The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic, and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

beta credit:  Brightki and CoquetteKitten.



Hermione decided she might never leave the decadent bathtub in her decadent suite. The bubbles were glorious, the redolent oils were exquisite, the water was piping hot, and Fleur had at last reverted to her daydreaming, slightly condescending self. Just a few more minutes of peace. The curly-haired witch slid deeper under the bubbles, wincing a bit at the movement and then sighing in pleasure once more. She returned to her analysis of the most recent events of the morning.


When the two witches had emerged from the dungeons less than an hour ago, Harry had been waiting in the Great Hall surrounded by three anxious Weasley men. He’d pulled her into a long, rocking hug that conveyed every ounce of his love and concern for her. “What on earth is going on, ‘Mione? Lucius told us to search the grounds for an intruder and guard the dungeon door. We’ve had no idea . . .”


Hermione gave a half-amused groan. “Pansy hid in the potions lab, blew it up, and then got caught. She’s down there with about ten wands aimed at her head.”


Harry screwed his face into a grimace. “I can honestly say that I hate that witch.”


“Who doesn’t? I think she either escaped or checked herself out of St. Mungo’s. They’ll be Flooing to pick her up as soon as the wards drop.”


Harry’s eyes darted to a point in the room behind her and he smiled softly. “Well, look at that.” They both turned in the direction of his glance to see a suddenly shy Fleur talking quietly with the men who had cast their stakes for her so recently.


Charlie was holding her hand between both of his own and had raised it to the level of his mouth. He was speaking, and his lips were moving against Fleur’s hand. She was flushed and breathless, and her eyes alternated between dropping demurely and glancing quickly him. When Charlie released her hand and stepped back, Bill took his place.


The eldest Weasley bowed low over the hand she offered him, maintaining eye contact with her until she blushed the deepest shade of red Hermione had ever seen, and her chest heaved as if she’d run a great distance. Bill said nothing, but Hermione saw him lean in toward Fleur’s neck and inhale deeply. He gave a feral grin and stood to his full height, never looking away from the entranced chaperone.


“I don’t know the exact rules of pre-consideration, but we should probably interject ourselves into that situation,” Harry murmured in a low voice. Bill seemed to hear that, because his head snapped in their direction. His eyes gleamed dangerously for a brief second and then he gave an apologetic smirk. Harry added, as if to himself, “Definitely a good idea.”


Percy stood the farthest away from Fleur, and his eyes were glued on her face, his mouth gaping open. When she finally looked his way with a radiant smile, his eyes fluttered and he swayed dangerously. Harry and Hermione approached the group, they heard Fleur say softly, “You must be Percy.” That’s all it took for the third-born Weasley wizard to collapse in a dead faint at her feet.


That broke the spell. Bill and Charlie hauled their brother up between the two of them and brought him to the thick rug near the hearth, and Fleur seemed to gather her wits about her. She excused herself from her two conscious would-be suitors and returned to her duties as chaperone with a sigh. “Good morning, Mr. Potter. Come on, Hermione. We need to follow Lucius’ orders.”


The curly-haired opened her mouth to argue that point when she felt a curious, light swooping sensation course over her body. “Did either of you just feel that?” At their puzzled faces, she tried to explain the odd feeling.


It was Bill who supplied the answer. He and Charlie had left Percy and come to stand with them. “That’s probably the wards you’re sensing through the Malfoy covenant — they must have dropped.” Sure enough, there was a cough of green flame from the enormous hearth and then several figures emerged, each wearing the uniform of St. Mungo’s healers.


At the Weasley men’s approach, Hermione realized that the old comfortable relationship she’d always shared with them seemed to still be in place. Charlie gave her an impish smile and wink and his customary, “Hello, love.” She peeked up at Bill to find him nodding at her encouragingly, as if to assure her that everything was good between them. His eyes went to Fleur and back to Hermione, and they shared a look of contented understanding.


Their silent communication was cut short when an unmistakable, pompous voice announced nearby, “Lead Healer Tertius Flambolt of the Second Floor Emergency Response Team here at the request of Lucius Malfoy.” He raised the volume and intonation of his voice on the last two words as if dropping her elder wizard’s name gave him extra importance. Hermione gave an inward groan and turned toward the man who had treated her during the quarantine at school. He wore the same theatrical robes and imperious expression, and seemed to be directing his speech at Harry. Her brother-figure shrugged and indicated the witch beside him.  


When the wizard finally deigned to look at her, she managed to say politely, “Good morning, sir. Pansy Parkinson is in the dungeon, awaiting removal by your team.”


Healer Flambolt sniffed. “I will only speak to Mr. Malfoy. Tell him I’m here.”


There was the sound of footsteps from behind them, and they all turned as one to see Lucius exiting the dungeon. His face was set in its usual unreadable mask, but Hermione saw the subtle shadow that passed over it. He moved to her side in his graceful, predatory way and looked her over, brushing a wayward curl from her face with one long finger. “Is there a problem, my prize?”


A series of simultaneous thoughts occurred to her: first, that Lucius was effectively peeing on her in front of the Weasley wizards; second, that he could see most of her body through the engagement dress; third, that anyone who knew to look for the aura of her rune would know she had now taken it; and fourth, that Lead Healer Tertius Flambolt had just unwittingly offered himself up on the sacrificial altar of Lucius Malfoy’s wrath. The first thought made her irritated, the second sent a new rush of wetness to her knickers, and the last made her smile. “This man will only talk to you, Lucius.”


“Indeed.” He glanced at the Healer and back to Hermione. Lucius drew her arm through his own, and led her toward Tertius Flambolt, keeping his eyes only on her. “This man won’t talk to my lovely bride-to-be?”


The wizard in question began, “Mr. Ma-“


Hermione interrupted the Healer and held Lucius’ gaze. “No, he won’t, although I’ve told him that Pansy is being held in the dungeon.”


Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Healer raise a hand indignantly. “Excu-“


“I wonder what he has to say that cannot be said to the future Mistress of Malfoy Manor,” Lucius mused with a frown that didn’t quite meet his eyes, brushing another curl behind her ear. “Can you think what it could be, pet?”


An angry huff preceded Tertius Flambolt’s next attempt to enter the conversation.   “I’m sta-“


“No, Lucius.” She bit back the smirk that threatened to escape. “He wouldn’t say.”


Both hands seemed to be waving wildly now, although Hermione forced herself to keep her eyes locked with those of her handsome wizard. Flambolt all but shrieked, “MR. MA-“


“And you’re quite sure you told him that Miss Parkinson was being detained for his team in the dungeon?” Hermione didn’t have to look away from Lucius to know that the Healer standing ignored before them was practically vibrating with fury, and she simply nodded in response. Lucius continued in his deadliest purr, “I do hope he keeps better track of his patient this time. Such carelessness will inevitably be brought to the attention of his superiors.” There was a sputtering noise, which they disregarded. “I believe that’s settled, then. Come, pet. We have a small matter to settle in my study.”


Suddenly he was leading her away from Flambolt, toward the group of people at the back of the huge room. She blinked. Small matter? “Errrrr . . . What about Pansy?”


“That fool can figure it on his own, and if not he’ll have to ask someone else. I find him tiresome at best. Please wait here.” They were several paces away from Harry, Fleur, and the Weasleys now, and Hermione was relieved to see that Percy was now sitting nearby and looking up at his bespoke witch with adoring eyes. Lucius had a brief, hurried conversation with Fleur and then returned to her side, leading her out of the Great Hall.


Hermione tugged against his hold on her arm, looking back over her shoulder once to where her chaperone was talking happily with the Weasley wizards. “What about Fleur?”


They were exiting the Great Hall now, and Lucius quickened his pace. He looked down at her without relinquishing his grasp, easily propelling her along with him. “What about Mademoiselle Delacour?”


“We need her with us, Lucius!” Hermione hissed, adjusting her short strides to his longer ones.


“Nonsense.” He must have realized that she was having difficulty keeping up with him, because he slowed somewhat. He released her arm and let his hand run down her back, settling just above the curve of her bum. “I promised to leave the door of my study open.”


They were moving along a familiar outer corridor now. Lucius’ hand rubbed back and forth over her lower back. Rub, rub, rub. Realization was dawning, and it was sending wave after wave of arousal coursing through her entire body. “But she . . . We . . .”

Lucius glanced down at her from the corner of his eye, his mouth twitching. “I was under the impression that someone needed a spanking very badly. Our chaperone seems to have recognized that a literal interpretation of the courtship rules will be highly inconveniencing to her at the moment. In light of the fact, she proposed a more traditional method. Have you changed your mind, pet?”


Astoria’s explanation of her own chaperone’s practices came to mind, as did the fact that Harry’s loose rules hadn’t been questioned until the trouble with Ron. She noticed they had stopped outside his study, and that he was waiting for an answer. “What? No! I want to be spanked! I mean . . . that is to say . . .” Hermione blushed deeply even as she tried to rub her slender thighs together to ease the fantastic ache that had begun. Internally, she thought, ‘I do. I still have clear idea why, but it’s true.’


Lucius leaned down and brushed his lips against her ear. “Then I suggest we stop wasting time.” He stood to his full height and backed through the doorway, jerking her along by the arm playfully.


Hermione hadn’t expected it, and gave an involuntary girlish squeal as she tumbled into his arms. Her hands landed on the firm sculpted planes of his chest to steady her forward fall, but she needn’t have bothered — Lucius’ were wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her tightly. He was leaning low again, pulling her into a tight embrace, and for some reason she thought she caught a glimpse of unshed tears in his eyes. But she was distracted by the fact that he obviously intended to kiss her, and when he finally did Hermione gasped with pleasure at the soft, loving movement of his lips. Then he broke away from her abruptly and, striding quickly to the nearest wall, punched the stone wall violently.


“Lucius!” The contrast between the kiss and his next action was so disparate that for a moment Hermione was frozen in place with shock. She crossed the room, reaching out for the hand he now held in a tight fist. “Why on earth did you-“ Hermione looked up at him with confused concern even as she fished out her wand and performed a healing charm on the cut and already bruising flesh. The curly-haired witch held his hand between hers, stroking it gently and never once looking away from his face.


It was evident that he was trying to curb his emotions. His jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbed repeatedly, and he looked everywhere but at her. Finally he took a deep breath. “I beg you, forgive me. I am not always the master of my temper.”


“Will you tell me why you’re upset, please?” Her voice sounded very small, possibly because the room was so large; it was more likely, however, it was because she had an inkling of why her wizard was angry. She ventured, “Is it because I disobeyed you again?”


Lucius looked down at her, still visibly distressed, but he gave a choked laugh and squeezed her hand in his own. “I have never been so angry in my life as when you flouted my wishes earlier this morning, insisting on subjecting yourself to needless danger. Part of me is still very angry. You could have been hurt, or worse!”


“Lucius, I’m not made of glass,” Hermione began softly, only to stop when he shook his head.


“I am not a man to be ordered about, and I do not like to be disobeyed.” He stepped closer to her, looming above her with a dark expression. His hands came up to trap her wrists, and he began walking her backward as he spoke. Her backside bumped into his desk finally, and he pressed against her until she had to arch her back in order to hold his gaze. “But somehow the fact that my bespoken one does just that,” He was leaning down, forcing her to lay back over the desk, bringing their joined hands up over her head, and his breath tickled her ear as he concluded, “causes my cock to stand to attention.” Hermione gave a quiet gasp as he nudged her legs apart with one strong thigh and brought his hips to hers, thrusting against her once, twice. “Can you feel how you affect me, my prize? Do you have any idea how much I ache for you?”


“Lucius.” She wrestled against his strong hold on her hands, wanting to wrap them around his shoulders and pull him even closer. He refused to let go. “Lucius.” Her head was filling with a heavy fog of lust, and she was just succumbing to it when a thought occurred to her. “Wait, I don’t understand. Are you mad at me for disobeying, or turned on by it?”


He narrowed his eyes and pressed his beautiful mouth into a thin line. “Both.”


Those finely formed lips weren’t made for such a severe expression; Hermione tugged and tugged until Lucius released one of her hands briefly, and she ran her thumb over his mouth, caressing it until it relaxed into its natural shape. He took hold of her hand immediately and brought it back up above her head. “Is that why you punched the wall? Because you didn’t seem mad at all before then.”


Lucius sighed heavily through his nose and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I have been holding myself together by a thread since you flounced off with your chaperone and the guards.”


“I didn’t actually flounce off! Errrrr, did I?” Hermione turned her head to catch his gaze.


He chuckled quietly. “I believe your last word to me was ‘Fine!’ and you most certainly flounced. I would know, because I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You look quite tempting in this dress.” He leaned down again and trailed his lips along her neck.


The fact that Lucius had laughed at all was reassuring to the young witch, but she clarified, “So . . . you’re not mad at me?”


“I will always be angry when you act out your Gryffindor tendencies, but I will inevitably find them arousing, and admire you for them afterward.” Lucius released his hold on her wrists and traced her face with a gentle finger, leaning his weight on his other arm. “In my mind, I know that you are an accomplished witch, and capable of defending yourself. But my heart argues that there is only one of you, and even your skills might not be enough someday. Do you have any idea how many years I protected you from our enemies while helping them plot against you? Each battle there were so many variables, so much going on all around, that I was constantly reminded of how quickly you could be taken from me and Draco – and that was before you even knew us.”


Hermione loosened the leather cord in his hair and let his long, heavy locks fall over her face. She ran her fingers over his scalp, watching his eyes close in pleasure. ‘He uses anger to fight fear, just as I do when I’m nervous,’ she thought to herself. Outwardly she said, “I’m not going anywhere, my love.” Then she sighed, “Lucius, you can’t control everything – especially all of my choices.”


He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth, sucking her lower lip between his own until she gave a little moan. “Would you be content if I promised to control only your poorer ones?”

Her reply came out as a giggle. “Lucius!”


He smiled down at her, but his eyes were still somewhat troubled. “I will not lose you, Hermione, and I make no apologies for prioritizing your safety over your immediate happiness.” He softened his words with another kiss, and this one was a patented Lucius tongueful – a push and pull of mouths that drew little noises from the back of her throat and caused her hands to fist in his hair.


They broke the kiss to catch their breath, and Hermione gasped, “Does this mean you’re going to start locking me in my room every time the Floo network is activated?”


Lucius had already begun moving his mouth along her neck again, this time in a downward pass over the curve of her left breast. “Don’t be ridiculous, pet.” His free hand slid the strap of her gown from her shoulder, baring her to his admiring gaze. “It merely means you’ll wear a locator and have extra guards from now on.”


The only sound she made in response was a strangled sort of groan, because at that point his lips wrapped around her pierced nipple and did all kinds of lovely, torturous things to it. “Nnnnnngh.”


Lucius’ hand reached around and grasped her backside, and his mouth released her tender flesh with a wet sound. He ran his nose upward over her skin until he spoke against her jaw in a silky murmur. “Do you have any idea what an enchanting creature you are, my prize?” She opened an eye and found him watching her closely. “Such a rare one – beautiful, brilliant, and headstrong.” He slid his hand lower on her bottom, pushing his fingers between her legs to rub along her seam through the delicate fabric of her gown.


“OOOh- mmmmmmm . . . Lu-“ His legs held her against the desk and her dress trapped her legs, so all she could do was squirm ineffectively under his attentions.


“I have spent the greater part of the past hour thinking about how much I would like to brand this glorious arse of yours with my handprint. And do you know why that is, pet?” He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on her bottom.


It was obvious he was waiting for an answer. Hermione tried to remember how to speak. “N-n-no.”


”Because you are a naughty witch.” Lucius spoke against her lips, kissing her with his words. “Because the thought of being disciplined by my hand has had you wet and wanting the entire time.” He pushed his hips into hers again, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. “Because that knowledge makes my cock twitch.”


It was the second time he’d spoken to her so crassly, and the bald language spoke directly to the throbbing ache in her sex. “Luciuuuusss.”


Lucius chuckled darkly as he pushed up off the desk and loomed over her. The hand that had supported him went to her breasts, and he alternated between teasing her nipples and using his grip on her arse to pull her against him in a teasing rhythm. “It seems Draco was right, and our lovely one has a predilection for coarse language. Very well, pet – perhaps you would like me to tell you what’s going to happen now.” At her eager nod, he continued, “I’m going to bare your arse and turn you over my knee, and then I’m going to give you a spanking. I’m going to place you so that every blow from my hand pushes this pretty little pussy against my thigh. You will writhe and beg for every swat. You will keep count of each strike aloud, and after each one you will thank me. If you are a good girl and remember the rules, I will give you release. Are you still certain that this is what you want?”


If he was trying to warn her away from the impending spanking, his words were having the opposite effect on the young witch. The fact that he had added rules for her to remember only heightened the effect on her body — every nerve in her body was alight, and little flames of need began licking along them. “Please, please, please . . .” He raised himself to standing, as abruptly as he had left her in the doorway to punch the wall, and Hermione jumped up after him in confusion.


Her panic dissolved when she realized he was only shedding his outer robes and then she watched in fascination as he removed his cufflinks and rolled his sleeves up over strong forearms. When he held out his hand to her, she took it eagerly, despite the fact that Lucius’ face had never been so dark. He kissed her again deeply. She was still breathless when he pulled away. “You have been teasing me all morning in this gown.” Lucius led her to his chair in his usual immaculate manner and sat down. He drew her between his legs, looking up and down her body in with burning eyes. “How does it feel, to know that I am plotting your corruption even now, my lovely one?” His fingers traced up her legs in feather-light patterns, drawing the skirt of her gown up as he held the bulk of it in handfuls at her waist. “Slide down your knickers, if you please.”


She did as she was told, dropping the scrap of lace into his expectant hand, and then he was guiding her body over his lap, just as he had described. Hermione found herself draped across his thighs, the leg nearest to Lucius on the outside of his and her other one against the inside of his knee. The angle meant that her head rested partway on the arm of the chair and partway against his side. True to his words, the position meant that every nerve ending between her legs was stimulated, and the young witch gasped. ‘Sweet Circe, this is really happening.’ The feel of Lucius’ large palm on her backside interrupted her internal monologue. He caressed the bare skin lovingly for a moment and then paused. “Hands over my thigh, and head down. Do you remember what you are to do?” He must have felt her nod against his side, because he murmured, “Are you ready?”


“Yes!” Just then Hermione caught the scent of her wizard and became so quickly lost in it that the first soft slap across her buttocks elicited a yelp of surprise from her. Recalling her instructions, she managed to gasp, “One. Thank you, Lucius.”


“Good girl.” He smoothed his hand over her bare backside, pushing her down to rub against his leg slightly. His fingertips barely brushed against the wet skin between her legs, sending goose bumps over her body. “And so wet already. By the time we have finished, you will have soaked through my trousers, pet.”


The soft wool of his trousers scraped softly against her spread outer folds and between that and his words, Hermione was distracted again. She was startled by the next slap, more so by the noise than the sensation. Quickly catching herself, she remembered to say, “Two. Thank you, Lucius.” This time when he caressed her, his fingers trailed over her seam for a slightly longer moment, and she couldn’t help but moan.


They went on like this until she had counted to ten, each slap slightly harder than the one before. Hermione realized that the harder the slap, the harder she was pushed against his leg. The harder she was pushed against his leg, the more his wool-covered leg teased her now-throbbing clitoris. She hadn’t slipped up her counting yet, nor had she forgotten to thank Lucius for each strike, and eventual orgasm was a forgone conclusion when Lucius seemed to freeze above her.


“Fucking hell . . .” He was smoothing down her dress, and pulling her up to a sitting position and explaining in a quiet, ragged voice, “Someone is coming.”


‘And it’s not me,’ Hermione thought bitterly, hiding her flushed face in the nook of Lucius’ shoulder. It was obvious that Lucius was as frustrated as she, judging by the pole lodged in his trousers and the look of annoyance on his handsome face. Suddenly Draco appeared in the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, no thanks to our preoccupied chaperone. By the looks of it, she’ll be in the Great Hall all . . . what did I interrupt?”


The moment he’d caught sight of the younger Malfoy, Lucius had begun to relax. For Hermione the next few seconds were almost surreal, as he answered in his lazy drawl, “I was giving our witch her first spanking. She’s positively wet and begging for more.” Lucius drew Hermione’s face up to his and kissed her deeply. “Care to join the lesson, Draco?”


He was crossing the room, his grey eyes darkening to a stormy shade. When he reached their fireside chair, he knelt down in front of them. “That all depends on what Hermione thinks of the idea.” He was regarding her with such intensity that she responded in kind — grabbing at the front of his robes and pulling his face to hers for a burning kiss. When they broke apart, Draco spoke against the corner of her mouth. “I’d love to.”


In just a few more seconds, she was back over her elder wizard’s lap, this time with a welcome audience. Draco’s presence only added to her aroused state. Lucius described in detail the efficacy of the position, his hands rubbing over her bared arse again, and Hermione tried to keep from writhing. He continued to speak as he had with just her, using coarse language that aroused her yet further. As before, every move she made, every flinch, caused her swollen, throbbing clitoris to rub against his hard leg. “Ah, ah, ah. No squirming, pet.”


Hermione tried to remain as still as possible, but finally the torture of delay and suspense was too much. She growled, “Enough talking, Lucius!”


He gave her no warning, and it wasn’t a gentle swat by any means. The force of the strike sent a pulse of pleasure through her entire body. “Gaaah! Eleven!” He soothed the sting with gentle caresses until she relaxed. His fingers dipped down between her legs again, drawing a moan from her. “Mmmmmmm. Thank you, Lucius.”


“Draco,” Lucius ignored her, speaking instead to her other wizard. “Don’t be rude. Talk to our witch.”


Her younger wizard’s voice was suddenly in her ear as he knelt by her head. “Oh, little witch. You like this very much, don’t you?” Without warning, another strike landed on her arse, and this one pushed her against Lucius’ leg hard enough to make her forget not to squirm, and she moved against his thigh until she remembered the rules. Draco had slipped a hand under her torso and was now fondling her breasts, his mouth pressed to her temple as he murmured, “The sight of your long, bare legs spread over his thigh, Hermione . . . you’re dripping down his leg . . . the noises you’re making . . . Merlin, sweetheart, but you’re going to be the death of me.”


So much happening simultaneously, but thankfully Hermione was the brightest witch of the age. She was able to keep track of each word and sensation, even as that increasingly familiar, all-consuming coil began winding tightly deep within her gut. “Twelve! Thank-”


Lucius was rubbing her arse again, and then as his fingers slipped through her slick folds, he joined in Draco’s conversation, “Soon there will be no restrictions on us, pet, and I will be able to do this the right way, with my fingers buried deep within this pretty pussy.” He gently pinched the hood of her clitoris, causing her to buck against his leg. The coil strained within her.


“- You, Lucius!” She groaned, turning her face into Draco’s. He caught her lips with his, pushing his tongue into her mouth with a moan.


Their kiss was broken by the next slap, which made Hermione grunt in pure pleasure. “Thirteen!” She was teetering now, ready to come apart at any time. Lucius seemed to know this somehow, because she had barely thanked him in a strained voice when he struck her again with his palm. “Oh! F-f-fourt-teen!” Every part of her seemed to be vibrating, and she realized that it was because she was trembling. Out of nowhere the next blow landed, and it pushed her over the edge of her orgasm. “Fifteen! Fifteen! Oooh, Lucius! Fifteen!” Her small cries sounded almost agonized to her own ears, and she collapsed over Lucius’ lap in a state of boneless euphoria.


After a while she felt Lucius caressing her backside, as he had between slaps. He seemed to be speaking to her, but at the moment it was just a pleasant sound. A few minutes of languor passed, in which some hands rubbed her bare skin and others ran through her curls. Finally, Hermione sighed and returned to the room. She pushed herself up to stand, steadied by her wizards. Then, she straightened her skirt, grimacing slightly when the fabric moved against her arse.


Lucius wore a faint, satisfied smirk that only broadened when she attempted to move. She shot him a withering look, made slightly less intimidating by the wince that followed it. He chuckled as he stood, and Draco followed suit.


Despite the burning of her bum, that spanking had been exactly what her imagination had promised. The pain was minor compared to the fantastic pleasure of the experience – the hour of anticipation, Lucius’ filthy seduction, and then the actual physical pleasure. ‘Merlin’s broomstick – I’m getting turned on again just thinking about it!’ Out loud she said, “Thank you, Lucius.”


“It was my pleasure, pet.” His eyes were twinkling at her in a way that made her knees weak. As one, the three moved together so that the young witch stood between the two wizards, and their arms wove around her possessively. Hermione raised her arms high to their necks, drawing them down so that she could kiss each of them. There was an erect penis pushing into either side of her, and she blushed, dropping her eyes, even as she smirked knowingly. “It seems I’m not the only one who enjoyed that.”


Lucius chuckled and Draco made a strangled sound, but just then they were interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps in the hall. “Yooohooooo! Hermione, you have five minutes to finish up your visit and meet Fleur in the Great Hall. It’s nearly nine o’clock! Time is wasting!” Molly’s voice rang out in its usual motherly tone, the one that brooked no argument, but she didn’t peek her head into the study.


Hermione sighed, falling back against Draco’s chest. She felt his hands settle on her stomach and drift upwards to her breasts. “Please tell me that the house will be empty of everyone but us after the wedding.” She tugged at Lucius’ shirt, pulling him down for one last kiss.


Her elder wizard was holding himself back. He controlled the kiss, keeping it light and breaking away far too soon for her liking, and ran his eyes up and down her figure one last time. “I assure you it will. You need to bathe, lovely one.”


It occurred to her that Lucius seemed preoccupied with the notion of getting her into a tub, but she filed that thought away for later and turned in Draco’s arms. He was impatient for his kiss. In his haste to pull her close, Draco accidentally cupped her sore buttocks in his large hands. He released her quickly when she gave a sharp hiss of pain. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart!” He looked down at her with concern and added, “You know, that can be easily sorted.”


“Oh, Draco.” She sighed his name against his lips, which were already pressed to hers. It started as a sweet promise, built quickly, and ended as all their kisses did — with both of them wrapped around each other, using their limbs as leverage to get as close to the other as possible. When they broke apart to breathe, Draco reluctantly let her go and reached for his wand.


“Absolutely not.” Lucius shook his head sternly at Draco, who shrugged in a guilty way but acquiesced with a nod. To her, the elder Malfoy said, “Do not even think about a healing charm, Hermione.”


The order rankled her, and she only narrowly avoided putting her hands on her hips. Her tone was incredulous as she asked, “Why on earth not?”


“Because I want for you to have ample time to measure the value of your freedom to make such choices against that of sitting comfortably. I will send a bottle of ointment to your room with Trinket to use after your bath.” He rolled down his sleeves and handed her his cufflinks expectantly. “And there is also the fact that my handprint is clearly visible through your dress, and I plan to admire it the entire way back to the Great Hall.”


She gaped at him for a moment and then fastened his cuffs. Honestly, she’d known all morning that the original intent of the spanking had been discipline – she’d defied Lucius openly, and this was his way of reminding her of his sovereignty. ‘Completely worth it for both of us,’ she thought smugly, ‘and a game I plan to play again just as soon as (here she winced again) I forget about the burn afterward.’ Out loud she simply said, “Yes, sir,” and helped him into his outer robes.


Just as he said he would do, Lucius followed behind Hermione and Draco all the way to the Great Hall. Her younger wizard managed to drag out the short walk impressively, even pausing several times to pull her as close as humanly possible for a quick, hungry kiss, but eventually they reached their destination. There, they separated reluctantly to help Molly separate her sons from Fleur and to hunt down Harry and his girls.


Hermione found her ‘brother’ and his witches in a small storage room off the Great Hall. Thank Merlin they had shut the door (the curly-haired witch was half-tempted to tell them how proud she was of them!), because she was sure that neither her chaperone nor Ginny’s brothers would have appreciated the show. The three of them had managed to lose at least half their clothes in the relatively short amount of time Hermione had been gone and Harry had Ginny over his knee, giving what in Hermione’s opinion was a poor imitation of a good spanking.   Luna sprawled nearby, obviously already satisfied. He finished just as Hermione approached, and she couldn’t help but critique what she’d just seen. “That’s not how Lucius does it. Ginny would enjoy it far more if you positioned her– What? And what’s with this morning’s preoccupation with spankings, anyway?”


Her three friends were looking at her with varying expressions – Ginny with interest, Harry with shock, and Luna with her usual dreamy smile. It was Ginny who finally broke the silence, answering in her usual matter-of-fact way, “All self-respecting wizards spank their witches. I always get one when I make Harry worry. And how do you know how Lucius does it?”


Hermione backed up several steps and turned to go. “Errrrr, got to go find Fleur. Are you coming or not?”


Ginny looked at Harry with a smirk. “Apparently not this time. Give me a minute to find my clothes . . .” She began sifting through the pile of garments nearby.


Harry was still regarding her with shock. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on – I wasn’t going to stay innocent forever. And if you play your cards right, I’ll show you what you’re doing wrong . . . someday.”   Ginny was pulling her shirt over her head and tucking it in with one hand while shaking her knickers right side out with the other. She was dressed and had her hair smoothed a few moments later, but Luna was still lying on the floor half-dressed. “Are you staying here, Lu?”


The sweet blonde witch beamed up at her. “I think I’ll ride Harry for a bit, but thank you for asking.” Hermione turned hastily, afraid of receiving more information, when Luna added, “Oh, my – that’s Lucius’ handprint, isn’t it! It’s so very large!”


That was enough to have Hermione bolting (albeit stiffly) from the corner, dragging Ginny with her. “See you at breakfast!”


As she was dragged along, the redhead demanded, “What handprint! So help me, you tell me what’s going on or I’ll get it from you the hard way, ‘Mione!”


They were approaching the larger group across the room at this point, and Hermione hissed, “I promise to tell you whatever you want to know in my room, but if you embarrass me down here . . .” She left the threat hanging, hoping it might be more effective that way.


Molly had just managed to extricate Fleur from her boys, and shoved her rather unceremoniously toward Hermione and Ginny. “We’ll just see you girls at breakfast! Bye-bye!” She was making furious shooing motions, while behind her Bill was all but snarling at his mother and Charlie was smirking boyishly. A quick glance showed Percy still sitting nearby, mouth till curved in an adoring smile.


Ginny muttered, “Fine. But I want to know EVERYTHING.” To Fleur she added, “I cannot even believe you were smiling at Percy.”


The trip across the Manor and up to the suite was nearly silent, between Fleur’s daydreaming and Hermione’s promise to Ginny. The moment they were through the doors, though, her friend erupted into her usual bossy, inquisitorial self. Hermione had shut it all down with one look, saying, “We have a schedule to keep. I’m getting in the tub, and I really need your help cleaning this, because I want to wear it for the rest of the day.”


Ginny was looking at the dress with a frown. “It’s lovely, but there’s nothing special about it. Surely you can-“


“No, I cannot. Can you help me, Gin? Please”


The redhead relented. “Fine, but as soon as this gown is cleaned up I’m coming in there and you’d better be ready to talk.”


Through the open door to the dressing room, she watched Ginny give the dress one last good shake, the steam cleaning charm her clever friend had used on the engagement gown complete. Hermione gave another sigh, and this time it wasn’t one of pleasure.




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