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.
“Three! Thank you, Lucius!”
Hermione lay across his lap, her head hanging slightly over the low end of a sturdy chaise lounge. Arms braced against the silk upholstery, she arched her back and pushed her arse upward. Her efforts were rewarded with another sharp SMACK.
“Four! Mmmmm. Thank you, Lucius.”
Lucius smoothed his large, warm hand over Hermione’s backside but ignored her otherwise. “You see, Draco? The secret is not the force of the swing, but the angle.”
She sighed as the spanking halted for yet another protracted instructional moment. They’d been home for nearly an hour now, and she’d spent most of it draped just so and listening to her elder husband lecture her younger one on form and technique. Then, needing to occupy her mind with something, she turned her thoughts toward Ipsa vita est Draco, the interviews she’d agreed to give, the Muggle fiction she might write, and the restoration of the Fallen Four. Within her, the covenant began purring.
“ . . . you try it.” Lucius suddenly lifted her off his lap, giving a stern tut when she protested. “Behave, pet, else that angle can be easily changed.” He handed her off to Draco, who sat on the low table in front of them.
She resisted Draco’s attempts to arrange her over his lap. “You can’t just-”
“Like so,” Lucius continued as if she hadn’t just spoken, spreading her legs wider with a proprietary hand.
“I’m quite capable of doing that mys-”
She was interrupted yet again, this time by Draco. Clearly her arse was the only requisite part of her. This had better turn into a real spanking soon. She chewed the side of her mouth and tuned out again. I think the fanwitch problem could be solved with a little help from the press. Interestingly enough, I just happen to have a reporter in my pocket now. And I can whip out a fictionalized account of my engagement in my spare time. Aiding the Fallen Four, however, would require significant research. She smiled in anticipation, and around the edges of her awareness the family magic intensified its purr.
A particularly sharp swat cut short her musing. “Hey!” That one had stung a bit too much.
“Sorry,” Draco offered absently. He fussed about, shifting her over his wide-spread legs. “I don’t . . . It doesn’t feel . . . How did you . . .?”
“Draco,” she growled over her shoulder, “just spank me.”
“Ouch! Not like that!”
Hermione sprang out of his arms and rounded on him. “This is supposed to be enjoyable!” She rubbed her arse. “That was not enjoyable.”
The covenant had stopped purring. It seemed to find this incredibly amusing – so much so that once again it appeared to have settled down to watch the family drama with metaphorical popcorn. Oh, for goodness sake! You could help! It snickered at the suggestion.
Draco seemed to be having difficulty tearing his eyes away from her bare breasts. “Perhaps you’re wearing too many layers.”
“Focus, Draco.” Lucius sounded more amused than anything else.
Hermione put her hands on her hips and gave them both a narrow-eyed glare. “I’m hardly overdressed. Now, are you going to spank me,” she turned and bent at the waist, planting her hands on Lucius’s thighs to showcase the white silk ruffles – the very ones she’d worn for her wedding gift photo – decorating her backside, “or not?”
“Minx.” Lucius chuckled. He looked over her shoulder at Draco. “Turn her ‘round so your dominant hand can do the work, and be sure she thanks you for each slap.” He’d removed his jacket and waistcoat and rolled up his shirtsleeves previously; now he sprawled on the chaise lounge in informal majesty.
“Come here, little witch.” Draco pulled her down over his lap again, this time to lay in the opposite direction. “Let’s try this again.”
If she turned her head she could see Lucius’s profile. She watched, fascinated, as he directed in his laziest drawl, “That looks far more natural. Now hold her arse in your hand so your middle fingers fall naturally between her legs.”
Draco rubbed two long fingers along her fabric-covered seam. “Right.”
Hermione squirmed at the pleasurable touch. This is torture under the perfectly reasonable guise of education! I want my spanking! The moment they’d returned to the manor she’d gone straight to her room, hunted down these knickers, and Apparated into the library wearing nothing else but the green heels she’d worn all day. Lucius and Draco had been appreciatively speechless. I’d hex them both. Her triumph had been short-lived, however, because Lucius had taken her over his knee at once and begun instructing Draco in the art of spanking one’s Wife. But then I’d just have to wait even longer for what I want. She returned part of her attention to the current conversation.
“They should do the same as you strike,” Lucius coached. “Wrap your other arm round her waist and . . . yes, just like that. Go on, try it again.”
That was marginally better. “One. Thank you, Draco.” Unfortunately, it hadn’t afforded her any pleasure. I need to find out how soon it would be acceptable to invite Aberforth Dumbledore to tea. She fidgeted against his thigh and sought out the covenant. How much a part of this will you take? Should I count you as a research team member?
“Ah, ah, ah – don’t let her squirm. Her pleasure is yours, and as such it may come only from you. Make her lie still.”
Hermione glared at Lucius over her shoulder, earning another self-assured chuckle from him just as Draco gave her another swat.
“Two. Thank you, Draco.” Maybe it’s how I’m positioned. She tipped her arse higher in the air experimentally. And I need to draft a contract for the Witch Weekly interviews. The third swat was also unexceptional, but she counted it off and thanked him dutifully before sighing.
The noise must have been louder than she intended, because suddenly she was being swung upright to straddle Draco’s lap. He was pouting. “Oh, Draco,” she laughed, pushing his jutting lower lip back into place, “just keep swatting me different ways; eventually you’ll figure it out.” Because I want my spanking!
“That’s a terrible idea.” Draco looked to Lucius. “How can I fix it if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong?”
There was the sound of movement behind her, and then Lucius drew her up from Draco’s lap. “Onto the settee with you, pet.”
Hermione did as she was told, watching as he Accio’d a small, ancient-looking book from a nearby shelf. “What’s that?”
Neither seemed to hear her. Lucius thumbed through the book and pointed to something on a page. “You see here in the diagram, Draco – the technique is quite clear.”
“Well, I can see it,” Draco replied petulantly, “but that doesn’t mean it makes sense. Why should you be any better at this than me?”
Lucius clapped a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “There is no competition between us, brother.”
“Just help me figure out where I’m going wrong.” Draco adjusted the front of his trousers. “And quickly – I’ve had a hard-on since noon.”
Hermione flopped back on the chaise lounge and tapped a foot impatiently. Normally she would have watched such a fraternal exchange with fascination, but at the moment she was having difficulty thinking beyond the flesh between her legs that Lucius had just teased to a steady throb. “Am I going to get a spanking or not? Because . . .” she trailed off as Draco pinned her in place with rapidly darkening eyes.
“Oh, yes, but I want you writhing in my lap and begging for release.” At her whimper he left Lucius’s side and prowled over to crouch down beside her. “I want you so wet you soak through my trousers, Princess. That means I need to learn to spank you properly.”
Rational thought fled. Well, not completely – Hermione was a brilliant witch, after all. For a few seconds she gaped, speechless and drooling, before her prodigious mind whirred into action. As if confirming her decision, the family magic began purring once again. Loudly. “You could talk dirty while Lucius does the spanking.”
Draco, who’d been bending open-mouthed toward her nearest breast, paused. “I would enjoy that,” he murmured, “immensely.” He raised his eyes to hers and swiped his tongue over her rune. “I’d also enjoy fucking that pretty mouth of yours.”
“Nnnnngh.” Lucius might be the champion of teasing and spanking, but when it came to filthy talk Draco outstripped him by the length of a Quidditch field. And, judging by the smug look on his face, he knew it. In an attempt to turn the tables on him, Hermione took hold of his tie and pulled him down for a kiss that mimicked the act he’d so crassly described.
He gave a deep groan when they broke apart to catch their breath. “Let me fuck your mouth, Hermione.”
The air began to thicken around them. Merlin’s wand . . . Was there anything she couldn’t be persuaded to do when he talked like that? “Yes!” she blurted. “Do you want to do it before or after my spanking?”
“I think I’d like to-”
Lucius made an impatient noise, but it was obvious he’d been affected by Draco’s words, too. “May we proceed, or do you wish to schedule the entire evening?” He loomed above them, arms crossed.
Hermione didn’t answer right away; she was too busy ogling the corded muscles of his bared forearms and his well-formed hands. Sweet mother of . . . When he cleared his throat, she snapped out of her reverie. “Errrrrr . . .”
“Up you go, and take off your knickers, pet.” As she stooped to unbuckle the ankle straps of her shoes, he stopped her. “I find myself enamored of those; leave them, please.”
If the air had been thick before, there was a veritable fog of lust pumping through the room now. The covenant began a rhythmic twitching of its metaphorical tail.
She obeyed with alacrity, flinging her torso across his long legs the moment he’d sat down. “Oh, thank Merlin! I thought we’d never get to the good part. Hurry up and spank me.”
Lucius chuckled and ran his hand along the length of her spine, smoothing her backside in a familiar rhythm. Rub, rub, rub. “Such a greedy girl.”
Hermione pushed into his touch and growled. “Stop teasing, Lucius!”
Draco had kicked the low table away and now sprawled near Lucius’s thigh, his shoulders against the chaise lounge and his head near hers. He gave a slow, filthy smirk. “Are you ready, Hermione?”
Was she ready? Was she ready? Was he joking?! Hermione opened her mouth to fire off a sharp retort, but just then Lucius’s hand came down on her arse with a delicious smack.
“One! Thank you Lucius!” Well, it’s about time-
“You look so lovely draped over Lucius’s lap like that.” Draco’s husky murmur interrupted her internal monologue. The sound of his voice traveled through her body to every nerve ending, sending goose bumps over her flesh and a pulse of heat straight her core.
Lucius wasn’t teasing any more; he was delivering swats that stung her arse cheeks, made her folds throb, and ground her clitoris against his thigh. She was already in a state of ecstasy. “Two-” Who KNEW a spanking could be so incred-
“Leave your mouth hanging open like that, little witch, and I just might fill it with something.”
A coil of pleasure began twisting deep in her gut as Draco began his wicked commentary. She struggled to maintain focus. “-! Thank you, Lucius!” Astoria was right about so many things! I wonder what else-
“Threeee-” But the dirty talk-
“Then again, I wouldn’t be able to see your tits bounce with every strike. They’re just begging for attention. Shall I . . .?” Draco leaned forward to steal a quick, demanding kiss as he caught her nipples between the joints of his fingers.
The coil twisted tighter. “-! Thank you, Lucius! Yes!” Gaaah!
“FOUR! Oh, Dra-” This was so worth waiting f-
“Are you already so close? Your eyes are rolling back in your head, sweetheart. No, no, look at me. I want to watch you come. There’s a good girl.”
She really was that close; that coil deep inside her was threatening to snap at any time. “-! Thank you, Lucius!” Oh, gods! Oh, Dra-
“Fiiiiiiiiive-” Just a little mo-
“Beg for it, Princess. Let us hear you beg.” Draco held her in a stormy-eyed gaze.
If begging got her what she wanted, she had no issue doing so. “-! Thank you, Luciussss! Please! Please!” The expression should be ‘hand of Lucius’, not ‘hand of Merl-
“Oooooh! Six! I need-”
Draco’s beautiful mouth quirked up on one side. “Shall I tell you what I need? When your spanking is done, I need to lick and suck your pretty pink folds clean of all that sticky sweet arousal.”
She gave a strangled cry as her body began to lock down in preparation for release. “-! Thank you, Lucius! I need-” That! What Draco just said, among other thi-
This time it was Lucius who spoke, and he did so in a dark, silky tone that should have been labeled Darkest Magic. “Come, pet.”
And as if the coil in her gut had been waiting for just that command, it snapped in an explosive, gratifying release of tension. “Seven! Seven! Sssssssevvvvvennnnnn!” Seconds later she managed to whisper, “Thank you, Lucius and Draco.”
She lay in noodle-limbed contentment across Lucius’s thighs for a while, enjoying the feel of his hand gently stroking her sensitized skin. Draco paid her equal attention, running his fingers through her hair and dropping semi-sweet kisses on her the corner of her mouth. Every so often she gave a small hum of satisfaction, which seemed to please both her husbands.
To a casual observer (had there been one) Hermione would have appeared to be in a half-conscious state; exactly one minute into the lull, however, Lucius remarked, “I can hear your brain working, pet. What has you thinking so loudly?”
She gave a lengthy sigh and moved off his lap, settling down beside him on the chaise lounge. “At the risk of bruising your egos, I have a lot on my mind right now.”
Lucius gave a rare, unguarded smile. “Beautiful and brilliant – truly you were destined to be our Wife.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Before we take you to bed for a thorough fucking, is there anything you’d like to share?” He didn’t sound the slightest bit offended that she’d been multitasking.
Draco was still seated at her feet, a devilish gleam in his eye as he rubbed his nose along her the inside of her knee.
She remembered his last utterance. Oh, that WOULD be nice. The covenant’s purr was like thunder. But not here. She looked between her husbands, torn between her desire for conversation and physical intimacy for the space of one heartbeat. We’ve been married less than twenty-four hours; talking can wait for . . . some other time. The covenant seemed to agree. “Well,” she blushed, biting back her delighted grin, “if there’s fucking to be had . . .”