Work Text:
January 2007
"Can I come through?" Ginny's voice was so excited Hermione didn't even dream about saying no to her despite the disastrous day she's had.
"Of course. Want some?" She held up the bottle of red she was just getting started on and got another glass when Ginny nodded with a beaming smile.
"What happened to you?" Ginny frowned, taking a good luck at her friend.
Hermione looked like she'd been through the wringer, her curls piled high up in a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes matching the ratty grey shorts and hoodie she was sporting. Though she would never be an obvious beauty like some of their classmates from Hogwarts, she had grown into her features over the past years and carried herself with a quiet confidence which Ginny knew many of Hermione’s colleagues at the Ministry found intimidating. Today she looked like all the fight had left her and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed for a week.
"Kingsley shot down my proposal. Six months of my life and he tells me there's no fucking budget," she hissed before sighing tiredly and rubbing her face to get herself centered. "Anyway, don't want to talk about it. Tell me what has you so chipper."
The 100 watt smile was back, nearly blinding her as Ginny held up her left hand to show off a gorgeous Ruby and diamond ring. "Had a proposal of my own today. Draco finally popped the question."
"Gods, Ginny!!!" She couldn't help but beam back and hugged her tightly before having another look at the beautifully set jewels. "Congratulations, I'm so happy for you! Tell me all about it," she picked up their glasses as they headed for the living room to catch up.
It was a relationship that shocked the Wizarding world. When Harry came out as gay after the war with Ginny’s support, the gossip mill unkindly suggested it was her fault to put him off witches. Ginny in her trademark fashion didn't pay them any attention whatsoever and decided to instead follow her dream to become a professional Quidditch player. It was how she met Draco who played for the Falmouth Falcons. It began as a casual agreement while they both lived a busy lifestyle. But a complicated injury meant Ginny had to stop flying and instead began building her career as a journalist for the sports section, allowing her more time to be properly courted by the blond.
Though many questioned the relationship, Hermione could see just how happy the two of them were. She was even happy to call Draco a friend these days as he had apologised for their schooldays a long time ago and the dinners she joined the couple for were never boring as they transferred their squabbling into arguments about potions and other topics they both didn't get to discuss regularly.
"...and then he took me to the family magical stone circle, tells me to find the draco constellation in the skies, and then I turned around and there he was, kneeling with the ring!"
"He's always been such a smooth git," Hermione snickered. "To be honest though that sounds pretty magical."
"Of course I said yes," she grinned.
"So why are you here and not celebrating with your fancy fiancé?"
Ginny shrugged. "We're going away for the weekend tomorrow. Draco wanted to have a drink with his father since we were at the Manor."
Hermione took a sip of her wine at the mention of the Manor and the resident Malfoy patriarch. "Lucius is supportive, I presume?" She asked.
"Welcomed me formally into the family, even kissed my cheeks. Honestly, he can be so formal but he was smiling at Draco proudly tonight. I think he's recovered from Narcissa's passing, and Draco is all the happier to have a stronger relationship with him," she offered with a pleased smile.
Hermione nodded and turned the conversation to the plans for the upcoming wedding and away from the imposing Lord of the Manor. It wasn't until Ginny headed back to the flat she shared with Draco that Hermione poured herself another glass and headed up to bed.
She was happy for Ginny and Draco, truly, she was. But moments like these always made that little insecure voice within her pipe up. Ginny and Draco were finally engaged. Harry was travelling the world with his husband, Charlie Weasley, whom he happily married just last month in Spain - their wedding photo sent with his last letter was hanging on her fridge. Neville and Susan were also engaged, and Luna had the twins last year, making Rolf an ecstatic dad. Hermione was proud to be a godmother to little Pandora Scamander, and was truly happy for all of her friends thriving. Even Ron was settled with Lavender, whom he returned to after a month of disastrous dating after the war. They had their third little one on the way, and he was content helping George in the shop these days.
Hermione was also content but in the quiet moments, she sometimes found herself feeling a bit restless. She was happy in work, working on restructuring the Ministry, researching legislation and writing policy that changed wizarding and creature lives for the better. Her parents were found and killed by stray Death Eaters after the war so she had little in the way of family, but she had her friends, her work, and a two-floors tall library in the house she bought and renovated last year. She needed for nothing, and she loved her job and freedom. So why did she dream of adventure and a bit of a thrill? Why did she return home from the occasional date without intention to arrange another, and came on her own fingers instead of falling apart in someone's arms?
She felt like life had lost its spark in the past couple of years, her days without salt or sweetness, as if she were just on autopilot. There was only one person who broke up the monotony of her existence these days, and she was about to see much more of him in the coming months as the Maid of Honor.
"What is it, Bitsy?" Lucius asked as the elf nervously popped into his office.
"Bitsy is sorry to bother Master. Miss Granger called to ask when it would be convenient to view the Manor grounds in preparation for Young Master Draco’s wedding."
Lucius regarded the small creature before him. "Is she awaiting your response in the floo?"
Bitsy nodded, her large ears flopping at the gesture. "Yes Master, she reassured Bitsy she is happy to wait for answer."
Lucius stood and followed Bitsy to the parlour where he spotted the open floo connection in the nearby fireplace. "Miss Granger?" He called into the faceless green flames and tried to hide his amusement as the woman on the other side of the connection clearly startled at his call and muttered a soft profanity followed by a thud. She likely dropped her book in surprise.
A moment later her face appeared in the flames, her wild curls pulled into a thick braid away from her heart-shaped face. "Mister Malfoy! I didn't mean to disturb you from your work."
"Nonsense, Miss Granger. I was just finishing for the day. You wished to visit the Manor to plan for the wedding of my son?" He enquired, cutting an elegant figure in his back slacks and grey shirt.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, Ginny wanted some help with the wedding planning and as she's off to do the reporting on the European league this weekend, I agreed to come for the initial survey of the Manor. With your permission of course," she added.
"You are welcome to stop by when convenient. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon? Unless Sunday is more convenient for you, I appreciate you may already have plans," he offered cordially.
Hermione blinked at him for a moment at the sudden invitation before finding her manners again. "I uhm, no plans this weekend. Would three o'clock tomorrow work for you?"
Lucius nodded. "By all means. Please do come through the floo, Bitsy will make sure to greet you if I am finishing a call."
"Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mister Malfoy," the young woman nodded and disappeared in the flames before he could respond.
If he didn't know better, he would have thought her nervous in his presence. Hermione Granger was still an enigma to him, and he sure did like to solve a mystery or a complex puzzle.
She stood up to him at the age of twelve in Flourish at Blotts, and was the cause of Draco’s moaning about being bested years, which was both infuriating and humbling. A muggle-born, someone who didn’t know about the magical world until the age of ten, and she performed as the brightest witch of her age. Even Severus was impressed with her scores in N.E.W.T.s as they bested his previous record. The dour man wasn’t initially pleased when she managed to stabilise him long enough for Poppy to treat him in the middle of the bloody Final battle, but Lucius was glad his closest friend got to live the life he was due after so many years atoning for his youthful folly. Severus even to this date consulted with her regularly when it came to Potions and Dark Arts that needed to be considered when drawing legislation or policy.
From the stubborn, frizzy-haired child, to a skilled young witch besting some of the highly-trained Death Eaters, she continued to equally impress and infuriate Lucius over the years. She was the living evidence of just how flawed the world-view his generation of pureblood wizards and witches was spoon-fed from their parents. He knew the Dark Lord was coming back when Harry Potter entered Hogwarts, and it was the catalyst for his work with the Order of the Phoenix alongside Severus as the other spy.
He had placed his family in danger with his actions but Narcissa, ever steel-willed, agreed it was the only way for them to survive and bring down the man who ended up taking a residence in their home towards the end. When his crazy sister-in-law tortured the very witch on the floor of his dining room, he couldn’t do anything to help her, only watch and hold Draco back from interfering, seeing the pain and shame in his gaze mirrored in Draco’s watery gaze.
His brilliant son whom he was so proud of. It was through Draco and his relationship with young Miss Weasley that he had had the opportunity to get to know the Golden Girl. The world dubbed her such due to being part of the Golden Trio. But Lucius had to concede gold suited her - the gold spark of intelligence and excitement in her whiskey eyes, the golden highlights in her hair for the Winter ball, the understated but elegant gown she wore for the spring festival where she didn’t make a scene when her date Blaise Zabini left with another woman, handling the situation graciously with the support of her friends.
For someone so petite, she had a presence and Lucius, ever-drawn to power as a true Slytherin, couldn’t help but notice. Narcissa, politely holding onto his arm, had even suggested he may wish to stop gawking like a Gryffindor or he would get caught out.
The thought of his wife made melancholy rise in his chest as he picked up the frame photograph he kept on the mantle.
Narcissa Black had always been formidable but as a Mafloy she was a woman one did not cross. She was strong, solid, his rock, his support, a dear friend and companion. There had been no romantic love between them but they were fond of each other, especially when Draco enriched their family with his arrival. When the Black blood curse reared its ugly head last year, she continued to weaken until she was so frail he had been afraid to hold her hand as he sat by her bedside despondently. But she knew him too well and asked that he doesn’t mourn her long before finding himself a companion that his heart would love as well this time, and that he be a better father to Draco than he had been. He had made her that promise, and was living with it every day, knowing it was time to perhaps return to wizarding society and once again be seen out and about to continue building the Malfoy name now that his son was married and had his own path to follow.
He was interrupted from his thoughts by Bitsy appearing beside him. “Your whiskey is on the table master. Did you want Bitsy to prepare anything for Missy Granger visit tomorrow?” she asked nervously.
“Coffee in the winter sunroom if you would, Bitsy. Thank you,” he nodded and dismissed her as he set the frame back down and headed back to his study.
If he was going to spend time with Miss Granger, he better get the accounts finished today…
She stepped through the floo right on time as the clock struck three, glad to have opted for the simple but elegant long-sleeve burgundy wrap dress and ankle boots, seeing the opulence of the Manor. It always took her breath away, not always in good ways though.
Draco knew she would struggle with his ancestral home so invited her to view their library once and allowed her to confront her demons as they passed the drawing room where she had been tortured. After a crying panic attack and a couple of shots of whiskey, she allowed him to hug her before guiding her around the magnificent library and completely distracting her with the incredible historical tomes there. She still sometimes requested access for her legal research and Draco was always kind enough to grant it, assuring her it was with his father’s awareness and consent.
She’d had relatively few interactions with Lucius since the end of the war but they always left an impression and she returned home from their interaction with tension in her chest. She had known there was always more to the man than the eyes perceive. Not that there wasn’t plenty to look at. For a man in his early fifties, he was elegant, trim as ever with broad shoulders, sharp jaw and the most intense silver gaze she had ever seen. Draco’s eyes were full of water, a blue-grey that combined his parents’ traits. But the vivid silver gray of the Malfoy patriarch made her stomach flip every time he pierced her with that intense gaze.
Just as he was doing right now. “Miss Granger,” he stepped forward to greet her as she siphoned away the ashes from her dress and took her hand, placing a featherlight kiss to her knuckles, ever impeccable in his manners. And in his style, judging by the icy blue shirt and slacks he wore, looking elegant but comfortable in his home.
“Mister Malfoy, thank you for your time today,” she offered in return, reaching into her little extendable purse to pull out a binder she had set up for the wedding.
His eyebrow quirked in query before his lips stretched into an amused smile. “Is that a highly complex and illegal piece of charm work, Miss Granger?”
Caught, she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean, Mister Malfoy,” she flipped back, looking at him expectantly to drop the subject.
Lucius inclined his head though there was a spark of curiosity in his intense faze now when he looked at her. “Well then, perhaps we may begin by you calling me Lucius instead, if you would be so inclined,” he suggested and offered her his elbow to escort her through the Manor.
She blinked at him like a ninny before catching herself and stepping closer, noting his expensive cologne of vetiver and cedar. “Only if you call me Hermione,” she conceded and allowed herself to be led through corridor after corridor until they reached a beautiful sunroom with the winter blooms and deliciously smelling coffee.
“I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of serving coffee. My son assures me we have a shared joy of flavoured Turkish grind.”
She looked at him in surprise before smiling broadly, accepting the seat he pulled out for her and took a deep breath to identify the aroma. “Cardamom?” she asked excitedly.
He nodded with an amused smile. “I recently returned from Istanbul and brought some stock with me. I would be happy to share some with you if you enjoy the blend.”
“That is very generous, Mister-Lucius,” she smiled and allowed for Bitsy to pour their coffee before accepting the small cup and saucer painted in the most beautiful colours. She adored traditional pottery. Forgetting herself a moment, she smiled broadly at the elegant man across from her, seated with his legs crossed leisurely as he sipped his drink. “Do you travel often? I admit I haven’t followed your escapades since the war and I am sure we can agree the Prophet is not exactly known for quality journalism,” she pointed out.
Lucius sneered at the mention of the damned newspaper. “Then you have more common sense than most of the British Wizarding population,” he sighed. “Sadly not as often as I would like to in the past year but I hope to return to travel at my leisure. Once Draco’s nuptials are concluded, I plan to travel to Vienna for a conference and some sight-seeing. It is a beautiful city.”
“Oh, how interesting! I will be in Vienna for a trip with the Minister’s office as well. Perhaps our paths will cross,” she offered graciously without commitment. She was under no impression he would like to spend time with her.
“That would be most fortuitous, I would enjoy your company Hermione,” he offered enigmatically, surprising her with his openness and wanting to be around her.
Feeling safer in changing the subject, she switched to the plans she brought with her and the rest of the afternoon was focused on reviewing the grounds, assessing the best wing for the guests to spend the night before the wedding, and planning to accommodate the hen and stag do’s with some rooms for the small parties if they wished it.
Her spine stiffened as they neared the doors to the dining room, and not missing a beat or her reaction, realising just where they are, Lucius found himself reaching for her lower back where he placed a steadying hand and steered her down the corridor towards the library instead.
The heat of his touch through the fabric of her dress was scalding but she felt its absence keenly when he dropped his touch once they came to the double doors to the beautiful library. “Since you are visiting today, I thought you may wish to visit our library and make use of the trip for your latest research,” he offered.
Hermione looked at him, her lip popping free from the hold of her teeth, a nervous gesture he noted she had kept from her youth. “Thank you, Lucius. For allowing me access to your library and seeing me in your home. I appreciate it isn’t something afforded to people like me often.”
“People like yourself, Hermione?” he asked, his gaze sharpening at her words.
She shrugged. “I don’t think many mudbloods have visited your home casually,” she said softly but clearly, her chin raised.
Lucius took a step back from her, arms behind his back in a tall, unyielding posture. “I appreciate neither your language, nor your insinuation, Miss Granger,” he enunciated clearly, making her wince at the reversal to her surname. “You are a guest in my home and I had hoped our family has proven to you we no longer hold these beliefs. It is clear that is not the case so I bid you a good day. Bitsy will see you out when you are done with the library,” he turned on his heel, shoulders stiff and his displeasure pulsing along his skin with his magic.
“Wait, Lucius, I’m sorry!” Hermione took a step towards him, her hand reaching for him before she dropped it self-consciously. He paused but didn’t turn back to look at her. “You’re right, that was incredibly rude of me. You have been nothing but courteous to me despite our shared history, and I have long known that both yourself and Draco worked with the Order to defeat Him. I…. That room always brings up memories I would rather forget,” she finished lamely, feeling wrong-footed all of a sudden.
There was a moment of tense silence between them before Lucius’ shoulders relaxed slightly and he turned back to look at her, his gaze cutting right through her as he observed her and the sincerity in her eyes.
He finally nodded in acceptance of her apology and opened the door of the library for her to step through. “We have a new acquisition, a book on Justinian’s law, or medieval Roman law, which experienced its rebirth in northern Italy during the 12th and 13th centuries. It’s over 500 years old, I thought you might enjoy it.”
Her eyes positively sparked at the mention of the book and the last of his anger at her remark receded in the face of her enjoyment. He had a feeling this wasn’t the last time she challenged him though.
July 2007
The wedding was a great success, the guests awed at the stunning simplicity of Ginny’s white wedding dress and Draco’s smitten smile as they said their bonding vows beneath one of the oldest trees in the Malfoy grounds in front of a carefully selected audience of 150 guests.
Hermione smiled at them fondly and studiously avoided the piercing gaze of the best man, Theodore Nott. It wasn't that she was biased against him in any way, but the bastard did take Blaise's side when he ditched her in the middle of an event with the words 'too boring and frigid', so he was not getting a minute of her time.
The transition to the large ballroom for the reception was thankfully smooth and they made a quick change of dress before joining the guests again. The live orchestra got everyone's attention before smoothly transitioning into a lulling love song for the first dance of the happy couple. Hermione watched them happily, seeing the love in Draco’s eyes when he looked at his new wife, and Ginny's answering beaming smile.
She realised Nott was inching his way towards her as the best man and maid of honour traditionally joined the couple along with the parents. Not that today was traditional as Molly and Arthur refused to attend a wedding into the Malfoy family. Hermione was truly saddened by their attitude and could see it was hurting Ginny, but the redhead was stubborn and knew it was a matter of time. So no dance for Lucius and Molly, not that she could imagine such an occasion. It would have been too much of a juxtaposition, two completely different worlds. Nott on the other hand looked rather determined to have his dance with her, but she felt instead a warm hand settle on the lower back.
"Would you do me the honour?" His voice so close to her ear was torturously sensual and she tried to suppress the shudder of pleasure that traveled down her spine.
"Of course," she placed her hand in his and he squeezed it delicately, leading her to the dance floor.
He nodded to the band in acknowledgement and she heard the music transition into a smooth waltz, letting herself be led. It took her a few moments to realise that everyone was staring at them and the whispering has increased tenfold. "Did you know that everyone is staring?" She asked softly.
"Does that bother you?" He asked quietly as he spun her beautifully around the dance floor across from the newlyweds.
Hermione thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. "They would have stared either way, but this is quite conspicuous," she pointed out frankly.
After months spent planning the wedding with the father of the groom, she could safely say three things;
Lucius Malfoy never did anything without a reason. She may not always understand what it is, but his mind was already five moves ahead and his sheer intellect was practically palpable.
Though she had initially considered herself immune to the Malfoy charm, the past few months completely dissuaded her from that notion. His manners, the respect he treated her with while stripping her argument bare and forcing her view inside out was extraordinary. And she had loved every second of it.
And then there was the way he touched her - the warm hand that led her through the Manor, the firm biceps beneath her fingers when she held onto his arm as they walked the gardens, discussing the finer details of the ceremony. She was sure he was doing it on purpose, noting the way her breath would catch and body react to his closeness and powerful aura.
Lucius' hand on her back slid lower on her spine as he pulled their bodies half a step closer, still within reason and acceptability but much more intimate. The volume of whispers around them rose a few decibels.
"Now they have something to gossip about," he hummed, silver eyes twinkling.
Hermione was momentarily stunned before clearing her throat and finding her voice. “Careful, Lucius. I hear you are on the lookout for the next Lady Malfoy and this display may hinder or even compromise such efforts,” she teased but knew it to be true.
With the wedding planning underway and his mourning period at an end, Lucius began once again appearing at Ministry galas, balls, and out and about in the society. He had been seen with several women, ranging from young women her age to eligible widows in their forties. It appeared he was not shy about seeking company and why should he be? He was Britain’s most eligible bachelor.
“Hmm perhaps, perhaps not,” he answered ambiguously as he spun her closer for the final cords of the song.
Enigmatic to the core. She dropped an elegant little curtsy in response to his bow and he led her towards the newlyweds, taking over a dance with his new daughter as Draco took Hermione into his arms for the jazzy song the band initiated for a little more lively atmosphere.
“I wanted to thank you,” he surprised her as they spun around the dance floor and both turned to look at Ginny looking like the perfect bride chatting in soft tones with her new father-in-law. “I haven't seen father this social and content since before the war. It’s been good for him, and I suspect your legendary debates have something to do with it,” he grinned.
“Legendary?” she raised a curious brow.
“The house elves talk. Bitsy mentioned she liked the evenings when you came around because Father remembers to eat, has dessert, and keeps the drinking to a minimum,” he explained. “I worried for him for a while, he leaned heavily on the bottle for support when...you know. But he seems much more like himself these days.”
“I can hardly be credited for that but he’s been...very accommodating and I did enjoy planning the wedding with him for you,” she admitted.
Draco’s gaze remained on his father for a moment longer before he turned his gaze to her. “Just be careful,” he said softly after a silent moment between them.
She looked at him in surprise. “What exactly are you warning me about?”
The song came to an end and they headed to the edge of the dancefloor. Her question remained without answer as Draco reclaimed his wife and Hermione headed for the champagne. Her official duties done, she found herself wandering away from the ballroom and up into the library, releasing a sigh of contentment as she picked up one of the poetry books and kicked off her heels, pulling her feet up under her comfortably on the leather sofa. She loved the smell of it, the firm leather not the most comfortable but it was worn down somewhat into comfort on her side and she took advantage of it by curling into the corner against the sofa’s side and stretching her legs out over the firm cushions.
“I should have known I would find you here,” her peace was interrupted an hour or so later by the Lord of the Manor himself.
“I can’t resist your library, it’s far too precious to be ignored any time I visit,” she pointed out, closing the book and shifting to sit up, not wanting to be too informal before the man in case she made him uncomfortable.
To her surprise, he sat down beside her and patted her ankle to keep her there, summoning the brandy tray with a couple of glasses. He poured them each a glass and sat back contently, his hand never leaving her ankle as he began rubbing the arch of her foot. Hermione tried, she really did, but the touch of his thumb was just firm enough to force a pleased little hum past her lips.
His silver gaze snapped to her and she felt her cheeks colour as he observed her silently, his thumb pressing into the arch of her foot once again, seeing her shoulders roll slightly in enjoyment.
“Shall we stop dancing around the issue then, Hermione?” he asked, his expression still giving away very little.
“What issue would that be?” she asked nonchalantly, despite feeling anything but.
It took Lucius mere seconds to set his glass down and suddenly pull on her ankle, his solid frame twisting to hover over the length of her body. “The issue of no longer being too busy with planning a wedding to enjoy each other,” his deep baritone caressed her senses, and she felt his thigh press against her core where her dress had ridden up with the sudden move.
Her hips rubbed against the delicious friction before she could stop the natural reaction. She pressed a hand against his chest, not to push him away but to stay his movement as he leaned closer. Their lips were barely a breath away from each other as he looked at her and waited patiently for whatever it was she had to say.
“This is insane, Lucius. We can’t just...what would Draco think…” she tried to argue, but it was of no use.
His lips fluttered against hers and his tongue brushed her bottom lip sensually as he leaned closer, his heady scent making her head swim. “You can end this with a single word, Hermione. I will need a yes or a no,” he hummed, his large hand trailing a blazing path up her thigh, pushing the rest of her chiffon skirt up to her hip where he squeezed the smooth rich skin.
She couldn't talk, she couldn’t think, her touch-deprived body screaming at her to take him up on the offer and finally let herself touch this man whom she’d slowly been fantasising about over the past few weeks. He was still an arrogant bastard but by Gods he was also the only person who had stimulated her intellectually and emotionally in years. Would it truly be so terrible to allow herself a bit of pleasure?
“Your word, Hermione…” he whispered, holding himself back just enough to get off her in a moment if she pushed him away.
But her lips only wanted to speak one word. “Yes…” she whispered, the sibilant at the end turning into a hiss of pleasure as he pressed against her fully and began devouring the tender skin of her neck, breathing her in as their bodies came crashing against each other.
“I want to feel you-” she started pulling on his shirt impatiently, feeling her core clenching hungrily at the press of his very much hard length confined still by his slacks.
“No, I will not rush this,” he paused, dipping down to kiss her before pulling back up, piercing her with that intense silver gaze. “I have waited too long for this, I will not be rushed.”
He reached up to her hair and tugged on the gold ribbon tied around her elegant bun, releasing it from her hair only to push her hands up above her head. He secured her wrists together and stuck them to the cushion up above her, never once taking his eyes off her. She bit her bottom lip a bit nervously, feeling far too exposed and vulnerable in this position with a man of Lucius’ power hovering over her. He reached down to the floor and she could hear the clip on her clutch pop open before he pressed her wand into her hand silently.
He was offering her security, a way out at all times, while indulging them both with this torturous treat. And she found herself all the more eager for his touch at the display of mutual trust. He reached behind her neck and untied the halter top, revealing a strapless black bra, flat scarred stomach with a purple puckered line that ran from the valley of her breasts down to her left hip bone, finishing just beneath the edge of the small scrap of black lace she considered underwear. She had never been self-conscious about her war scars but Lucius’ intense regard made her squirm in her confines.
He caressed her sides reassuringly before reaching up to pull down the cups of the bra to reveal pert dusky nipples, puckered against the cool air of the library and the pleasure they anticipated as he leaned forward and flicked his tongue across each in turn, sucking on the tender flesh and hard little buds while his fingers worked to divest her of the knickers seamlessly. She didn’t know where her skin began and his lips and touch ended as he completely overwhelmed her senses with his tongue trailing Dolohov’s cursed scar all the way down to the near little patch of dark curls, thoroughly ignoring it in favour of licking and nipping on the tender skin of her inner thighs and making her squirm at the tickling sensation.
“Fuck..please,” she pleaded softly, her arms tugging on her restraints with the need to direct his head to where she wanted to feel him the most. The blasted ribbon held however, and she could do little else but arch her hips closer to show him what she wanted.
“Please what?” he asked nonetheless, pushing up over the length of her body to kiss her deeply, his tongue plunging past her lips to taste her like a man starved.
“Please fuck me,” she panted, her bright whiskey gaze nearly his undoing.
“Hmmm I could….” he caressed the soft skin between her breasts, kissing each almost reverently before making his way back down, this time pushing her thighs further apart to fit his shoulders between them. “But first, I want to taste you,” he smirked in that fucking infuriating way of his.
Before she had a chance to retaliate, his tongue pressed flat against her perineum and licked over her sodden lips to her pulsing clit, making her breath hitch and body arch in pleasure. Fucking finally! She tried to respond but all she managed to do was babble something incoherently as he plunged his tongue inside her wet heat in a series of quick jabs, feeling her slick walls clenching for him hungrily before returning to the swollen clit just begging for his attention. He licked around it carefully, not wishing to over-stimulate her just yet, but it was clear she had been a while without touch and was quickly on the verge of coming. Deciding not to torture her too much, he slid one of his fingers smoothly inside her tight heat, groaning against her soft lips at the feel of her, making Hermione arch sharply against his touch.
“Fuck, yes, yes, yesss,” she hissed, digging her heels into the mattress and shoving her hips into his touch needfully as he added another digit quickly. It didn’t take him long to find her spot once he crooked his fingers, the slightly roughened patch making her jump and cry out. He wanted to see her fall apart, his lips attached to her clit as he thrusts his fingers sharply against the tender spot in a quick rhythm designed to get her over the edge. It took only a breath for her to fall, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm as her lips parted in a silent scream.
He coaxed her through it, barely able to move when she clenched so hard, but caressed her walls gently, letting her catch her breath for a moment as he kissed her thighs in a gentle calming rhythm. She was just opening her eyes to look at him with a languid smile when he pulled his touch back only to trust the digits back home again, starting her up again before the flutters even ended.
Her eyes opened sharply and she gasped in surprise at the firm thrust, her arms pulling on the restraints as he worked her up again with increasingly quicker thrusts of his fingers.
“Lu-ci-us! I-fuck..can’t..” she panted, his name breaking into syllables in time with his thrusting touch, her lips denying her ability to come again while her body begged for more pleasure.
“Yes you can, and you will. Come for me, witch,” he commanded huskily and leaned down to suck on her clit harshly, making her shatter under such stimulation into another pulsing orgasm that removed her sense of reality.
She waited for her senses to sharpen from the dulled white noise of her pleasure, realising she was once again untied, his thumbs gently working blood flow back into her wrists as he muttered a spell to heal the reddened skin.
She felt cleaning charms wash over her skin and her bra and knickers right themselves, but her dress remained on the floor where he had tossed it earlier. She realised he hadn’t even come himself and tried to reach for him but he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Later. Rest now,” Lucius flicked his wand at the sofa until it enlarged enough to fit them both, and pulled the soft throw over them, letting her curl into his warmth as he held her close.
“What about you?” she mumbled sleepily, the exhaustion of the past two days of final preparations and the wedding itself crashing down on her.
“We have time. Draco and Ginevra have surely left for their honeymoon by now. We’ll have this whole wing to ourselves after you rest,” he promised, holding her a little bit closer.
Hermione nuzzled against his breastbone, her wild hair tickling his chin as he leaned down and breathed in the smell of her coconut shampoo with relish. His plan had originally been to fuck her senseless and get this infatuation out of his system. She was half his age, with so many prospects and so much goodness he was loath to taint her with his desire at first. But now he knew how she felt, how she tasted, he would have her again, and felt a new determination settle in his chest, knowing this felt different somehow than any other previous dalliance.
She woke a few hours later, a bit disoriented and her bladder full to bursting. She carefully got up to not disturb the man beside her, and gathered her clothes, feeling the urge to flee. Last night she had shown him trust, and he trusted her in return with her wand in hand as he took her apart with his touch and tongue.
In the early morning hours though, she felt all the more foolish for thinking she was anything but another notch on his bedpost. She couldn’t stay, couldn’t look into those hypnotic eyes and resist the desire to have him when he woke up. No, she wouldn’t be just another one of his conquests. Without further thought, she gathered her shoes and clutch and dashed to the room next door when she disappeared in the floo, leaving Lucius to awaken alone.
November 2007
Paris in November wasn’t at its most beautiful but Hermione nonetheless preferred it to the heat and mass of tourists in the summer. The European Wizarding Summit was to last seven days in total and while she had some duties with Kingsley’s office, she had found plenty of time to see a few sights, make her way through the local hidden bookshops, and dust off her French in her favourite Jewish bakery in the Marais.
And yet, she felt the absence of a companion most keenly when she sat down for dinner by herself, surrounded by tables filled with groups of colleagues and friends, and intimate tables where couples spoke in hushed tones and shared a bottle of wine with their delicious meal. She ate alone, drank most of the wine by herself and headed up to bed, feeling tired and ready for her two week-long break over Christmas and New Year. Not that she had much planned.
She knew Ginny and Draco worried about her, especially when they came back from their honeymoon to her fake cheerful smile and barely saw her due to the hours she worked, burying herself in work so she had a reason to decline the invitations sent by the other Malfoy.
After she left Lucius to wake alone, it took a couple of days for him to send a short message with one of the soft peonies from the summer garden, asking if she was well and would do him the pleasure of joining him for a coffee in the garden. She inquired about his well-being in return and politely declined the offer, stating too much work. Another offer, this time for dinner, arrived a week or so later, but she once again politely declined as she was too busy at a gala hosted by the DMLE. Then a short invitation to a quick lunch came in early August, disappearing under her memos for two days until she found it and debated for another day whether to respond or not. The next morning the Daily Prophet printed a front page article about a charity ball from the previous evening, with a large photo of none other than Lucius Malfoy dancing and smiling at his companion, a pristinely dressed and coifed brunette in sleek robes, just about Hermione’s age.
She didn’t respond.
He didn’t contact her again.
They went a few weeks without seeing each other before bumping into each other in the Ministry lift, the crush of bodies around them pressing her close into his side. The familiar cologne of vetiver and cedar made her breath hitch as the lift took off to the side and she pressed into his firm body until he gripped her arm with a gloved hand and steadied her. She desperately wanted to find the words to break the tension between them but the lift suddenly stopped and he moved towards the exit with a soft ‘Miss Granger’, disappearing into the crowd and leaving her feeling strangely bereft at the formal greeting.
They bumped into each other at Draco’s home a few times since, but spent very little time in each other’s company, one of them always in the process of leaving, the tension between them palpable enough for Ginny and Draco to notice as well. They tried to ask but she only shook her head, asking them to leave it each time.
She pinned her wild curls up with the ornate comb and pulled on her strappy cocktail dress, ready for dinner. She was dining with the Minister for a change and was glad not to be alone for her last evening at the luxurious hotel. She made her way down in the lift and into the restaurant, walking in and spotting Kingsley easily.
He waved for her to join him, her smile barely faltering when she noticed the tall blond standing beside him.
“Ah Hermione, timely as always,” Kingsley greeted her, looking dapper in a midnight blue muggle suit. “I’m afraid I have apologies to make however,” he sighed, seeing her shoulders tense a little.
“Oh?” she managed, trying not to be distracted by the heat of the man’s body as Lucius shifted his stance, leaning more comfortably against his cane.
“Yes, you see, the Belgian Minister of Magic approached me and wishes to discuss an exchange programme for our advisory department to promote intercultural knowledge. I could hardly refuse. Would you mind having dinner with Lucius here instead? He had a few ideas regarding the budget to accommodate your latest reform proposal,” he offered.
“Of course,” she agreed graciously, nodding to Kingsley as he found his table, leaving her to stand silently beside the imposing blond.
She finally lifted her gaze to look at him, taking in the firm, smooth jawline, long silver hair tied back into a slightly messy ponytail, and his brilliant silver gaze piercing her very being.
“Shall we?” he offered her his arm in invitation. For some reason she sensed it wasn’t just a polite gesture. It was an invitation, perhaps the last one he would issue her.
She pushed her shoulders back and straightened her spine, drawing on her Gryffindor courage as she slipped her hand around his elbow and gently squeezed his biceps. “Lead the way,” she nodded, allowing herself to be drawn to a nearby table, seating herself onto the chair he pushed in for her, his impeccable manners still making her stomach flip pleasantly.
The tense silence only remained until their drinks arrived, then she asked about his budget suggestions and they smoothly ignored the tension and personal topics in favour of discussing her proposal and the budgetary review it would require. Which led to a debate on international legislation relating to the rights of centaurs, and finished with a heated argument over territory agreement practices imposed by the Ministry on the being communities.
They were interrupted by the waitress stopping by with a wide smile, asking them if they would like to order dessert, recommending the sharing chocolate tartlet. Their gaze met over the table and Hermione made her apologies, suddenly far too aware of how easily she slipped back into their old way of discussing anything and everything. The tension returned as Lucius asked for the bill and they waited patiently for it to arrive, his frown dissuading her from offering to pay her half of dinner a second time.
He escorted her to the lift and she discovered that he was on the same floor as her, preparing herself mentally for the torturous ride up to the eighth floor. They stood in silence at the opposite ends of the lift, the air between them so thick it could be cut with a knife. She heard him inhale deeply before he finally asked the question she had feared would come all evening.
“Why did you leave that morning?” he asked, his tone without accusation, face carefully blank in the face of her rejection.
She didn’t answer for a moment until the door began opening and she headed out of the lift. “How is your latest conquest?” she asked in return, her tone sharper than she intended as she took a right turn down the hall towards her door.
She stuttered as he gripped her arm to stop her and turned her around to look into his stormy gaze. “You have no right to judge my actions, or my seeking company after you sneaked out of my home in the early morning hours like a common trollop and refused all of my further invitations to meet.”
Her gaze blazed with fury as she yanked her arm out of his grip, or at least attempted to, only ending up pressed closer to him. “Let me go. What the fuck do you care? I was only one more notch on your bedpost anyway. I only left before you came to your senses in the morning and threw me out like a common trollop as you so kindly pointed out I behaved like.”
He froze, his piercing gaze tearing her defense to shreds as he pushed her against the hallway wall and pulled her into a punishing kiss, pressing past her lips to thrust his tongue home, groaning when she sucked on the slick muscle hungrily.
“You. Infuriating. Stubborn. Witch,” he panted harshly, yanking on her curls until she gave into the direction of pull and bared her throat to his licks and sucking bites, barely able to process the change in pace.
“I’m infuriating? You smug, entitled bastard,” she punched his shoulder, her fist clenching in his shirt as she pulled him closer, her thigh rising on his leg as their bodies aligned and he pressed his hardness against her belly.
“Room,” he commanded, looking up and down the corridor to decide whose was closer.
“Here,” she pointed to the door beside them and pushed him away long enough to swipe her room card into the slot and push in, not bothering to switch on the harsh overhead light, the room illuminated by the soft glow of a bedside lamp enough to guide them. She managed to kick off her heels before she was pressed between the wooden door and the hard planes of Lucius’s body.
“Fuck, witch. You were never just a conquest...never,” he panted, pulling her into another deep kiss as she clung to him desperately, wrapping her legs around him as his hands urged her up into his arms, pressing into her with just as much need and desperation.
“I couldn’t...I didn’t know what to trust….but it’s been months and I still can’t stop thinking about you,” she admitted, her legs clenching around his waist as he reached beneath her and pushed his trousers down, and her dress out of the way.
“Tell me you want this witch. No more running, no more hiding, just you and I. Until we tire of each other, or until you wear a Malfoy diamond,” he said uncompromisingly.
She paused, her hands cupping his face as she looked into his bright eyes, realising he meant it. It wasn’t just another fling. He was offering her true courtship, until they agreed they were not suited and parted ways, or he proposed as custom dictated. She recalled their conversation on the dancefloor of Draco’s and Ginny’s wedding when she suggested dancing with her was inhibiting his chances of finding the new Lady Malfoy, and his ambiguous response to her quip. Could it be? Was this in the cards for them?
“I want you..want this, us,” she breathed the admission across his lips as he surged to claim another urgent kiss, his fingers fumbling with her knickers for a moment until he pushed them aside and coated the head of his cock in her slick, notching at her entrance only to slide home smoothly in a single thrust.
Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp as the stretch bordered on too much, but he gave her a moment to find her breath before leaning her against the door more firmly and began thrusting home with deep long strokes, groaning into her hair when she tightened around him invitingly.
“You’ll be the death of me, witch,” he grumbled, arching as her nails dug into his shoulders despite the layers of fabric.
“I’m not the more infuriating one,” she argued back with a grin, the expression quickly falling from her face as she was slammed against the door with the next thrust, feeling him reach a new depth. Her eyes widened at the change of angle and she clutched him to her urgently. “Right there-fuck, yess,” she urged, tugging on his messy ponytail.
They lasted only a handful of thrusts more as Hermione was thrown over the edge with a particularly delicious thrust, his loins rubbing against her clit, pushing her easily over. He grunted when she fluttered around him and felt his body give into the draw of pleasure as he thrust home and exploded deep inside her.
They held onto each other for a few moments longer, trying to catch their breath before they gently separated their bodies and looked at each other, completely dishevelled. Hermione suppressed a grin and reached down, pulling her dress up over her head, leaving her in nothing but her ruined pair of knickers. Lucius stared at her for a moment, trying to decide whether to take it for the invitation he sensed.
“Well then, since you got me this messy, fancy cleaning me up in the shower?” she offered.
He shrugged out of his robes and hung them up on the hook beside the door. “How could I decline such an offer?”
“Hmm better make it thorough, this is our last night here after all,” she teased, bending down to take off her knickers, smiling to herself at the sound of his quiet groan at the display.
“Perhaps it doesn’t have to be. How would you like a long weekend in France, just the two of us? I do have a villa or two,” he offered casually as he continued to take off items of clothing.
Her gaze positively sparkled as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “As long as you have a gold ribbon somewhere in your luggage.”
Fin.