Chapter Seventy-Three: Friday/Saturday

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.

 

Without warning, Lucius gathered Hermione up in his arms as though she were a child and spun around wildly. He chuckled at her yelp of surprise and only held tighter when she tried to escape.   “Such a troublesome minx you are, always trying to escape. Are you done struggling, my prize?” He asked with a happy, boyish smirk. At her acquiescent sigh he added, “Much better. A wizard always carries his witch to their bridal chamber.” With those words he spun once more, this time in Disapparition, and took her from the glade in the middle of his forest.

 

Hermione buried her face deeply in the fragrant nook between her elder wizard’s jaw and shoulder, breathing in his scent until the world stopped spinning. When she’d recovered somewhat, she peeked out at their new surroundings. Something about the room struck her as familiar. It was a large, dimly lit bedchamber decorated in dark, rich fabrics and even darker, richer woodwork. One wall must have been comprised mainly of windows, because it was hung with drapery from floor to ceiling. The room was decorated in varying shades of deep green, with the exception of the bed sheets, which gleamed a soft gold in the candlelight. They peeked out from behind the half-drawn curtains of the enormous four-poster bed in a way that Hermione found both inviting and nerve inducing. Suddenly she realized what this place reminded her of. It’s the domestic version of his forest, she thought with delight. Lucius brought his refuge to the manor.

 

Just then she caught sight of a large painting in an ornate frame hanging above the wide, high mantel of the fireplace, its magical inhabitant seemingly elsewhere, and all thoughts of her wedding night vanished.   That’s another one of Grandpère Louis’ haunts. She could almost imagine him looking down his nose into the room as he and Lucius carried on some ribald conversation in French. Her mood shifted as she remembered exactly how much the Malfoy ancestor had seen of her already.   “Lucius?” She asked in a menacing growl as she pointed toward it.

 

He looked between her and the spot toward which she gestured with a look of puzzlement before smirking in comprehension. “He is away tonight and will not return without invitation.” In the face of her challenging glare, his usual confidence faltered and he added almost as a question, “And I will cover the frame at once?”

 

Hermione nodded firmly and watched as he did just that, relieved to have the issue resolved so quickly. Once the frame was draped in a heavy piece of fabric, however, her previous anxieties flooded back over her. The elder Malfoy took a step, causing the young witch to turn her attention once more to the bed, adrenaline pumping through her system. She was surprised when they continued past it and headed toward a door in the far wall. Her arms tightened around her wizard’s neck. “Where are we going?”

 

The door opened before them at some wandless magic on Lucius’ part. “To wash, of course,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Our feet are covered in Merlin-knows-what.”

 

It was such a mundane statement for so momentous a night that Hermione laughed aloud. She teased, “Are you saying I’m not fit for your bed, Lucius?”

 

They entered a large, opulent bathroom that put the one in Hermione’s suite to shame. He looked down at her with twinkling eyes. “On the contrary, pet; I think you are the perfect size for it.”

 

“But I’m dirty,” she goaded impishly, and with that simple exchange the fluttering in her stomach began to recede as the two fell into their pattern of effortless, playful banter. She noticed her toothbrush by the sink, and that simple homely item seemed to confirm that she was indeed meant to be here.

 

Lucius grinned and stole a kiss before setting her down on a chair near the tub. “Yes, my lovely one is a filthy witch, and I intend to restore her to her former pristine state.” He helped her out of his outer robes, which she’d been wearing since their forest trip, and hung them on a hook.

 

And then you’re going to take me to your bed and teach me to be a very, VERY dirty witch. A frisson of nerves ran along her spine at his words. Suppressing the feeling she countered, “Just feet, though. I’ve soaked and scrubbed so many times today, the mere idea of another bath makes me want to scream.” It was true; she still had a bit of water in her ears from her most recent immersion.

 

Lucius chuckled as he removed his cufflinks and rolled his sleeves up over his forearms. “As much as I anticipate your cries tonight, I prefer them to be for a different reason altogether.” He turned on the faucets, testing the water until it was to his liking, and then Summoned a shallow basin from a nearby cupboard. When it was filled with water, he placed it at her feet and reached to a nearby high shelf for towels and a flannel. Setting them down on the floor, he knelt before her. “Let me wash your feet, pet.”

 

The humility of the gesture filled Hermione’s heart with a fierce, protective love for her elder wizard. Lucius was many things: he was supremely confident, he was cunning, and he was highly intelligent. Underneath those most obvious traits, though, was a man who, once sure of the intentions of others, seemed to find great fulfillment in loving and serving unconditionally. And no one besides Draco and the Malfoy elves has ever done the same for him. I’m going to spend the rest of my life giving Lucius the love he deserves. She lifted the skirt of her silver dress and slipped her feet into the basin of warm water, watching as her eldest husband wet and lathered a flannel.

 

Lucius took one of her feet in his large hands and began washing it meticulously. “Such a little thing you are,” he mused quietly. “Your feet must be half the size of my own.” He looked up at her for a moment. “And very pretty. They were made to be admired in shoes like the ones you wore today.”

 

She blushed at the compliment and gave a self-conscious smile. “Thank you. I liked those as well.” Lucius likes my feet, and he likes them in high- Her internal monologue was cut short by the heavenly sensation of strong thumbs kneading the bottom of her foot. “Oooooh, Luuuuciuuuusss!”

 

His eyes darkened slightly, and he looked away. “Unless you would like me to stop at once, you will refrain from such teasing noises.”

 

He’s trying to help me relax. Hermione bit her lip in an effort to contain the smirk threatening to take over her entire face. “I’m sorry; it just felt sooooo gooooood.” As his hands left her foot, she begged, “For Merlin’s sake, Lucius, don’t stop!”

 

“I warned you, pet.” Lucius began his careful process on the other foot. “Merlin himself would have difficulty resisting the sounds coming from your mouth.”

 

“You’re right,” she provoked with as serious an expression as she could manage, “No more noises of pleasure from me tonight; I promise.”

 

He chuckled as he washed between her toes. “Minx.”

 

Hermione enjoyed the second half of her foot massage in relative silence, admiring the way Lucius’s hands moved gracefully over her skin. When he was done and drying her feet with one of the towels she said, “My turn.”

 

He paused with a puzzled look. “Your turn for what, pet?” Then he emptied the basin and began filling it again. “What are you doing?”

 

She had taken his previous spot on the floor. “I’m going to wash your feet, of course,” she replied in an obvious tone. “Come sit down!”

 

Lucius had frozen, filled basin in hand, and was looking at her in disbelief. “There is no need, my prize. I am quite capable of that myself.”

 

Once again Hermione’s heart was filled with that strong, wild emotion for her new husband. Let the rest of his life be full of love, she pleaded to the covenant. Let his old wounds be healed, and let me be the one to do it. Her own emotions doubled in response. You’re protective of Lucius, too, she surmised. That’s good, because I think he needs both of us. Aloud she said in a voice that brooked no argument, “Sit.”

 

He complied, brows still drawn in concern. At an imperious gesture from the young witch, he rolled up the legs of his trousers and put his feet into the basin.

 

Hermione set to work at once scrubbing the dirt from her wizard’s feet. “Mother of magic, Lucius – what have you been doing, traipsing about in a forest barefoot? Your feet are filthy!” That earned her a low chuckle. “And beautiful as well. Did you know that, Lucius?” She looked up at him with a happy smile.

 

He narrowed his eyes in a mock glare. “Beautiful is not a word one uses to describe a wizard, pet. “

 

“Oh, but you have many beautiful features.” Hermione turned her attention back to his foot. It was now clean, and she began moving her thumbs over the bottom of it in firm strokes. Time for payback, Mr. Malfoy.  “Beautiful feet, beautiful hands, beautiful-” She stole a quick look up at her wizard’s face just as he moaned quietly. “Oh, no! There will be no teasing noises out of your beautiful mouth, Lucius.”

 

“I had no idea this felt so good, otherwise I would not have been in such a hurry to stop,” he said regretfully. “Forgive me, pet.”

 

He must really be enjoying it; I don’t think he heard a word of all that. “There’s nothing to be forgiven,” she said generously. An image of the two of them sitting on the fireside couch in his study, her feet in his very capable hands, came to mind and she added, “But you’re welcome to make it up to me any time you like.” She moved on to his other foot, jumping slightly when his hand brushed over her head.

 

“My own sweet witch,” he murmured. “How is it you know me so well?” He leaned forward and curled his fingers around her neck, tracing her necklace with his thumb.

 

Hermione finished her task and moved the basin aside, toweling off his feet lovingly. On impulse she bent low and pressed her lips tenderly to the top of one of them. Then she moved so that she was no longer sitting on her calves, but kneeling between his long legs. She rested her head on his knee and looked up at him with a grin. “I have been called the brightest witch of the age.”

 

“And for good reason.” Lucius traced over the rune on her forehead. “This one is Wisdom, is it not?” He pulled back his hand and studied his fingers. “The paint is sticky; perhaps you would care to wash it off.”

 

Hermione wrinkled her nose and nodded. “I should. It smelled like berries when it was wet, and plant-based dyes are often permanent. I’d hate for it to stain the sheets.”

 

The expression on his face morphed to one of intense interest. “I wonder,” he said in a speculative tone and leaned down to kiss the mark. He pulled back, licked his lips, and smiled wickedly. “Oh, pet,” he crooned darkly, “This paint is meant for something else entirely.” He leaned down again and flicked his tongue over the same spot.

 

She gasped quietly. Sweet Circe, I should have seen that coming. Molly used edible paint – well, of course she did – and now I’m going to have every bit of Wisdom, Devotion, Strength, Life, and Desire licked off my body. Oh, yes. Yes, please. She sat up on her knees, face tilted upward to him. Then, on the off chance he hadn’t seen the others through her transparent gown she clarified, “There are others, too.”

 

Wisdom was removed as she knelt between his thighs. More. Between each lave Lucius kissed the wet skin and murmured things that caused her knees to grow weak. Fortunately he seemed to be aware of his effect on her, because he held her in place with one strong arm. When the rune was gone he pressed his berry-flavored mouth to hers and applied the same care to her lips and tongue. Finally he pulled back, his heavy-lidded eyes dipping to the partially exposed rune on her chest. “What other runes do you bear, sweetling?”

 

She smiled cheekily, basking in her wizard’s heady brand of confidence. “Strength, Devotion, Life, and Desire. And Lucius,” she added, looking up at him through her lashes, “They’re all very, very sticky. You’ll help me with them, won’t you?”

 

He gave a low hum of amusement and stood, pulling her against him and bending her backward over his supporting arm. “It would be rude of me to do otherwise.” Then leaning low, he ran his nose over the swells of her breasts. “This comes off now,” he murmured against her collarbone. He tugged loose the stays of her beautiful wedding dress. “Lovely as it is, there is something far lovelier beneath.”

 

She raised her hands above her head as he lifted the ethereal dress from her body, watching through a large mirror as he laid it reverently over the back of the chair and came to stand behind her. Her breath came quickly and every part of her leaned back toward him in anticipation. More.

 

Hands falling to her hips, his eyes traveled over her bare form almost languidly, starting at her feet. He followed the lines of Desire up her right leg slowly, fingers tightening reflexively on her flesh before one hand slipped forward to cup her mound possessively. His gaze continued over her abdomen to her breasts, where it brought her shielded nipples to tight peaks. He closed his eyes for several seconds, the muscles of his jaw flexing, and when he opened them again he said hoarsely, “I could die a happy man at this moment.”

 

Oh, no you don’t. Don’t you dare do anything of the sort after you’ve begun winding me up! I’ve got more runes that need to be licked off, for starters. Hermione lifted her arms up and over her head to wrap around his neck. She gave a small, involuntary whimper as she watched his hands begin to move upward.

 

He didn’t touch her breasts, even though she pushed them out in shameless offering. Instead Lucius held her in place with one large hand splayed across her stomach. With the other he lifted the waterfall of curls off her neck, using the handful as leverage to bend her to his will, and Strength was eliminated with tender diligence before they ever left the luxurious bathroom.

 

It became obvious to Hermione that her wizard was holding himself back. She felt it each time he leaned low to move his mouth along her shoulders and his hard shaft brushed against her backside. She recognized it in the way his hand trembled slightly against her lower ribs. She sensed it as his breath fell in quick, shallow bursts on her neck, and in the way his lips and tongue moved over her skin far, far too slowly. The heat of Lucius’ carefully controlled want spread to her own body, lighting a spark deep in her gut, and by the time he finished with Strength she was on fire. The moment he released her, Hermione turned toward him. “More,” she breathed.

 

Lucius spanned her back with one hand and gripped her bare backside with the other, pulling her close to him. He gave her another eye-crossing, berry-flavored kiss that was slightly less controlled than the last. When they broke apart to breathe, he released her and traced the rune on her breast. “And what is this one called, pray tell?”

 

Hermione had already unbuttoned his handsome waistcoat and pushed it off his shoulders. Now she shifted her attention to his cravat and shirt, sending shirt studs skittering across the tiled floor around them. The shirt followed suit, falling down to catch around his elbows, as she looked up at him breathlessly. “It’s called Devotion.”

 

He kissed her again, devouring her mouth as slowly and sensuously as he had Strength. “Then I shall continue with Devotion.”   He crouched slightly and gently sank his teeth into her shoulder, at the same time removing her rune shields. The delayed gratification of his thumbs finally rubbing over her aching nipples elicited a gasp of pleasure from her.

 

She groaned, still lightheaded from his thorough kiss, and twined his long queue of hair around her fingers. “I’m not nervous anymore, Lucius. Don’t hold back.”

 

Lucius’ lips curved into a broad smile against her skin. “Hush, Wife.” He licked a wet path over the soft, lush, painted skin of her breast and wrapped his hands around her hips, and Devotion was gone by the time he’d backed her across the bedroom and against the side of the bed.

 

Life was savored with long, languorous strokes after Lucius laid Hermione down on the cool silk sheets. He kissed a path from her chin down between her breasts, pausing to tease their peaks with his clever mouth before continuing on to the rune on her abdomen. There he froze for the space of a few heartbeats, staring at the mark with burning eyes. Covering her stomach with one large hand reverently, he whispered, “Life.” Then he broke out of his daze and proceeded to run his lips and tongue over her painted abdomen until she writhed under his touch.

 

Hermione’s body was ablaze. The spark of desire Lucius had lit only minutes before had been fed by every one of his words and touches, and now burned through her system like Fiendfyre. It licked along her limbs and raged deep in her gut. She tried to wrap her legs around him, tried to bring his body down to hers to relieve the hot ache he had instigated. When that didn’t succeed she attempted to wriggle her hand between their torsos to the fastenings of his trousers. She was stopped almost immediately both times. “Lucius,” she moaned.

 

“Patience, my prize.” Lucius reached back and trailed a hand over the last remaining rune. “We should cast a contraceptive charm now if that is what you wish.” His voice was rough with want, but his tone was one of reluctance.

 

Hermione’s mind filled with images of her elder wizard holding a child with blonde curls and blue eyes. Inwardly she sought out the family magic. Just to be clear: I want that, too, but AFTER I have Lucius and Draco all to myself for a bit. The covenant exuded smugness as it stretched lazily and settled back down in its usual spot, curled around the edges of her awareness. Oh, for Merlin’s sake – you’re saying I’ll get pregnant when I’m supposed to get pregnant, aren’t you! It’s a good thing I’m too busy to argue with you right now, or- She was distracted by her husband’s hand, which was tracing a ticklish line ever higher on her right thigh. Outwardly she gave a small whine of pleasure and nodded. “For now.”

 

Lucius leaned down to kiss her hungrily, pressing his palm once more to her abdomen. The incantation he breathed against her lips caused her midsection to become warm and suffused in golden light for the space of a few seconds. His eyes were ablaze with emotion when he opened them. “I promised I would read my list to you tonight. Do you remember?”

 

The list he began writing as a boy, she remembered distractedly. The one in which he listed the qualities of his ideal witch. “Of course, my love,” she panted.

 

He dropped a series of lingering kisses from the corner of her mouth to the shallow valley between her breasts, pausing with a regretful sigh, “I should get it and do so before we continue.” His nose nudged the swell of one breast, his lips wrapping around its tight peak for one brief second.

 

Hermione made a noise of frustration. The idea had been so romantic when he’d told her about it yesterday, but now it was simply another roadblock between her and what she needed! I’m going to spontaneously combust on my wedding night. She came to her senses finally, holding him in place by twining his long queue of hair tightly around one hand. “What if I told you I memorized the whole beautiful thing and could recite it backward to you?” she asked breathlessly. “It was far too lovely to be forgotten.” Plus, I have a prodigious memory.

 

Lucius let out a relieved-sounding breath. “That is sufficient for me.” He looked up at her contemplatively for the space of a heartbeat. “Perhaps later . . .” Then he slunk gracefully down her body until he lay with his head between her knees, and Desire was slowly sucked and nibbled from the length of her right leg. His pace up her thigh was agonizing, and he held her firmly in place with his hands as he used his lips, his teeth, and his tongue to clean her skin and slowly drive her mad.

 

When at last his lips brushed the ticklish crease where her leg and torso joined, she yelped and begged for his torture to end. “No more, Lucius! No more teasing!” She pulled a pillow under her head so that she could see what he was doing.

 

Lucius hummed against that same spot. “I would give you pleasure before I take mine, but you must lie still. Can you do that, my Wife?” His tongue darted out as if to test her control.

 

Hermione pulled another pillow under her head and growled, “I will give you until the count of three, and then I will hex y- Oooooh, Luuuuciuuuusss!”

 

He looked up from where he’d moved his mouth and hands, smiling smugly at her. “Begin your pretty noises, my love.” Then he returned to his previous actions, only this time he spread her wet folds with his fingers while he used his tongue and lips to find every nerve ending along her seam. Lucius lapped, he suckled, he divided his attentions between her clitoris and that one place that had been forbidden to this point, until Hermione forgot his one command and pushed back against his face seeking more pressure, more friction. He seemed to have forgotten, too, because her actions made him moan against her wet flesh. “Such a good girl you are, and so wet for me.”

 

At least, that’s what she thought he said. The now-familiar coil had begun winding deep in her gut, and she gave it her complete focus, willing it to completion. A light sweat broke out over her skin, her heart raced, and she held her breath, arching her body for what it now demanded. “Please, please, please, Lucius!” When it seemed as though she would be reduced to ashes by her wizard’s fire, the coil reached its maximum capacity for tension. Her body froze, immobile on the edge of that release, and she opened her eyes to see Lucius lift his face from between her legs.

 

He looked at her with dark eyes, his own face damp with sweat. “Does that please you, pet?” His voice was tender and hoarse all at the same time. He put a hand where his mouth had just been, and one finger began a familiar rhythm. Rub, rub, rub. “Come for me, my prize.”

 

“Nnnnngh,” she strained, choking on the sound.

 

He pushed his finger gently into her opening and started a second pattern of sensation. Push, pull, push, pull. “Come for me, little love. Give me your release.” His thumb bore down on her clitoris at the same time and flicked over it again and again, drawing the coil impossibly tighter. “Come, Hermione.”

 

As if it had been waiting for that specific command, her body unfroze and the coil released, and Hermione cried out her husband’s name like an exultant proclamation. She sank back onto the pillows, adrenaline zinging through her system.

 

Lucius raised his handsome head, licking his lips in smug satisfaction. Then he stood from the bed, much to Hermione’s confusion.

 

“What are you doing?” she managed to murmur in her boneless state.

 

He pulled off his shirt where it hung from one elbow, letting it fall to the floor, and brought his hands to the front of his trousers. One eloquent eyebrow quirked.

 

Oh. OH. She sat up and leaned on an elbow, watching as the fingers that had just caused her to come undone did the same to a button and zipper. Her eyes followed the drop of the soft wool fabric, returning up the length of Lucius’ long, well-shaped legs to the tented pair of dark silk boxers. She watched him take those off as well, the sight of his proud erection bringing with it the memory of having taken its length and girth into her mouth only the night before. Her mouth dropped open unconsciously.

 

Lucius was slinking over the bed now, returning to her. He paused when he was kneeling between her legs, looking down at her on all fours. “Will you have me now, Wife?”

 

She held out open arms to him in answer, drawing him down to cover her with his warm weight. Her hands wound around his neck, fingers working his thick, pale hair out of its black ribbon until it dropped like a curtain around their faces.

 

He kissed her as he lifted one of her legs and wrapped it over his hip. “Such a little thing you are,” the words fell on her lips like silk, “And yet bespoke for me.” He ran the tip of his shaft along her slick folds, coating it in her arousal fluid before pushing it slightly against her virginal opening. “And after this one time, there will only ever be pleasure between us.”

 

Hermione looked up at her wizard. Despite his gentle tone, his expression was tense – almost distressed. He still thinks of me as fragile. That’s rather adorable. She smoothed a hand over his cheek and squeezed her leg where it hooked over his. “Stop stalling.”

 

At her encouragement Lucius caught her mouth with his and surged forward, pushing into her until they were joined as wizard and Wife.

 

First there was a sharp sting that wouldn’t go away. Merlin above and Circe below, that hurts! The young witch’s breath caught, her eyes squeezed shut, and for a fleeting second her brain offered refuge from the pain in the form of linguistic analysis. So that’s where that expression comes from. I sincerely doubt Merlin was as big as Lu- She was returned to the moment as the sting morphed into a searing internal burn. Hermione barely managed to swallow back the cry of discomfort that sprang from her lungs, and in the end it came out as a sort of yip against her husband’s lips. Taking a cautious breath, she sneaked a peek up at Lucius and saw that he wore an expression similar to hers. Except he’s not in pain; he’s trying to control himself. The knowledge that he was still concerned for her wellbeing despite his obvious want and need enabled her to say in an impressively strong tone, “I’m fine, Lucius.”

 

Fucking hell,” he murmured under his breath. Aloud he countered, “What you are is incredibly tight.” He squeezed shut his eyes and swallowed thickly. “If you need time to-”

 

The sensation was one of immense fullness and she wondered, were she to press her hand against her stomach, if she would be able to feel him within her. She refrained, suspecting it wasn’t the best time to satisfy her curiosity. Instead, Hermione stretched to kiss his jaw and attempted to allay his fears once more. “I will give you until the count of three, and then I will- Mmmmph!”

 

Halfway through her threat Lucius began a slow, steady push-pull of movement. Beneath Hermione’s tensed fingers his broad shoulders trembled and glistened with sweat, and between her thighs his hips shook as they rocked back and forth. He’s still holding back.

 

After a few long minutes her body began adjusting to his intrusion. The sting and burn faded, along with the feeling of being stretched beyond capacity. She curled her other leg up around his corresponding hip, allowing him to sink even deeper inside of her. “There, do you see?” she murmured with relief. “We fit perfectly.”

 

“Hermione.” Lucius groaned her name low and long, along with a litany of other barely intelligible words, and the sound vibrated through his chest and into her own. “I want . . . so fucking tight . . . I can’t . . . and wet, so wet . . . I need . . .” The pace and strength of his thrusts increased and became more erratic.

 

I’ve reduced him to this state. Hermione reveled in the power she seemed to hold over her new husband, especially as the now forceful push-pull of his much larger frame coaxed the promise of future pleasure out of her. She concentrated on his movements, mimicking them until at some point the combined rhythm of their bodies became almost seamless, and time passed in a series of masculine groans and feminine gasps. She began to acquire confidence. Molly was right; each new thing builds on what we’ve done before! The next time we do this-

 

That tantalizing thought was interrupted as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter, thrust into her almost savagely, and made a choking sound against her temple. He stilled above her for a second before slumping over her in a satisfying armful of sated, sweaty Lucius.

 

Hermione hummed contentedly, squeezing her limbs around him for a second and kissing his shoulder. His inherent scent was mixed with the salt of sweat, and she couldn’t resist stealing a taste with the tip of her tongue. I just had sex with Lucius.

 

They were still joined together when he rolled them both to their sides and pulled her head against his warm, damp chest. He sighed into her hair and began thrusting slowly into her again, grasping her backside firmly with one large hand.

 

I just had sex with Lucius. And I think a certain part of me has the bruises to prove it. She winced, feeling distinctly skewered by his . . . for Circe’s sake she was a married woman now; surely she should be able to think the word ‘cock’ without hesitation! She could feel it within her, still erect, and realized he was ready for another round of lovemaking. She tipped back her head and looked up at her handsome husband with trepidation. Perhaps I am just a bit fragile after all. Her brain whirred as a lightning bolt of thought occurred to her. Sweet mother of Merlin, I just had sex with Lucius. She chewed on her lip nervously. Was it what he expected? He hasn’t said anything. Was he dissatisfied the first time? Is that why he wants to do it again so quickly? Why didn’t the textbooks cover this?!

 

“I can hear your brain working away, pet,” he said slowly, using his grip on her arse to pull her yet further down on his erection.

 

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye nervously, “Errrrrr.”

 

Lucius tugged her head back with a loose handful of hair. “I hope you will forgive my performance,” he said in a quiet, earnest tone, “But I overestimated my self-control.”

 

“W-w-what?” Hermione frowned in confusion.

 

“I had no intention of finishing so quickly that you had no time to join me,” he explained, rubbing his mouth against the corner of hers. “This time will be different.”

 

Good and gracious Merlin, his ego is involved in this somehow. Hermione shook her head firmly. “Lucius, I was worried that you might be, you know . . .” when he didn’t seem to comprehend she offered with a blush, “Disappointed. With me. And now I’m worried because I might not be ready to do it again quite so soon, even though you’re obviously . . .” She shifted slightly and winced again.

 

Comprehension dawned across his face, and Lucius carefully withdrew from her body. “It seems I have yet more forgiveness to beg.” He ran a hand down her torso to the join of her legs and cupped her mound as he had earlier. “Not only would I have hurt you beyond what was necessary, but I made you feel inadequate.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he continued, “Disappointed? Is that what you thought?” He kissed her tenderly. “On the contrary, Hermione; never have I craved so intensely, and never have I been satisfied so completely before tonight.” He breathed an apologetic-sounding laugh. “I embarrassed myself like a greedy nineteen-year-old boy.”

 

There was a light tingling sensation between her legs which could only mean he was performing a wordless, wandless healing charm. She regarded him with a loving gaze, realizing that Lucius was every bit as insecure a lover as she in that moment. I’ll talk to him about everything, she resolved, and listen closely for the things he doesn’t say aloud. “Thank you; that feels much better already. And I happen to be quite fond of nineteen year old boys,” she quipped lightly with a yawn. The length of this intense day was catching up with her finally. “Oof! Where are we going now?”

 

Her husband had slid from the bed and scooped her up in his arms, a serene look on his handsome face. “To wash and find you a mild pain potion.” At a dismissive noise from her, he added, “This nineteen year old boy would very much like for you to be ready and willing for more as soon as possible.”

 

They removed the traces of their first lovemaking from each other’s bodies with attentive hands, Lucius’ characteristic confidence in his naked form leaching into Hermione. Still, when they were done and she’d taken the potion handed to her, Hermione gently but firmly pushed her husband out of the bathroom, saying, “I have to pee, Lucius, and I’m not quite ready for you to watch that.” She took the time also to wash her face and brush her teeth, all the while regarding her reflection intently. I look different. Her skin was flushed, her hair wild, but it was the new gleam of knowledge in her eyes that held her attention. I look like I just had sex with Lucius. Will it be noticeable to anyone else?

 

Lucius seemed to think so as they traded places moments later. He leaned low, still very much naked and aroused, and ran his hands over her torso. “You look like a freshly plucked rose, pet,” he murmured against her ear. “Now go climb into my bed and wait for me there.”

 

The moment her head hit the pillow, though, her eyes fell shut heavily, and she was only vaguely aware of being pulled into a loving embrace against a hard, warm body shortly afterward.

 

Hermione’s dreams were especially vivid that night, and in them she and Lucius made love shamelessly in a hundred different places and positions under the waxing moon. The most intense of all came at the end . . .

 

She lay on her side under the ancient oaks in the Malfoy forest, her eldest husband behind her, keening with pleasure at his ardent touches. The dead leaves beneath them were soft as silken sheets, and the air carried the scent of her war stake. Lucius’ fingers plucked ceaselessly at her aching nipples and his mouth latched onto her neck as he held her tightly against his torso, one leg thrust between hers and his cock deep inside of her. Hermione pushed her backside into his groin with each languorous push he made, chasing an orgasm that promised to raze the forest around them, when he froze behind her. “Lucius!” she wailed, urging him to continue his pleasing movement.

 

Hands were trailing along her stomach, rousing her from slumber. “Hermione,” came Lucius’ sleep-infused voice from behind her.

 

The young witch woke slightly in the dimly lit room. Her body was singing with desire, and she willed herself back to that dream-place even as she became aware that one of her husband’s heavy arms pinned her to his chest, and that his leg was wedged between hers. Just like my dream, she thought as she drifted off again. I can almost imagine that he’s inside me right now.

 

Lucius shifted behind her again, and the motion jarred her awake in the most pleasurable of ways. An accompanying lightning bolt of thought struck her brain. That was no dream. Her eyes flew open as she took careful stock of the situation. They lay back to front, limbs intertwined, her husband’s hands fondling her breasts and seam, and his cock most certainly planted deep within her.

 

“Lucius,” she breathed, pushing her backside against his groin in attempt to make him move again. “Please don’t stop.”

 

He sighed deeply against the top of her head and surged forward inside her again. “Tell me this isn’t just another dream.”

 

Hermione moaned wantonly when he began tugging and twisting her nipples again. “It’s real,” she gasped, now wide-awake. “Nnnngh!”

 

Lucius pressed the heel of his hand against her clitoris as he started a rhythm of harder, faster thrusts, each of which drew a noise of pure pleasure from her. He lowered his mouth to her neck, to the same spot where it had been in her dream, and began speaking softly. “I dreamed I was fucking you in my rose garden, pet, in the heat of the afternoon sun. You were wet and wanting, and I took you just like this.”

 

Her husband’s words, spoken in a voice that dripped with sex and sleep, only heightened the effect of their lovemaking, and Hermione felt the fantastic orgasm she’d dreamed about approaching quickly.

 

He moved his mouth to the sensitive spot below her ear “Would you like that? To be wanted without patience and taken with even less?”

 

Hermione raised her hands up behind her head and wound her fingers into his long, loose hair, tugging at it distractedly in her state of imminent ecstasy. “Yes,” she sobbed, “Yes!”

 

Lucius was trembling all around her now, and she felt him break into a sweat as he bit out between clenched teeth, “Come with me, sweet witch,” he crooned, his movements now jerky. “Come on my cock and milk me of my seed.”

 

Perhaps it was this change in motion, or his filthy words of love, or the knowledge that she was causing her wizard to lose control again, but it didn’t matter in that moment. Suddenly she bucked in his embrace and cried out as her entire being exploded into long, sharp, glittering pieces of sensation. She felt Lucius arch against her, felt his hands clenching her flesh, and then a pulse and surge within her as he found his own release.

 

They fell asleep shortly after that, slumbering peacefully in each other’s arms until the soft light of dawn fell across their faces and the smell of a hot breakfast wafted through the air. Hermione stirred first. She extricated herself from Lucius’ embrace and turned toward the source of the light. The wall that had been previously covered in drapery was now bared of its heavy fabric covering, and a small table had been set in front of it and laden with covered dishes. A sideways peek toward Louis’ empty picture frame proved he’d kept his word.

 

The young witch eased herself out of the enormous bed carefully in an effort not to wake her husband, pausing when she realized she had nothing to wear nearby. Finally she picked up his shirt from the floor and slipped it on, frustrated to find it had no fasteners. And that’s the trouble with shirt studs, she thought with a grimace, they’re too easily scattered over the bathroom floor in the heat of passion. She wrapped the oversized garment around her and went in search of her wand.

 

Several minutes later Hermione emerged from the bathroom, having decided that breakfast was far more important than a shower. Instead, she’d relieved her bladder, brushed her teeth and pinned her wild mane of curls in a knot secured with her wand; at the last minute she exchanged Lucius’ shirt for an equally big silk robe that was hanging by the shower stall. Then, wrapping the large garment around her and tying it securely, she made a beeline for the table and began piling a plate high with mouthwatering food. Merciful Merlin, she thought as she practically inhaled a rasher of bacon, sex helps work up an appetite!

 

She wandered to the window, plate in hand, and looked out at its impressive vista. Lucius’ room must have been several floors above the morning room, for below was the labyrinth and the lovely tree-lined path which led to it. Beyond was another series of gardens, and after that cultivated fields following the curve of the river.

 

She was so completely absorbed by both the delicious food on her plate and the scene before her that she only partially processed the sounds of Lucius rising and padding toward the bathroom behind her.

 

Sometime later there was a sudden whisper of movement behind her, and a large hand neatly caught the plate she almost whipped at him in alarm. Another curled around her waist as lips brushed against her ear. “Good morning, Wife.”

 

Hermione gave a hum of amusement. “You nearly had egg on your face, Lucius.”

 

“What were you thinking about so intently, pet?” Lucius set the plate on the nearby table and ran his mouth along the edge of her necklace, crouching to press his torso firmly against hers.

 

“This and that,” she answered vaguely, finding it difficult to concentrate when his lips tickled along her collarbones. She lifted a half-eaten strawberry toward her neck in offering. “Are you hungry?”

 

He smiled against her shoulder. “Very. But first I have something for you.”

 

Yes, I can feel it poking into my bum. “Oh, really.”

 

Lucius chuckled and swatted her backside gently. “Such impudence for so early in the morning. Wait here.”

 

The simple action, coupled with the memory of being spanked over Lucius’ knee just two days ago, sent a rush of arousal fluid outward from her core. Hermione squirmed at the sensation and tried to think of something less stimulating. She turned as he stepped away, shocked to realize he’d been pressed against her naked during their brief exchange. Another wave of wetness flooded her seam, and a frisson of desire ran along her nerve endings at the sight of his toned body. That beautiful backside is mine to admire. And pinch. She grinned at the thought of doing just that to her dignified elder husband even as she watched his actions with lusty admiration.

 

Lucius had taken something small – it fit into his closed fist, she could see – from a drawer in his bedside table and was now returning to her, confidence screaming in his every movement. He smirked when he caught her ogling him, and said as he reached her side again, “Do you see something you like, pet?” He leaned down to her height, kissing her so thoroughly that Hermione never noticed when he untied her robe and slid it off her shoulders, nor pulled her wand from her hair and set it down on the table beside them.

 

She shivered as he pulled away slightly, realizing what he’d done and blushing as his eyes traveled over her bare form. It was one thing to end up undressed in the throes of passion, but another thing altogether to simply stand nude in the light of day. Her hands came up reflexively to cross over her breasts.

 

Lucius took her hands in his and drew them behind her back, holding them there loosely in one large hand. “What is it you have to hide, my prize?” Now the fingers of his free hand followed the path of his eyes, smoothing up her thigh, dipping into her drenched folds. “Certainly not these pretty round tits,” he mused as he brought his now-wet fingers up to one nipple and smeared the fluid over her tight peak, licking it clean with one slow lap of his tongue. “Or the fact that your pussy is dripping for me.” He repeated the action on the other breast.

 

Hermione pushed into his teasing touch, quickly forgetting her former insecurity. “N-n-nothing,” she stammered, trying to form coherent sounds. “N-n-no hiding, Lucius. O-o-o-o-h!” She pulled her hands free and brought them to his head, tangling her fingers in his loose hair to hold him where he was.

 

Lucius had other plans, it seemed. He stood to his full height, grinning wolfishly at her growls of protest and sucking his fingers clean. Then he opened his other hand, revealing an intricately cut platinum charm. “This is yours, Madame Malfoy.”

 

It was the family crest he’d shown her the previous morning. Hermione reached out and ran a finger over its ornate edges. He was marking her again, but in that moment all the young witch could think was, I’m a Malfoy now, and the whole world will know it. It was a satisfying thought. “Put it on me, Lucius,” she breathed with a happy smile, and when he’d complied she added in a bossy tone, “Now kiss me.”

 

The elder Malfoy wizard chuckled, leaning to press his lips to the charm now hanging from her choker. “Yes, my lady.” He gave a low hum of approval and raised his eyes to hers. “You belong to me, now.”

 

A few weeks ago the archaic turn of phrase would have sent her into a tizzy, and she would have felt the need to assert her independence immediately. Now, though, she recognized it for what it was: a declaration of utter devotion and love. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and pulled his face to hers. “You belong to me, as well.”

 

“Unreservedly and forever. You, Madame Malfoy, own every piece of me; mind, heart, and body.” With each of those words, he pressed her hand to the corresponding part of him; first his forehead, then his chest, and finally he wrapped her hand around his erection. Then he mated his mouth to hers and kissed her cross-eyed and breathless.

 

Hermione sighed against his lips, hoping this was going where she thought it was. Please let this involve intense amounts of mutual physical gratification. Her hands made their way once more to his thick, pale hair in an attempt to keep him right where he was.

 

Lucius knelt in front of her, pulling her down slowly to straddle his folded legs and catching one tight peak in his mouth. When she mewled and squirmed in response, he lifted her by her hips and set her down again, this time impaling her core on his long, hard shaft. He released his latch on her breast with a groan. “I need you, Wife. Will you have me?”

 

Hermione’s head fell back at the feeling of being joined with him once more. I think it’s a bit late to ask. “Yeeeeeessssss.” But, OH! Yes, please!

 

They shared a slow, burning kiss, flexing their hips against each other tentatively in this new position for a minute. Hermione unconsciously dug her fingernails into his shoulders, causing Lucius to snarl against her lips and fall forward, pinning her beneath him on the carpeted floor.

 

It was their most aggressive lovemaking so far. Lucius drew one of her legs up by the knee and threw it over his forearm, holding her in place with his hands curled over her shoulders. He set a nearly punishing pace and drove into her mercilessly with each forward thrust, forcing a grunt of pleasure from Hermione with each one.

 

For her part, Hermione responded with equal ferocity. She arched into her husband’s firm body, fighting to release the coil he’d already begun winding within her. Her fingernails raked down the skin of his back before finding purchase in his buttocks, and she met his hungry kisses with a matching appetite. Almost unconsciously, she fought to flip them, succeeding for the space of a few heartbeats only to be firmly pinned back down under Lucius’ much bigger body. And when he seized her hands in one of his and held them above her head, using his other to pluck at her left nipple in an exquisitely torturous manner as he ground his hips against hers one final time, Hermione clamped her teeth down on a mouthful of muscular shoulder.   They cried out their mutual release, gasping for breath as languor began creeping into their sated bones.

 

Lucius withdrew from her and rolled so that she lay splayed over his torso, her legs hanging over his hips. He ran his hand over her hair in a soothing way for a long time. Finally she raised her head to look at him. “Hmmmmmm.” It was the best she could manage, but he seemed to understand.

 

He gave a sleepy, boyish grin. “My kitten becomes a wildcat in bed.”

 

Hermione started to argue that they weren’t, in fact, in a bed, when she spied two perfect rows of dental imprints in her husband’s shoulder. “I bit you!” She cried in surprise. “Oh, my love, I bit you! I’m so sorry; let me heal it.” She struggled to rise and get her wand.

 

Lucius only held her tighter and laughed out loud. “Leave it be. I’ll have something to brag about later on.”

 

“I really bit you,” she reiterated, slightly confused. “It’s already bruising, and will probably hurt.”

 

He sat up, bringing her with him, and pulled her to tightly straddle his hips. “Love bites are even better than battle scars, pet,” he explained in a smug tone. “And wizards bear them proudly. Next time perhaps you’ll mark me in a more visible place.”

 

Hermione contemplated this new idea quietly, all the while tracing the deep indentations of her teeth in her husband’s skin. Lucius just used two different contractions. It takes sex for him to talk in vernacular. I know this because Lucius and I just had sex. Again. And he likes it a little rough. The last thought brought a secret smile to her lips. I think I might, too. Aloud she said in a quiet, curious tone, “Is it always as good as it’s been so far?”

 

Lucius smiled languidly and pulled her impossibly closer. “That is my sincerest wish, and I look forward to having it fulfilled.” His eyes twinkled in the pale morning light. “You might be the death of me, Madame Malfoy.”

 

Hermione leaned her head against his broad shoulder and smiled lazily, enjoying the feel of his strong embrace. “Oh, I’ll be sure to keep that from happening; after all, I want to have you around for a very long time.” I think married life is going to agree with me.

 

“Excellent.” He lifted her from his lap and stood, drawing her up as well. “Now come, sit on your husband’s lap and be fed by his hand. You’re going to need sustenance for what he has planned for you this morning.”

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Hermione sprawled on her side across the bed in a boneless heap, the morning having been spent in relentless pursuit of pleasure; Lucius was a generous lover and determined, it seemed, to wear her out with mind-blowing sex. At this point it was all she could do to keep her eyes uncrossed. When she had recovered enough to focus her pupils, she looked at the well-toned wizard leaning on one elbow beside her. Reaching her fingers to brush against the dark blond hair that lightly covered his chest, she murmured, “So that’s wand play.”

 

He pulled her against him and chuckled, and the vibrations of that sound traveled intimately from his body to hers. “Indeed. Tell me, pet, did you enjoy it?” His hands ran over the bare skin of her back in teasing patterns, and if she hadn’t been so utterly tired, she would have broken out into goose bumps.

 

“Very much so.” Hermione drew back from him slightly and raised her head, propping it on one hand. “Could I do that to you as well?”

 

“No,” he answered firmly, communicating the absoluteness of that answer with his eyes as well.

 

Lucius fears lack of control, she mused inwardly. It made sense, given his past, though Hermione couldn’t help but grieve that his sense of trust had been violated so much over the course of his life. Her heart squeezed tenderly at the thought. Perhaps in time he’ll find that it isn’t so terrifying to give his trust to the right person, and until then he can have mine. And I’ll let him boss me around. Within reason. Aloud she teased, “Oh, fine, Mr. Bossy Pants. I promise never to attempt controlling you sexually – or any other way – with magic.”

 

His smirk grew wider. “I quite enjoy the magic of your mouth and hands, not to mention that of your tight, wet-” Lucius broke off and brushed one finger over her lips gently, his mood swinging abruptly. “You have no idea, do you? The use of magic on your part would be superfluous. With every look, every movement, every word you command me, Hermione. I am yours completely.”

 

The young Wife fell silent in the wake of those powerful words, wondering if perhaps her elder husband knew more about trust than she’d thought. Finally she settled for bending to press her lips to the swell of chest muscle laying over his heart and then curling her body against his. They lay like that for some time, until Hermione sighed and stretched, saying, “This has been a very enlightening honeymoon so far, I must say. Every one of my muscles feels educated.” Suddenly she flinched and seized her leg, rubbing it furiously. “Owowow! Charlie horse!”

 

Lucius, of course, found this amusing, and was almost on the receiving end of his new Wife’s ire when he redeemed himself by massaging the cramp out of her leg with skilled hands. He chuckled at her loud, appreciative groans of relief. “Tell me what you have learned, pet.”

 

It was difficult to think about anything other than his therapeutic touch, but at last she regained brain function.   Then, biting back the smile that threatened to overtake her face, she answered, “That shower sex is every bit as fun as people say; that carpet burns can be worthwhile; and that Lucius Abraxas Malfoy is a cuddler.”

 

He loomed above her with narrowed eyes. “I am not.” He pushed his thumbs deeply into her calf muscle as if to reiterate that point.

 

“Yes, Lucius, you are,” she teasingly persisted, “You are a very cuddly wizard.” She leaned into him, nuzzling her nose against his chest. “And I like it very much.”

 

 

His expression softened marginally, but his tone was unyielding. “As far as the rest of the world knows, I kiss, I touch, and I fuck, but never anything so effeminate as . . . cuddling.” He seemed to have difficulty even saying the word.

 

I could probably extort something impressive out of him with that information. She grinned wickedly, running her nose up his chest to his neck, where she whispered, “I’ll keep your secret, but only if you keep cuddling me.”

 

He gave another small, deep laugh and leaned down to kiss her collarbone, the stubble on his unshaven face and neck scratching her in a delightfully masculine way. “Minx.”

 

“I like this,” she hummed appreciatively, rubbing her palm against his rough cheek. I like all of you. They lay peacefully in each other’s arms for a long while after that, any sound other than that of their breathing unnecessary.

 

Around noon Hermione began to experience a curious mixture of reluctance and anticipation. Until then every part of her had been kept completely occupied by Lucius, but now the young witch’s attention turned to Draco. Not that she’d ever forgotten him; in fact he’d figured heavily in several conversations over the past few hours. No, he was in her heart and mind at all times, yet something kept her where she was until the nearest timepiece chimed twelve times.

 

She sighed against Lucius’ chest. “It’s time for me to go,” she murmured softly, inwardly acknowledging this sudden surety as the guidance of the family magic.

 

The elder Malfoy stroked a hand over her hair, making a noise of agreement. “Loath as I am to part with you, the boy needs his Wife.”

 

“He’s not a boy, Lucius,” she corrected absently. “He’s been a man according to wizarding law for two years.”

 

He kissed her temple and smiled so widely she felt the curve of his lips against her skin. “A man is made in more than one way, pet, and Draco has not yet had his Wife. Now go,” here he swatted her backside, “and make a man of him.”

 

She raised herself up partway, smiling down at him in pleased surprise. “How do you do that?” At his inquisitively raised eyebrow, she continued, “How do you turn the most awkward topics and situations into comfortable conversation?”

 

“Have I not proven the skill of my silver tongue?” he asked in smug amusement. He sat up against the headboard and drew her up so they faced each other directly, suddenly serious. “Never underestimate your part in our bond; you are . . .” he trailed off. “You are light and life to me, Hermione, and you have brought laughter and understanding to a cynical man starving for those things.” He stroked a gentle hand over her cheek and down her throat, curling his fingers around her neck. “If you find it easy to talk with me, it is because I desire nothing more than to talk with you. It brings me great joy.”

 

Her confidence bolstered by that affirmation, she gave voice to something that had been both bothering both her and causing her to be curious. “And it honestly doesn’t bother you that I’m going to him? That you have to share your Wife with another?” She paused, blushing. “I know, I know; this is the part where you tell me that it’s your culture, and that it will all make sense to me in time.”

 

Lucius’ answer was spoken in a tone that matched his intense expression. “I have shared everything in my life with Draco to this point; why should it be any different now?” He leaned and brushed his mouth against hers, adding in a silky murmur, “I look forward to seeing you laid out for us both on the House bed as you were in that picture, pet.”

 

That brought another, deeper blush to her face. “I thought you’d forgotten to open that present, since you haven’t said anything, or that it wasn’t to your taste,” she confessed self-consciously.

 

Her reward was a throaty chuckle and another brief, teasing kiss. “It was very much to my taste. I opened it the moment you left and nearly came in my pants. Draco didn’t help at all; he promptly showed me the one you’d given him. We both had difficulty walking to dinner, and then had to sit with hard, weeping cocks.” Lucius laughed again. “Such a delightfully naughty girl you are.” Then he gave her bare bottom another playful slap. “Go now, before I persuade you to stay longer. The sooner you go to him, the sooner the three of us will meet in that bed.”

 

Hermione’s exhausted body warmed to her husband’s words. Nevertheless, she slipped from his side and donned her wedding dress shortly after that, laughingly declining his suggestion of one more shower together. He’d looked almost relieved when she shook her head, giving Hermione pause for thought. I think I wore out Lucius. The idea stroked her feminine ego and caused the covenant to purr contentedly.

 

She left on foot, thrilled when Lucius didn’t press too hard for her to call for a guard for escort through the Manor. It didn’t matter in the slightest bit that she had no idea where she was going – this was about a few minutes of complete independence after weeks of constant, unsolicited company. Besides, she could always Apparate to her own rooms eventually. The covenant seemed pleased at her desire to take a slightly longer route, and Hermione wondered briefly if it had an agenda of its own.

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