I'm not a girl, I'm a storm with skin

AU; in which Dramione celebrates Draco’s birthday

"Draco! Please calm down. It is not my fault that Harry has called me in for an emergency mission! I’m an auror. Things come up! Yes, I know it is your 32nd birthday. Yes, you do only turn 32 once. Listen, Draco, I have to run. Happy birthday, darling. Don’t be angry, please.

Draco hung up on her after that last pleading statement. He was being his usual stubborn self, one of the few aspects that hadn’t changed in him in his days since Hogwarts. He was convinced that the bitterly unmarried Ron Weasley had orchestrated the entire mission to make Hermione miss Draco’s birthday. The nerve of the man. Who knew the top healer at St. Mungo’s could be so immature?

Draco was right about one thing though, the mission was orchestrated. But it wasn’t by Ron. No, Draco Malfoy’s own wife had pulled one over on him. Hermione smiled in the rearview mirror of her car, proud of herself. She was acting like a devious little Slytherin.

She arrived home twenty minutes prior to Draco’s never-faltering arrival time and got inside the cake she had conjured up with magic. She was wearing a skimpy little outfit that Ginny had helped her pick out. Looking down, Hermione laughed at how out of character she looked.

Draco practically stalked into the flat, blinded by anger. He went straight to the kitchen, as he always did, and found the cake with confused interest. Hermione counted to three, then jumped out of the cake and screamed “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Draco’s reaction could not have been better.

The tall and athletic blonde crumpled to the floor in pure terror. The flowers Hermione had sent to his office flew out of his hands and now covered his head like a decorative wreath. His face was twisted in pain and happiness. Hermione giggled.

"Why did you lie to me?" Draco asked, panting.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Hermione smiled. “It’s a muggle thing.”
“Well if you want me to make it to 33, that should be the last surprise,” he smiled.

He walked over to the cake and tasted some icing with his finger.
"This looks bloody delicious, Hermione."
She blushed, “Thanks dear, but I just used magic.”

"I wasn’t talking about the cake," Draco smirked, "I was talking about my wife." and he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.

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