Author: Quidditchref
Title: The Red and Green Ribbons
Rating: NC-17 (and then some!)
Fandom: Potter Universe
Pairing: Hermione Granger, Lucius Malfoy
Warnings: course language, explicit sexual situations
Archive: Please ask my permission to archive. Thank you.
Feedback: Sure, all constructive feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Summary: 2008 Granger Enchanted Christmas Challenge Prompt #1: The one gift she wanted was never under the tree… except this year it came by special delivery, wrapped in a big red bow. AU, l/hr, fluffy lemons :)
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and the original plot are the property of the author. The Fanfiction author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Credit: This story would not have been possible without the constant help of my wonderful friend and beta, Silverotter1. Many of the best ideas are hers, as is all of the editing. Thanks, Emily...you know how I feel!
The Red And Green Ribbons
It was mocking her. She sat staring at the Christmas tree, and could feel the cheerfully decoratedspruce mocking her. The fairy lights she had meticulously conjured among the branches sparkled. So did her eyes. Not from the magic of the season; her eyes reflected the lights in the tree because both orbs were wet with tears. Hermione Granger Weasley Towler Finnegan had been through three failed marriages and a ridiculous affair with Draco Malfoy, and once again, she sat alone in a drab London flat looking at a forlorn Christmas tree.
What the hell! How had so much gone so wrong over twenty years time?When she had completed her N.E.W.T.S. from Hogwarts at eighteen, she was supposed to be the smartest witch of her generation. She was the brains of the Golden Lion Tower, the warrior princess who had helped Harry Potter defeat the Dark Lord, the "can't miss" for Minister of Magic, a shoo-in for a happy life as Ron Weasley's wife. Yet her life had turned out a shambles.
Two children with Ronald had not kept that marriage together. Not with meddlesomeMolly Weasley for a mother-in-law. It didn't help that shrewish Ginny Potter not only married Hermione's best friend, Harry, but also backed up her mother and brother in every dispute. Thank Minerva the kids, Rose and Hugo, apparently had turned out all right, even if she hardly ever saw them these days. No, the Weasley Clan certainly would not be coming over for Christmas this year.
So she had moved on with a co-worker, Kenny Towler, who had been a couple years ahead of her at Hogwarts. Yes, he had seemed a bit of a womanizer, butshe thought she loved Kenny dearly, and they seemed to share so many interests, working in the Department of Mysteries together. He had been there for her during the breakup with Ron after fifteen wasted, hurtful years.
Unfortunately, Kenny had also been there for Lavender Brown, who Ron kicked to the curb when the ditzy blonde didn't work out as a replacement for Hermione. When Hermione had come home unexpectedly from work, and caught Kenny eating Lavender instead of lunch on their dining room table, that marriage was over in less than a year. Once more Hermione had needed to deal by herself with being the scandalous cover girl on "Witch Weekly". So much for her second marriage, her personal reputation, and her career. Sent packing, Kenny would probably not be sending gifts.
Hah! And the worst was yet to come! Next, she fell into the clutches of Draco Malfoy. Of all people, her old school rival had seemed to be the one she could count on after Ginny had poisoned Harry against her. She should have known better, but those who ignore the lessons of history are doomed to repeat their mistakes. She fell into a love-hate relationship with the tall blond who had made her school days miserable.
She thought he had changed for the better. She overlookedthe fact that he was married to Astoria, and stubbornly ignored the fact that maybe she just wanted to hurt Harry. She thought their constant fighting would certainly pass, since they were so good together in bed, often spending whole nights screwing each other into a coma. But she hadn't counted on Scorpius pulling his father back to his mother. Nor had she been prepared for a growing fascination with widowed Lucius Malfoy or the way he had begun to leer at her. No, "Blondie" was not the Malfoy for Hermione.
And that was what had destroyed her third marriage. Seamus Finnigan, her rebound from Draco, was not very tolerant of his passionate little wife to begin with. He certainly was not going to accept this sudden attraction to a man nearly twice her age. The Finnigans' bounce back union was nothing but stormy seas to start with. Between her throwing things at him, and his throwing things back at her, they kept the plasterers busy repairing the walls at both their houses. When the Irish redhead finally filed for divorce, the Ministry was quick to grant it because the two of them had kept a team of Aurors tied up nearly full time. Yes. If Seamus sent her a Christmas package, she would be sure to dump it in a bathtub full of water before opening.
Fucking wankers, all of them. She sat and let her fir tree call her a ninny once again. Not one of them understood her. Not one of them cared a damn about what she wanted. From Ron and Seamus, who never appreciated or supported her career, to Kenny and Draco who only wanted to use her for sex (like every other witch in their lives), they had made Hermione feel like a useless failure. So much potential, all of it wasted. So many things she wanted to do, all of them blocked by the men in her life. Of course, money was not an issue; she had all she needed. No, it was in matters of the heart where Hermione was unsuccessful; in a career that had not realized its potential, which had left her feeling inadequate.
Oddly, lately, it seemed the only person who understood the "real" Hermione was Lucius Malfoy. Now wasn't that ironic. When she had been dating Draco, she thought his father was only staring at her out of pure hate. It was only after she'd caught him drunk in his study one night that he actually admitted his true feelings, told her that he had always respected her, and lately had come to want her. Then he told her how jealous he had been of his son.
At first she was appalled, then flattered, and finally after chatting 'til the wee hours, slightly smittenherself. The one good thing to come out her illicit affair with the younger Malfoy was that she had spent some time really getting to know his father. Talking to the former dark side henchman had revealed a basic change in his nature. Since they had been on opposite sides during the war, she had never before had the opportunity to know the elder Malfoy. Actually, since she had nearly been tortured to death in his house, she had more reason to fear him than try to understand him. Stolen moments and heart to hearts during the rocky end of her association with Draco had changed that. She had come to see Lucius as an intelligent and dynamic man. Passionate and attentive. Yes. Attentive. Giving her attention. What no one, not any of the other men in her life, had given her.
And yet she had ended it.
She really couldn't explain it. It had felt so good, so right. They seemed to have a connection to one another, as though they had been together in another life. She had wanted their relationship, and yet felt guilty about feeling good. Perhaps it had been the early December night when they were sitting in his library, sipping a fine vintage elf wine. He had drawn her close to him. She had turned her face to his. He kissed her gently. She kissed him back, perhaps a bit more passionately. When they stopped for breath, Lucius had asked her, "Are you sure you want more from me, Hermione? I'm not drunk this time, you know."
And she had pushed him away, jumped to her feet, and run from the Manor as fast as her legs would carry her. When she was outside his grounds, she disapparated back to her flat, threw herself face down on her bed, and sobbed herself into a restless sleep. It wasn't just that she wanted him, and was afraid of the feeling. It was the sense that he was unattainable, too old, too damaged. What would her remaining friends and family think of them? What would his pureblood family think of him? She was a multi-time failure at love. Yes, it was sad, but better to stop now, before anyone got hurt.
Truth. Hermione was hurt. She had cried then. She was crying now. She hadn't heard from him since. She supposed there was no reason to expect to hear from him by Christmas, either.
Then came a tapping at her window, just when the night seemed darkest, just when it seemed that the one gift she wanted under her tree would never be there. She turned to the window, and saw an unfamiliar owl pecking at the sash. Slowly, suspiciously, she rose to her feet, went to the window, inspected the bird. It was as black as the night from which it had materialized. The feathers sparkled like anthracite. This magnificent owl, Hermione noted, carried a medium size gold wrapped box, tied with a dark red ribbon. Gryffindor colors. Perhaps Harry had finally remembered she was really his true friend.
She opened the window, and the bird hopped in. She patted its head, and it almost seemed to purr; maybe it was just a hoot deep in its throat. She took the package and gave it three owl treats as a reward. It turned its head as owls do, actually nuzzled against her hand, an affectionate acknowledgement of the transaction. Then it hopped back on the sill, spread its glossy wings, and disappeared almost instantly into the inky night.
Hermione eyed the gold box. The big red bow. Carefully, she removed the wrapping, and lifted the lid. She frowned. Inside was a ragged house slipper. Just one. It was a good slipper, well made, black leather lined with silk, but it had seen much better days. It was worn and scuffed. It even appeared a dog, or perhaps the black owl, had spent some time chewing on the slipper. Daintily, tentatively, she picked it up between her thumb and index finger.
At once, she felt that familiar and horribly uncomfortable pull at the back of her navel, and knew she was holding a Portkey. Still holding her red ribbon, the old slipper was dragging her off to who knew where. She would have been even more terrified, but she told herself it had to have been sent by a friend. Nevertheless, not knowing where she was landing caused her to stumble badly at the end of the journey, and she would have fallen on her face if two strong arms had not been there to catch her.
"Hello, Hermione. I see you got my special delivery. Did you have a nice trip?" She looked up from her half supine position, into the glittering silver eyes of Lucius Malfoy. She should have known.
She was in his lavishly decorated private study at Malfoy Manor. This was the place where he had admitted he wanted her. This was the place where she had kissed him, then ran from him. It smelled of excellent Cognac and fine tobacco, with a hint of pine from the huge Christmas tree standing in the corner opposite the fireplace. The stone hearth and cherry wood mantle were massive, and the cheery fire would have ordinarily dominated the room. Instead, it was Lucius from whom she could not take her eyes.
For one thing, he was naked.
Tall. White-blond hair. Alabaster skin. Yes, it was easy to see what color his skin was. She could see all of it. She could also see his well-defined chest and powerful legs, and an arse she could only think of as "pert". And there was his jutting cock. With a green ribbon round it! What the fuck!
"You, my dear, are wearing far too many clothes," he said, straightening her up in his embrace, and cupping her bum with his big hands. She was too shocked to reply. She had been wearing only loose fitting pajamas in her flat, and hadn't even bothered with slippers before opening the package, so she was standing in her bare feet as he slipped his hands from her ass, up her back, dragging the top up over her head.
Hermione was a tiny woman. She had grown more beautiful over the years, with a generous mouth, whiskey colored eyes, and hair that had finally settled on being very dark and wavy instead of bushy brown. Her skin was flawless, and despite two children, there was not a stretch mark anywhere on her abdomen. Her breasts were small, and stood up proud. As her lovers had said, more than a handful would be a waste. Her nipples were large, and now they were turgid in anticipation of his touch.
"Yes! Beautiful! Perfect! I knew you would be perfect," Lucius purred as he tossed her top onto the sofa. Holding her loosely around the lower back with his right hand, he used his left to stroke her soft smooth stomach, and fondled his way up to capture a breast in the palm of his hand. Lightly, he caressed it, palmed the nipple, then petted his way back down, inserting a finger in her navel. She was panting, moaning with the pleasure of his warm touches, but so confused and disoriented.
"Lucius, what is this? Stupid question; why am I here? Stupid again! Of course, I know why I'm here! I mean, why do you want me here? After the way I ran out on you the last time, I mean? I'm horrible at these things. You can have anyone you want. Why are you taking a chance on me?"
"Shut up and kiss me," he commanded.
Slowly, she turned her face to his, considering for less than a heartbeat his demand. She tilted her head, he lowered his, and their lips met, soft, warm, and moist. The tips of their tongues touched, then their mouths opened and they began to explore one another. He drew her tighter, and her breasts flattened against his hard pectorals. She could feel his hard cock flat against her belly as he reacted to the stimulation, and the ends of the green ribbon fluttered, lightly touching her skin. Her arms came around him, and her own red ribbon gently tickled his back.
When they broke for oxygen, she glanced down. He was not inordinately long, she noticed. As Olivander, the wandmaker, would put it, perhaps eight inches, fine wood, pureblood core. But this wand was thick, well veined, standing out straight and proud. She reached down, touched it, loved the feel of the semi-soft silky smooth head. He gasped as she wrapped her tiny hand around it, fisted him gently. He threw his head back and groaned. She grabbed the end of his green ribbon, undoing the bow, and letting the silk lightly slide along his length.
"You're killing me, Hermione. And you're still wearing too much clothing!" Lucius reached down and lovingly pushed her hand away. Then he seized her pajama bottoms, dragged them over her hips and down her shapely legs as he knelt before her. She stepped out of them, as naked as he was.
"You have beautiful legs," he murmured. "Dancer's legs. Did you dance as a child, Hermione?"
"Yes, ballet. I danced until fifth year. I was actually quite good, but my legs are too short."
"Too short for what?"
"Professional dance."
"That was never destined to be your future, anyway, my dear. You have too fine a mind. But it is stimulating to know that you have a creative side. Perhaps when we are together, you will want to express your creative side again, more often. And I think your legs are certainly long enough to wrap around my arse!" He raised his head to look directly into her eyes.
"When we are together? Are we going to be together, Lucius?"
"Oh, I think so, my darling," he replied. "I feel we are connected, destined for one another. You know, I once loved another woman as I now feel for you. This was long before Narcissa. But somehow, I scared her away, much as I scared you the other night. I was too young, too inexperienced, to know what to do, but I learned my lesson. When you ran away, I was determined not to let you go. I was dedicated to getting you into my arms once more. And I am committed to having a life with you. I won't let you get away.
Hermione was silent. She felt sure her beating heart would pound straight out of her chest. Still kneeling before her, almost seeming to worship her, Lucius pulled her to him, caressed her with his fine hands, played in the dips and curves of her body, touched her secret places with his tongue. He rose and kissed her temple, the curve of her ear. His touch, his warmth…his very presence made her dizzy with delight. Each ensuing touch stirred her more and more until her whole being hummed with magical current. She felt a surge of wet desire flood between her thighs, felt her nipples tingle with jolts of pleasure from his touch, his lips, his tongue.
Lucius growled low in his throat. "You are mine, witch. I've wanted you every moment since you took yourself from me. I've needed you every hour since the day I knew you were mine, and mine alone. Mine."
With the echoes of his declaration buzzing in her ears, she felt him lift her, gather her in his embrace and carry her across the room to the large Christmas tree, festooned with more green ribbon and iced with frozen spikes of water. He eased her down, and she felt herself sinking into the softest golden blanket, which surrounded the base of the fragrant pine.
"Tell me, Hermione, can you deny your heart's desire any longer? Can you reject that which is woven into your soul?"
Hermione shook her head and opened her legs to him. He took their ribbons from her, and kneeling beside her, began to flutter the ends of satiny red and green against the tips of her breasts, along her stomach, over her clit, teasingly between her legs. She felt herself so close to coming. She bounced her hips off the velvety blanket, yearning for more contact with the supple ribbons, or seeking something harder so she could reach her release.
Finally, he had teased her enough. He settled himself at her center. She could feel him tremble as he positioned his cock on her moist slit; she herself gave a shudder at the anticipation coursing through her limbs. She wrapped her legs round his calves, cupped his arse urging him to complete their long awaited union.
"Now, Lucius, now… inside me. I need you now…"
Then, in one thrust, he plunged into her glistening heat. Hermione closed her eyes against the ecstasy that exploded as she felt him fill her core; his hot hard shaft spearing her. He was perfect. Opening her eyes, she gazed up at him. If true contentment on earth was possible, she had seen it in his face.
"Lucius…" she breathed. His name, like a prayer, fell from her lips.
Returning her gaze, he whispered, "Hermione."
Keeping still within her, he wove the red and green ribbons around each other, and then wound them around her wrists and his own, binding them together. And then he began to move, never taking his eyes from hers. She watched in awe as bliss swept across his features, all the while knowing her own enjoyment was evident to him as well. The intimacy was like nothing she'd ever known. It was harmony. One accord.
"Look at me, at my cock. Taking you…look."
He rose onto his knees, so she could peer down at the place where they were joined. His cock glistened with her juices, pumping in and out of her pussy. She wanted to reach down to touch him, to feel the ripples of veins against her fingertips, the slickness from her excitement, but the ribbons bound their hands together. He sensed what she wanted to do. As one person, they moved their limbs to the joining place.
"Uh, gods," he moaned. "Touch me. Feel me…feel me fuck you, fuck your hot little pussy…fuck you so hard." He picked up his pace, changing the angle slightly. Her fingers were lightly touching his cock. His hands were gently resting near her clit as he thrust in and out of her.
Her eyes widened at the filthy words he spoke. "So deep…so deep," she moaned, as the tip of his prick found that incredibly sensitive spot within. It thrilled her; exhilarated her and she knew she would soon come undone in his arms…they exploded together in ecstasy, screaming each other's name.
Barely getting back their breath, they held on to one another in post-coital bliss. The ribbons still tied them together. Hermione gradually became aware of a current flowing between them, the ribbons acting as a conductor.
"Are they magic, Lucius?" she asked him softly.
"Of course. I am a wizard, after all," he chuckled.
She sighed. "I thought this was going to be a terrible Christmas. Instead, I can see it's going to be the best I've ever had. You are the best present I've ever found under a tree."
"And I don't intend to ever let you return me, Hermione. I'm a selfish bastard. You are my best present, too, bound to me by silk and love and passion. And when the New Year comes around, I intend to tie you to me by asking…"
She shuddered, threw her hand across his mouth, and fell crying against him. Wrapping her up in his arms, he looked questioningly at her. "What's the matter with you now, little witch?"
"Don't ask me to marry you. I'm no good at that," she sobbed.
"Darling, why would we ruin a good thing?" He tightened his hold on her.
She pushed against his chest, her watery gaze peering into his perplexed face. "Then what were you going to say? What were you going to ask?"
Lucius smiled. "Dearest, I was only going to suggest that you might want to wear your red ribbon all the time. Perhaps we could transfigure it into a scarf. After all, you are a witch. And while you're at it, perhaps you could make my green ribbon into a cravat?"
"So you don't want to get married?" she sniffled.
"Oh, I don't think either of us are interested in doing that again, are we? Besides, I don't need a piece of legal parchment to know that you and I were made for each other. We have our red and green ribbons, binding us forever."