in earlier, and he took the card out of his pocket again, and looked at it closely. It was a nice card, after all.

He looked at her and said, “Just tell me, did you send this?”

“I might have, but that’s for the big bad Auror to prove,” she said. “Now, it might be your birthday, and you might get to laze about all day, but I have real work to do. If you aren’t going back to your office, then go back to the flat. I’ll see you later.”

“There better not be a surprise party for me back at the flat!” he said.

“It’s 10:30 in the morning,” she said, “Rest assured there’s no surprised party for you. On my 30th, I went out and enjoyed myself. I had a nice long walk, a nice nap, a bubble bath, then I went out and bought a nice new outfit, and I took myself out for dinner. Why don’t you go do something like that, and enjoy yourself, instead of pouting around here, pitching a fit?”

“Says the old lady,” he spat. “If I recall, you also had mind blowing sex on your thirtieth birthday with a good looking younger man, do you mind if I copy that part of your day?” She had mind blowing sex with him that day.

“No, by all means, if you find a good looking younger man, go for it,” she laughed.

He gave her a scowl and walked to her office door, threw it opened, walked out, and slammed it shut, hearing the sounds of her laughter as he stormed down the hall.

Old people like her were insensitive to young people like him! By hook or by crook, he was going to find out if she sent that card, and if she did, she was paying up big time! He knew she sent that card, now he just had to prove it. “Well, my dear, get ready for two hours of total sexual servitude,” he said aloud as the lift doors opened.

“Not today, Malfoy, but maybe tomorrow,” Harry Potter said with a laugh, as he stood in the lifts.

“Go to hell, Potter!” Draco said. He turned around and decided to take the stairs.


“Ah,” he sighed. Hermione didn’t even look up from her magazine. “AH!” he sighed even louder. She turned a page. “I said, fucking AH!” he said.

“Did you say something?” she asked.

“Apparently, not,” he said with a frown.

He got up from the couch and went to the kitchen. Apparently, he was going to have to cook something for his own birthday dinner. He would even apparently, have to make his own cake! 7:36 pm was only 12 minutes away, and no one had yet wished him a ‘Happy Birthday’. He was almost thirty years old and no one gave a damn! His parents usually always sent him an owl with sweets, a card, and tons of money. Blaise usually offered to take him out to the bar. Pansy and Theo may still be technically ‘newlyweds’, but would it kill them to open the Floo and pop their heads through and wish him some best wishes for his stupid birthday?

No one loved him. If they really loved him, they would have known that he didn’t mean he didn’t want a birthday party. They would have known that he DID want presents, he DID want a cake, and he did want silly cards with silly sayings, even if they were of a monkey holding a banana.

He walked back to the doorway, and watched the woman he loved, the woman he had loved for two years, and had been dating for ten months (yes, he was aware the math was off, but that was the truth) and he wondered how she could be so blind. She really didn’t know him at all, did she? If she did, she would have had a birthday party for him, or at least a cupcake with a candle…anything. He took his one and only card out of his pocket, and with his wand, he stuck it on the icebox door. He sighed again, but this time, it was a real sigh.

He went to the front door, opened it, and said, “I’m going out for a while.”

She looked up and said, “Well, be back soon.”

He was hopeful. He said, “Why? Planning something are you?”

“No, it’s just that you have to be back by at least ten, so you can give me my two hours of sexual servitude before the day is over,” she said. She looked back down at her magazine.

“Is that what this is all about?” he asked, slamming the front door, and heading back into the living room. “You are ignoring my birthday to win a fucking bet? Don’t my feelings mean anything to you? Don’t you care? You claim to love me, but it’s apparent you only love yourself!”

She was having fun today, pretending to ignore his birthday, and she thought his little pouting act was a bit charming, but at that moment, she was angry. He hurt her feelings, and she was about to tell him so. “You asked that no one pay any attention to your birthday today, which is what this is about. I tried to honour your wishes. Now, I’m sorry I did, because it’s apparent that you’re bi-polar and you don’t know what the hell you want. When you figure it out, let me know.” She stood up and threw her magazine on the floor. She said, “Oh, and just so you know that I don’t give two hoots about the stupid bet, happy effing birthday, Draco! There, you win!” She pushed him out of the way, rather hard, and went out the front door, slamming it loudly behind her.

‘Well that was uncalled for’, he thought. At least he was finally wished a ‘Happy Birthday’. He kicked a chair, and threw a vase across the room, where it shattered in a million pieces. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was 7:36 on the nose. He said, “Happy birthday, you stupid idiot,” to himself. He went to the kitchen to get something to eat. He looked at the card on the refrigerator and froze in shock.

The plain, black and white card, with the picture of a single flower, changed to an elaborate birthday card, with embossed letters, on white linen cardstock, and calligraphy style writing. The simple picture from the front changed to a very ornately written, “Happy Birthday, Draco.” He took the card off the door and opened it. Inside, it said, “Happy Birthday my love. I hope all your birthday wishes come true. Mine did, when you walked into that restaurant back in September. Now, let me make yours come true, a single birthday sentiment, and one single birthday present. The sentiment is, “I love you,” and the present will be born approximately five months from today. I hope you like it, because it can’t be returned.”

OH SHITE! Hermione was pregnant! Damn, that was a nice present, wasn’t it? He took the card and started in the other room, which was now filled with balloons, presents, ribbons, crepe paper, flowers, and all their friends and family. Everyone yelled, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DRACO!”

He was speechless. He smiled, shook some hands, and started through the crowd, looking for one person and one person only - Hermione. Finally, he saw her, as he was shaking his father’s hand. He held up the card and smiled. She smiled back. He nodded. She nodded back, and put her hand on her stomach.

Wow, a baby.

He was going to be an ‘old’ father.

After everyone left, and he got his mandatory birthday wishes, salutations, cards, presents (and money from the folks), he sat on the couch and sighed again, but this time, it wasn’t a contrived or forced sigh. It was a genuine, ‘wow what a day and I’m going to be a father’, sigh.

She walked up to him and looked down at him on the couch. “Happy Birthday, Draco.”

“Sorry about earlier,” he said.

“Oh no, don’t be, it all went according to my plan. I was actually a bit worried, because I thought you would have thrown your hissy-fit much earlier in the evening. I was beginning to worry that I would have to pick the fight with you. I knew everyone was waiting outside, so you had me a bit worried when you started toward the door.” She climbed on his lap.

“I just thought of something,” he said.

She patted his head and said, “Well, take it easy, too much thinking at your age might cause an aneurysm.”

“You know, I’ll let that one slide, because no matter what, I always have the satisfaction of knowing that you’re older than I am. When I turn 40, you will have turned 40 first. When fifty comes and goes, it will have ‘came and went’ for you first. When 60 knocks on my door, I will say, ‘see you later, 60 year old wife, I’m going out tonight with a younger woman’, so your old jokes roll right off my back,” he said.

She kissed his cheek and said, “You better thank your lucky stars that I’m older, because statistics show that men die earlier than women.” He frowned. She smiled and said, “Now, you were saying?”

“Oh, yes, I was saying, that I just thought of something. You’re having a little Malfoy, my heir, the fruit of my looms,” he said.

She laughed hard and said, “The saying is ‘the fruit of your loins’!” She laughed so hard she started to wheeze.

“Do you want to hear what my thoughts are or do you just want to just laugh at me all night long?” he asked.

“Continue,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Fine, I was saying, since that kid in your stomach is apparently mine, at least until the paternity test shows otherwise, I should probably marry you or something,” he said.

“Is that a proposal, because it wasn’t very romantic, if it was,” she complained.

“It’s the best I can do, I’m old now. My mind is mush,” he said. He looked at the clock. It was after midnight. “Looks as if you’re lucky, Granger. The day has come and now gone, and even though I won the bet, there’s no time left for you to give me two hours of sexual servitude. So sad, really, because I was looking forward to it, too.”

“I could agree to an hour, perhaps,” she said. “A bit belated, since it’s officially after your birthday now.”

“Why, Miss Granger, I think that would be a wonderful belated present.”

She stood up and took his hand and led him to the bedroom. He smiled the whole way there. Draco liked sex, but he loved sex with her. He loved everything about her. He even liked her. He wanted her so much that he thought he would die if he didn’t have her within the next five minutes.

“I want to kiss you,” he said.

“I’m right here,” she said.

He liked kissing her, too. He loved her mouth. He loved to ravish that little mouth, and the things it could do to him in return made him blush sometimes. He pushed her up against the wall, and parted her legs with his knee. His fingers skimmed the hem of her skirt, and lifted it deftly, and found the waiting heat he so wantonly sought. His fingers brushed the outside of the silky material of her knickers, and then pushed aside the material to find her clitoris. Her head fell back and she clenched his shoulders.

“Happy Birthday to me,” he said. “Shall we do this right here, or would you like to take this to the bed?”

“I’m fine right here,” she said. He removed his hand from her, and took off his clothes. She took off hers. They stood, totally naked, and he really looked at her.

“Are you sure that you’re preggers? You don’t look any different. Aren’t your breasts suppose to get bigger, and your tummy rounder?” he asked in all seriousness.

She just smiled and said, “Do you want to see the test results. I assure you, I am pregnant.”

“No, I believe you, and I know how you have never flunked a test in your life, so I know you wouldn’t start with a pregnancy test,” he joked. He leaned over, put his arms around her, and licked the outside of her mouth. “You taste better than the double chocolate rum birthday cake that was at my party.”

His mouth went to hers, and his tongue sought out her tongue and twined around it, twirling and swirling and he grew so hard he didn’t know if he could last, and all they had done was kiss! The tips of her breasts were already hard points, and were pressed up against his chest. He started to walk her toward the bed. He palmed a breast with his right hand, and his mouth dipped to the other. He licked it as if it was a melting ice cream cone, and he was a fat kid at a circus. Her hands went to his hair and she moaned.

Her hands went from his hair, down his back, and then around to his hard length and stroked it up and down, pulling and tugging and causing all sorts of turmoil. His mouth went back to her mouth, and he practically devoured her. His hand went back to her passion, and he slid his fingers along the outer lips, before testing the waters inside. He sunk to his knees, and with his hands firmly on her backside, he began to worship the woman he loved with every part of his mouth and tongue, making her wet and more than willing.

Sensing that she would no longer be able to stand if he kept it up, he pushed her to the bed, and she fell over gracefully. His mouth traveled up to her stomach, around her breast, to her neck, where he nibbled and feasted, while two of his fingers entered her again. His two fingers pumped inside her as his thumb circled her clit. With a voice that hardly sounded like her own, she said, “This is supposed to be your birthday present.”

“You are my birthday present,” he said back.

“Wait, Draco, oh goodness, wait,” she said frantically. She was about to come, and she wanted him inside her before she came.

“What do you want, I’ll do it,” he said, kissing her ear.

“I want you inside me. Every part of you. I want your mouth and fingers inside me, and I want your erection inside me, and I want your erection inside my mouth,” she said.

He thought, ‘really, this is a happy birthday!’

“I think that could be arranged,” he said. He moved to his back, and she propped herself up on her side. She stroked down his stomach, feathery light touches, and then she put her hand on his hard length, circling his shaft one finger at a time, until she had him firmly in her grasp with one hand, her other hand underneath, cupping him. She squeezed and started a slow rhythm, the friction of the back and forth causing his vision to blur.

“Oh, Hermione, that’s the best birthday present, ever!” he moaned. She slid her thumb across the tip and he said, “Talk about hurrying up, if you don’t do something in the next second, I am going to come like some adolescent schoolboy getting his first hand job!”

“Fine, it’s your birthday,” she said. She held him upright, and lifted her hips so she was on top of him, and drove herself down hard, until he was fully sheathed inside her. She was so tight, so wet, and so sweet; he knew he wouldn’t last long…this time, but they had all night. She rocked back and forth, and he placed his hands on her hips. Once they found the perfect simpatico rhythm, heat spread from him to her, and an explosion happened, sending them both spiraling out of control, and she screamed, and he cried, or he screamed and she cried (he wasn’t sure whose voice belong to who), he only knew that this was by far the best birthday he had ever had, and it might even be one that he would remember, and to think, it only took thirty years to have it.

The End!!

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