Spring always made Ginny very glad indeed that she lived in the country.
Oh, she liked the other seasons too: the still winter, the lush summer, the vibrant autumn. But Ginny couldn't bear a city spring. She needed to have her hands in the earth as soon as possible, getting her garden growing. She'd inherited the musky greenhouse full of exotic flowers, the grape arbor that arched over Draco's favorite bench, and Narcissa's beloved roses that she'd managed to keep thriving almost in spite of herself. The vegetable patch was her own addition, now in its second season; there hadn't been much cause for home-grown produce at the Manor where well-bred wizards felt only the most delicate of flowers were worth getting one's hands dirty. Well, the Malfoy line could do with a bit of Weasley practicality. Making the garden her own was the step that finally made her believe that the Manor was her home, too.
The wet air was getting warmer from the morning sun. Good thing, as the ground was still chilly even through her thick gardening gloves and sturdy clogs. She was turning the ground for the first time since the end of winter, pushing in the shovel with one foot. She'd put some compost in the soil today, their own from the bin outside the kitchen door. The hardiest of the seedlings she'd started in the greenhouse would be ready for planting in about a week, so the patch needed to be ready by then, too.
She had finished turning the rows and was just starting to think about getting some more water, or perhaps even lunch, when she noticed a shadow on the ground, and looked up. "Hello," she said.
"Brought you some lunch," Draco said, indicating the small hamper in his hand.
"Thank you," she said, and followed him to a grassy spot nearby. He unfolded a blanket and then unpacked some meat and pumpkin pasties and bottles of lemonade. "Ooh, lovely," she said, slipping off her clogs and gloves and sitting down. Of course the blanket was cushioned and heated; heaven forfend Draco sit on the cold hard ground if he could avoid it.
"I thought so," he said, grinning, and she rolled her eyes in response. "You were up with the sun," he said, sitting down on the opposite corner of the blanket and laying his legs next to hers.
She shrugged. "You worked late this week," she said, "and I wanted to let you sleep. What did you get up to this morning?"
"Oh, just looked over the fishing tackle," he said. "Poked about in the shed. Know what I found?"
"Not until you tell me," she replied.
"An old croquet set. At least, I don't remember ever seeing it before. Lovely wooden balls and steel hoops. Some very ornate carving in the mallets."
"Sounds pretty," she said. "We need to set that up immediately, you realize. This very afternoon even."
"Why?" he asked.
"So we can master the game before Harry and Hermione's visit next weekend."
He lifted his eyebrows. "Your competitive streak comes out at the oddest times," he said. "I fear for our unborn children."
"Nonsense," she replied. "There'll be plenty of share and share alike."
"We'll see," he said. "Anyway, I'll need to find a book on the subject, as I don't know how to set it up, nor yet how to play."
"I'm sure there's one in the library." She wadded the wrapper in her hand. "There's more pumpkin, isn't there?" she asked, pulling up onto her hands and knees to look into the hamper. Then she felt her husband's hands on her behind. "Draco?"
"It's your arse in these jeans," he said, and his voice sounded a little thick. "I just—"
She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. "What do you want?" she asked.
"You," he replied.
She smiled, slowly. "All right," she said.
She felt him running his fingers along her sides to where her hips widened, curving suddenly out of her narrow waist. He undid her jeans, quickly pulling them down to her knees, and she lifted her legs so he could remove them entirely. She wasn't wearing much for knickers, some little cotton things, and he pushed them out of the way, slipping his fingers into her. "Geez, Ginny."
"What did you expect?" she asked. "You came home late yesterday, I got up early this morning."
"Are you saying you require sex once a day?"
"No, just, don't be surprised at what I'm like when I don't get it," she replied, grinning.
"Well," he said, sitting up to unfasten his trousers, "never mind the preliminaries then."
"Thought you'd come around to that," she said, slipping off her knickers and widening her stance. Once she'd settled back down on her hands and knees, she felt a hand on her hip as he guided his cock between the soft, wet folds of her skin. Ginny arched her back, tipping her arse up to give Draco a better angle into her quim. Lovely thing to have a husband who wasn't phased at all by her appetites; it was a good thing they'd found each other at a young age or who knew what sort of havoc they each would have wrought.
His hands were back in their place just above her hips, pulling her toward him as he thrust into her. She could smell the freshly turned earth and hear the birds flitted about in the trees above them, twittering. It was all so bucolic, which shouldn't have felt right but did, as though however much they clothed themselves in urbane sophistication they were both really just country folk in the end. Animals rutting in the forest, or something like that. He leaned over and kissed the back of her pale neck, nuzzling her hair out of the way so he could lick and suck her freckled skin. She moaned, dropping her head forward to give him better access.
The fucking was fantastic: soft and slow and warm and loving and in their very own garden, which moved Ginny in a way she could scarcely understand. Draco started thrusting in a more circular way, knowing that sometimes Ginny could come from that if he was penetrating her from behind. When he found it she made a strangled sort of cry and he rolled his hips, catching it again and again, and her torso writhed as she moaned encouragement and tried to keep her arms from collapsing. All too soon she was coming; Draco thrust hard and straight into her and they strained against each other, riding it out until they were breathless.
Draco pulled out and backed away, letting Ginny collapse onto the blanket. She turned around under him and watched him tuck himself back into his trousers. "I thought it was supposed to be the lady of the manor who'd have it off with the gardener," she said, grinning.
He scowled just slightly, then shrugged. "I've always been drawn to your earthiness," he said. "Besides, you have such nice muscular arms."
She stuck out her tongue. "You can't rile me up now; we just had sex in my garden."
"Our garden," Draco said, nestling himself between her legs.
"Our garden," she said. "Our house."
"Our home," he said and kissed her. Pulling back, he saw her brows furrow. "What is it?"
"Still hungry," she replied.
He sat up so she could poke about in the picnic hamper and then shook his head. "Is there a time when you don't eat?"
"No," she said, sitting down to eat the meat pasty she'd found and wondering vaguely if she should put her pants back on. "But you love me."
"You know," he said, looking around at the tilled earth, the house, and then back at Ginny, "I do."