Under the surface

Now I will tell you what I've done for you -
50 thousand tears I've cried.
Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you -
And you still won't hear me - (Evanescence: Going Under)

Going Under

Stretch up. Bend down. Twist. Bend hamstring right. Hamstring left. Now hold up your sorry excuse for hair and put your bag by your feet. Enjoy and test the water. Such a beautiful lake. Hermione sighed, as she saw a pair of swans glide in the rippling silver surface. Such a scene of perfect union. Though swans were vicious creatures really. Beauty and grace on the water but frantically paddling underneath. The one thing she did like about swans were that they mated for life. The sun was up and she decided to lift her face to it.

"What are you doing?" a voice behind her said.

Not showing signs of cringing Hermione opened her eyes and glared at the face of number two prat: Draco Malfoy. "Enjoying some peace and quiet before the match, as if I should explain myself to you."

"So, the Weasley's give you a headache do they?" Draco scoffed. It seemed as if his sneer was half-hearted. "Not surprised."

"No," she said without a hint of sarcasm. Be polite, Hermione, her father always said. Remember, FIRE is doused by water. Be as calm as Lake Windermere. "Having five different conversations go on in one tent is a bit much," she even smiled. Like they were friends, "especially as I am only used to having one scientifically based debate between three people."

"Oh yeah, your parents!" Draco sighed, thrusting his hands in his pockets. "What do they do for you to be able buy things?" here he shifted around and was contemplating sitting next to her but he did not wish to get his trousers dirty.

"Dentists."

"What are they?"

"Teeth healers," was her short response. "Children hate them. Muggles have a fear of them," she added. Not in the mood to discuss anything to do with her parent's line of work. In truth, she wished that they were Librarians or Lawyers. "Sort of like as Dark Arts as muggles get within respectability." She came here to be alone with her thoughts. Why was Draco making kind conversation. "What are you doing here?"

"I was walking to get a drink from the Marquee," Oh gods, Granger, you're hot. No Potty Measle around to jump down my throat. I have no one around, what is to stop me from joining her? Or, even better, finally find a better use for that mouth and her hands go up and... Stop there, Draco. "That only the privileged gets to go to," he said without hint of malice. Be shocking once in your life, Draco. Ask her out! He opened his mouth to try and see if she wanted to come.

Hermione furrowed her brow silently opening her mouth to retort something nasty about where she could stick his privileges. A crystal clear, hard as diamonds, voice cut into their first somewhat normal tête-à-tête. "What have I said, Draco?" it said. Immediately, she felt the change. The air crackled between father and son. Wow, she thought, Draco flinched...

Enter stage right, prat number one: King of Krill. Earl of Eels. Lord of Leeches. Sir of Snakes: Lucius Malfoy. "Play nicely, Father," Draco sighed. Pity rose in Hermione's heart. He was playing nicely. There was no sneer. Leer. Jest. In fact, if Draco wanted to stay, she'd have let him. "But..."

"He was actually being civilised," Hermione interrupted. Deciding, in that minute, to defend Draco. Was she mistaken or did Draco flash a warning shot in his eyes as if to stop her from perturbing his father.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione looked ahead trying to observe the tranquil lake before her, in an effort to ignore the boy and the man behind her. "I do hope my son was not pestering you, Miss Granger," he smirked at her narrowed eyes. There was something wonderful about the untried Gryffindor, he sighed. A real Wizard was in order for her. "Or boring you?"

"It was just a question," Hermione said. Secretly, she had wanted a proper talk with Draco for awhile. Try to find out his real heart. Certainly not to date him but she could not help but think Draco was more than he appeared. More than his Father would allow him to be. "I answered. It's called small talk."

Maybe wearing the mid-length green and silver tartan skirt was a bad idea! Though her mother treated her to a proper leg wax a few days ago. It was deliciously hot and she wanted the sun's rays to lick her skin. She could wear what she damn well wanted. Why did Lucius make her feel she should be wearing a suit of armour. What had possessed her to try this skirt on in the shop? Even more so to persuade her mother to purchase it. It was not the length, or the pattern. It was the colour. Green and Silver. "I was seeking tranquillity."

She must have been unconsciously stroking her leg causing both Malfoy's to finally notice her skirt because what Lucius said next shocked her: "Green and Silver, Miss Granger?" she could feel the arched eyebrow burn into her cheek.

Lowering her head, Hermione tried to hide her blush. Pulling the skirt at the hem, as far down as she could, to hide her thighs. "If I could have charmed it red and gold I can assure you," here she looked the elder Malfoy right in the eye, "I would have."

"That blouse is rather tight too," supremely tight, Lucius licked his lips. Salaciously, see through, showing how wonderful her breasts were. Not even in a proper bra."Is it not?"

Suck it, Malfoy. Hermione seethed: "It fits!" she snapped.

"Yes," Mr Malfoy conceded. "It fits," with a sigh he allowed his hooded eyes to observe how her frame breathed within. "I would venture to guess it was designed with you specifically in mind."

What the hell? Was Lucius Malfoy feeling her up with his eyes? Huffing as she stood up Hermione lifted her bag up: "I guess I ought to find another spot for solitude then," she turned around and saw Lucius blue eyes twinkling. "Where there are no prying eyes."

"We were just leaving," Lucius said not taking his eyes away from her hips. Why did she feel the need for Gryffindor's sword? "Come, Draco, allow Miss Granger her peace."

"I really want…" Draco objected.

Exasperation showed in Lucius eyes: "It is always about what you want, is it not, Draco?"

If she felt braver she would have grabbed hold of Draco's hand urging him to stay. It was not fair, Draco sighed. For the first time he was bordering on civil to her and he would have sat and talked about the upcoming year if his father had not showed up. Sulking, Draco walked up to his father.

Placing a jewelled hand on his son's shoulder Lucius tilted his head further up to her waist. Out of her school uniform she's delectable indeed. So young. Freshly ripened."Enjoy the beautiful view, Miss Granger," Lucius winked as he turned Draco around. "As I most certainly have."

With that they left the glen together. Lucius stopped suddenly when they had turned the corner. Squeezing Draco's shoulder Lucius smile definitely did reach his gaze. Now was his opportunity. "You go to the Marquee," he said. "I need to see to something," Lucius gaze rested on the corner they had just walked around. Draco saw his Father lick his lips. "It is highly sensitive."

Highly Sensitive? Draco was sceptical at the best of times. See to something? Draco ground his teeth together. "Is it that important?"

Winking, Lucius patted his son on the shoulder: "Something that needs to be done, that is all."

As much as he adored his father, Draco knew when he was a man on the prowl. The look in his eyes told all. The tone conveyed everything. Draco actually felt sorry for whomever his father had chosen as his prey and he had a bloody good idea who it was. The girl had best have strong defences. Did anybody against his dad? "Can I help?" he asked. Hoping he could step in. Prove he could be a hero after all.

"This is a task for a man," his father winked again and smirked. "Just go and have fun, Draco. I suggest Miss Weasley,"shocked, Draco glanced into his father's eyes: "She still is purity, Draco," he chuckled. "Go!"

And risk Potter breathing down my neck every time he has an opportunity? No one needed a seer or prophecy to tell the world Ginny Weasley was going to be Ginny Potter one day. The only other playmate would have been Hermione - and it seemed his Father decided on a game with two players.

With that Lucius turned on his heel and walked back. Leaving Draco in a quandary. Should he follow his father? Something to be done, Draco leered. More likely he was doing someone. Someone who looked incredibly good dressed up as a Slytherin. Should I try and get a message to Potter? Then again if Harry did show up to defend his friend's honour, that would be something Draco would hear about from his father! No choice but to leave Granger to be seduced. She would be. If Draco got what he wanted it was because he learned from the best. Damn him, Draco gritted his teeth, I wanted to try that.

"Now the Nazi prats have gone," Hermione sighed. It had taken all her willpower to gather the courage to do this. Leaning on a tree root Hermione stood up. Barefoot for awhile now, Hermione decided to brave it, no time like the present. Reaching around her waist she fiddled with the emerald green button, popped it open where the flap revealed a tease of hip. Another, larger black button hidden in the band, secured the skirt tightly around her hip. Not any more. Deftly, she hooked her fingers over the band of the skirt and released that button. Allowing the garment to fall in a heap at her feet. The blouse next. Yes, it was a bit form fitting; but she did not have a form to fit it too. Shrugging her shoulders as she thought of Lucius Malfoy's twinkle. What he said: Designed for you, he was flirting with her. In front of his son. Could someone really be that arrogant?

No, Hermione shook her head, that way lies madness. The fake pearl buttons were harder to undo but she did not fancy a scrabble in the mud to find them if she just… "Who's there?" she asked as she thought she heard a twig crunch beneath someone's foot. "Hello?" Must have imagined it, hanging around with Harry Potter does that to you. "Fine," she said. "Now, now, Draco, play nicely!" she mimicked Lucius. "Good grief, he was not being horrible, for a change, in fact if things were different I probably would have fancied him like mad, I almost did, once."

Methodically, she looped each button out of her crisp white blouse carefully. Shrugging it off hurriedly as she could not wait for what she planned to do. Closing her eyes, she stood at the edge of the lake, dipping her toes in the soothing cool water. Displaying nothing more than a strappy lilac bikini, Hermione felt strangely emancipated. The scent of wet earth, in the strong summer heat, made her shiver in pleasure. Putting her feet together, bending her knees, stretching arms up for one last warm up - Hermione found a tree root sturdy enough to support her for what she wished to do.

Bend back. Hold arms up straight, (hah, that was at least one thing she could do). Curve body. Legs straight. Tip toes. Launch. In one graceful movement - well, she hoped it was graceful: she found immediate pleasure as her head hit the water. Breast stroking underwater was so relaxing. Eventually, Hermione swam up to the surface, right where the sun's ray fell on her sinewy form. There, she wallowed a little in the water, allowing the gentle lapping to bewitch her mind and take over her skin.

Recapturing her breath, Hermione decided to bob back under the surface to swim back to the shore. Surprisingly, she spotted an alcove to rest in. Not caring if she got mucky. This was probably the most un-Hermione she had felt in her entire life. For one moment she could forget about everything. Magic, muggles, Harry. Just close her eyes and remember that she is a human being.

Godric's teeth, she sighed, resting her head back. The water is so hot and comforting. Normally that would have sent her brain in a frenzy asking questions. If one thing her friendship with Ron and Harry taught her, you have to relax when the opportunity presented itself, and she was prepared to do just that!

"Hakuna Matata," she breathed. "What a wonderful phrase," settling heavily into the calming, silently, lapping waters, "Hakuna Matata, it means no worries," shifting position and moaning as she was clearly imagining some Italian stud screwing her senseless. Lucius waited to hear whom his rival was: "for the rest of your days, it's a problem... oh yes," Hermione rolled her head. No, she was not pleasuring herself, as her arms were curved around the ledge of the alcove. Rather, the little woman was allowing her sensuality bring her to that orgasmic high! "free, philo-sssso-phy," she hissed the s in the word so huskily Lucius felt a decided twitch in his boxers as he imagined that same hiss being ripped from her mouth as he rent her assunder in passions embrace. "Hakuna Matata," she dunked her head again under the water, "Hakuna Matata and," she arched her back as if a hand was touching her core. "High Cockalorum," she giggled dirtily. That was it, Lucius was determined. No other Wizard was to have this Witch but him. If he so much as saw a Muggle touch her that Muggle would be fried beyond oblivion, "High COCKALORUM!" she yelled. How could the Witch achieve that without touching her body and without the use of Magic? Later, Lucius, you are a willing pupil too. With a sigh, Hermione relaxed again: "High Cockalorum, indeed!" Laying her head against the curve in the bank Lucius could see she was panting, glowing and happy. Could it be that the mudblood bookworm was hiding an extremely sensual, erotic side? "I just hope," she sighed, "no one saw that. Least of all that Nazi son of a bitch!"

On the shore, Lucius watched from a good vantage point as she shed her clothes. Appreciating how she filled out. More to come but she was so close to age he did not care. Besides, it would be her word against his, though he would make sure she had nothing to complain about. He saw how his son was looking at her. Did he really think that someone as sinewy and beautiful as Hermione Granger would be interested in him? Besides, he smirked, there was such immense satisfaction that almost made him aroused at the thought; it will be delightful to have Harry Potter's right hand woman as his own Mudblood Mistress.

Impressed by her elegant descent into the water, as there was barely a ripple on the surface, Lucius waited until she bobbed up to see how she looked wet. Oh yes, he smiled. Now I have to protect this glade somehow so no one spies her. Dear Hermione, you will be mine to enjoy, taste and savour. Quietly, with a wave of the hand, Lucius cast a cloaking charm from a few feet behind him to a few feet all around the lake. Also, he made sure no one could hear either. He did not want Mr Potter to be around to save the day. Least of all her honour. Rubbing his face he then began to go about charming the lake itself by creating a little alcove for her to relax in.

With a few other charms as an extra precaution. "Aqua Aestus," he muttered waving his hand over the water. Testing the temperature. She would most certainly find pleasure here. Turning a tree root into a flat wooden seat for something comfortable to sit. Taking a silk green handkerchief out of his trouser pockets: "Crescat Engorgo," he murmured. The small material became a shimmering emerald silken blanket for him to kneel down on and other, more pressing matters, later.

A white wing collar shirt was already undone to reveal his Adam's apple and a tease of his prominent collarbone that led to broad shoulders no Witch had ever been able to resist. He smirked when he remembered Lily Evans wantonly wrapped around him. He had almost succeeded had not Snape caught them at it and jealously guarded her honour. This time he was prepared. Little good that did him, Lucius sneered, as he swiftly removed his cuffs. Carefully placing them in his trouser pocket. The stupid bint still ended up with that idiot Potter! Methodically, Lucius rolled his sleeves up. Because he did not want to wait when the moment came, he took down his trousers, wondering how she would react to this. Shock, he surmised. Kicking them away he sat down removing his footwear. Dressed now only in his loose shirt and satin black boxers. Good, he checked his arm, the Mark was not throbbing yet.

Something else was. Straining against his black silk boxers. Unbuttoning the flap to ease the pain. This was going to be so easy. Many had him down as a big bad Death Eater. What they did not know, and was less well documented, was his way with the women! If this was going to be the last time to have a bit of fun it may as well be with Potter's delicious looking friend. Though, he sighed, I doubt that HE would appear tonight. Depending on how she fights and responds, he may even have her as his live-in Mistress. Salazar's forked tongue, it was big enough to have a whole army of them. If anything, Lucius was more precious over his Mistresses than he was for his wife. Lucius Malfoy was selfish in all aspects of life and proud of it.

As she approached he placed a disillusionment charm on himself so she would sit there willingly. Besides, it was always more fun. The moment she was utterly relaxed then he would silently, stealthily, reveal himself. Gods Witch! he sighed at her slight but perfect form. You are a world of trouble! Golden shoulders gleamed amongst the silver droplets of the lake. Neck slender. He could throttle it with one of his hands but that was not his goal for today. No, his goal was for a more pleasant task. After her somewhat tantric self induced orgasm Lucius listened to what else she wanted to say aloud.

"Wow," Hermione breathed circling her neck, "this is like being at Centre Parcs oh yeah, Longleat here I come." Centre Parcs? Longleat? That was Wiltshire. His home county. Lucius tilted his head listening for her moans of pleasure as the heat encompassed and soothed her. "I want to stay here forever but," she sighed, "that Quidditch match - oh Hermione," she chided herself. "Why did you have to say that? You don't even like Quidditch, truth is you hate sport - whether it's Wizards on a broomstick or Muggles kicking a ball on the ground." Just a few short years in our world, Lucius tutted, you already use the word with such easy dislike. "I wish I was at the Burrow reading but I could not let Ron and Harry down." At that point Lucius could thank to whatever deity that would listen, the Gryffindorian sense of loyalty of the golden trio from the tree tops: "Stop thinking Hermione, just try and enjoy the moment."

Yes, Hermione, Lucius smirked behind her. Enjoy. She lifted a hand out of the water and tucked a stray coil of hair behind her ear. "Ce sera, sera, whatever will be. Will be, the futures not ours to see," she hummed. "Ce sera, sera." With a sigh, Hermione dipped her head under the water and re-surfaced: "Under the sea," her tone changed, "Under the sea," dancing sexily in the gap. "Down where it's wetter, down where it's better, take it from me," laughing with pure joy. "Oh to think, Mermaids are real. Flying carpets are real. Wands are real. Spells and potions are real. I love being a Witch!" she sighed resting her head back. "Almost as much as I love this bliss right now."

Surprisingly, Lucius was taken by her sweet humming soulful sound of the first song. As for the down where it's wetter, if only you knew how I interpret that, Hermione. As for loving being a Witch... You most certainly will love being my Witch. This was the point Lucius lifted the disillusionment charm. Held his hand out hovering his fingertips over the nape of her neck. Enraptured by the darker shades of caramels and honey glistening with the sun and water. Such a Nymph. Remain quiet, Lucius thought. Absolutely still. He crawled closer to the edge as his fingers caught the loose tendrils from her rough ponytail: "Who's there?" she was startled as she felt the touch but too scared to turn around. "Who is it?"

Holding his hand steady, he could not risk her turning around yet. Carefully, he put his hand on her shoulders. No wonder she beats my son at exams, he sighed, the magic core sizzling through her body almost reverberated through his heart. Methodically, with a firm but gentle touch, Lucius started massaging. Kneading his firm fingers into her soft, supple, sun drenched skin. Instead of opening her eyes wondering who was touching her, she just relaxed into the heavy touch: "Oh yes," she hissed. "I love dreams when I can feel someone touching me." Arching an eyebrow Lucius was about to whisper something to completely send her into a pool of bliss. Until he realised that, despite little contact, she still recognised his voice: Also, she had just sent herself in that zone, it would not do to let her go back to that... yet. Bide your time, dear boy, bide your time. "So good it feels real."

Rolling her head and enjoying what she thought was a fake massage Hermione moaned out a name Lucius did not recognise: "Oh A-lan Rick-man," she sighed, trying not allow her body to go back to that episode earlier. Something had happened to her the past month or so. Her body seemed to react so well to the slightest of touches. It hurt sometimes. Instead of questioning where the heaviness came from, Hermione leaned, willingly into Lucius touch. "Am I 10:30 or 10:45, I doubt you would need my friends; they get in the way," she giggled. A reference to a man who wanted sex by appointment? Was this some odd and boring muggle thing? No, it can't be boring because the blush that flamed her cheeks and peppered tantalisingly around her neck and shoulders, indicated otherwise: "If the Sheriff of Nottingham really sounded like that then Marion was a right dunderhead," she mimicked Snape so well that Lucius forgot the sneak attack and chuckled; the ripple from his mirth caused her to quiver momentarily as he applied the pressure harder into her youthful, wet, pliant skin.

Of course, that made her gasp. Slowly, her hands crawled up her breasts, up to her shoulders where she felt wet; slightly downy, definitely male flesh. Instead of panicking Hermione grabbed further up one arm. Vice like grip she clutched on. Decidedly male. Sinews throbbed at her touch, whoever this man was, he wanted her. Stop it, Hermione sighed, you are being assaulted! Be sensible. Not hormonal. Once her other hand closed on the arm she bobbed her head under the water and yanked, with all her might. Dragging him into the water with her.

Rising from the water, Hermione swam further away from. Until her curiosity got the better of her and once the sounds of shock and spluttering subsided. Hermione turned around to see who her would-be assailant was. "Mr Malfoy!" she exclaimed. Skittering further away from the mad looking, soaked through Slytherin. Rumoured Death Eater. Byron-esque in the mad, bad and dangerous to know quality. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Oh, I forgot, you do not have to explain yourself to the likes of me!" she

sneered.

With that Hermione swam her way gracefully back to the shore where her clothes lay in a heap. What she did not expect was Lucius agility as his long, powerful arms, sliced through the still waters effortlessly. Due to size and strength Lucius proved himself to be fast and aggravating. Not only was the lake lapping but she noted that his muscles rippled in the sun. Now the element was in his favour, as she had no choice but to swim either into him, or stop in front of him. Sexy when wet! Hermione berated herself. No, no he is not. He's just as disgusting to me as I am to him. Or I should be to him.

"You thought I was someone," he murmured once he had her attention. "Who was the object of your fantasy?"

"A Muggle."

"One you know?"

"In the muggle world he's more famous than Harry Potter - plus he's in his late forties," then lowered her eyelashes: "no, I do not know him."

"So, you like experienced men," the smirk tugged at his lips.

This was not right. He was supposed to be cursing her for besting him. Touching him a... hang on, he was touching her. Gave her the best shoulder massage she ever had. "I do not know what sexuality he is, I just think he has a wonderful baritone and amazing eyes. Blond."

Baritone, yes. Amazing eyes. Lucius liked to think so. One could not be blonder than I. "Why did you mention times?"

Lucius was proving an excellent swimmer. Cutting through the water gracefully. Unlike the swans, Lucius Malfoy was not flapping about under the surface. Neither was she: "T-times?"

"Am I your 10:30 or 10:45?" he quoted.

Hermione allowed the water to carry her. Unfortunately, Lucius was getting closer and closer: "It is something he says in one of his films."

"Those things that…"

"Why does it matter to you who Alan Rickman is, anyway?" her voice had risen; hoping that someone could hear her. Hermione scowled when she could not see or hear anyone. What was going on? "Leave him alone."

"So, this Sheriff he plays…" Lucius was now circling around her as she followed his movements not wishing for him to be behind her, "with women, does he?"

"One, Maid Marion, who does not like him. He wears a lot of black and promises to call off Christmas."

"Sounds like Severus Snape to me," the white shirt was transparent showing off his perfectly toned body. Hermione pinched her lower lip with her teeth. Go away! Elegantly, Hermione flipped around and tried to swim elsewhere but Lucius followed her. Married! Hermione tried to remind herself. He. Is. Mar-ried. As in bonded to another woman for life. Son shows said UNION was/is not entirely passionless.

Honestly, Hermione was mad at the world. Wizard - Muggle - whatever, men were men. Answer a question properly and logically you get told you're a nightmare and insufferable. Flash a bit of leg and suddenly they become loyal little lapdogs. As she was about to climb out of the lake. Further up the shore from where her clothes lay. Hermione found the pull of the water take over. Why should she leave because some blond bastard was in here? She was a proficient enough swimmer to stay away from him. Then she felt hot. Fingers ghosted up and down her spine eventually landing on the clasp of her bikini top. "Quite an interesting garment, Hermione," he whispered blowing on her wet shoulder blades.

"MR Malfoy!" she hissed. "I do hope you recall that you are married."

"Yes," he murmured, "but why should I stop at one when there are beautiful Witches growing up all around me?"

"I can scream you know!" she said.

Now she felt his hands on her hips as he pressed into her back. Nuzzling his nose into the nape of her neck he dotted hot, searing kisses into her skin. Then he turned her around where her hands accidentally landed on his shoulders. "I charmed the area so no one can either see or hear us," he whispered against her lips, "and I intend to make you scream."

"Oh how thoughtful for yourself," Hermione snapped. "I will never scream for you, Malfoy!" she spat.

"I won't lie, yes, it was mainly for my gratification that I did so." The water lapped gently around them acting like their own personal, natural symphony: "So, you like deep voiced, older, sarcastic men," Lucius sighed ghosting his fingers around her jaw. "I am so delighted that Severus is not here." Tilting her chin up with the curve of his hand so he could gaze into her eyes: "Oh, I believe in less than an hours time, you will be yelling for me to make you scream."

"I'm your son's age, does that not bother you?"

Gazing down at her young pert breasts rising and falling out of the water as her breath quickened at his light barely there touch. "Would you prefer it if Draco were here instead of me?" Oh the goody two shoes has a weakness for dark men, this was too sweet.

"I would prefer to have been left alone."

"Green and silver really does suit you, Hermione," he said her name like he had a right to it. "It has been some time but you have, indeed, become a creature of beauty."

"Mr Malfoy," she snapped, "might I remind you that if you continue on this course of action I can report you to Dumbledore. He still does not believe you did not slip Ginny, Riddle's diary."

"Ah, well," he purred moving in closer. Hermione realised the only escape would be to swim through his legs. That, he was not going to allow her to do as he would, more likely, trap her between them. There was now not enough room for her to turn around or even to crawl backwards up the mud as he had pinned her against the bank. "I have a feeling you would not wish your friends to be told as they most assuredly would be informed if you did."

"You are nothing more than a perverted, deviant, spineless, self-satisfied prig."

Chuckling deeply within his throat Lucius was not riled by her guileless attempt of insulting him: "To a man like me," he sighed tilting his head as he lowered down to brush his lips against hers: "that is nothing but a compliment." Without warning he kissed the hollow of her cheek. He heard the gulp of uncertainty. "As for self-satisfaction," he slowly drew back making sure his lips touched her flesh with each syllable. "I think that I have found a worthy partner."

"Yes, your wife!" she tried to push him away but he was bigger, stronger, bulkier and sleeker than she was. More experienced! She tried staring him in the eyes. Torn between wanting to spit in his eye and melt in his strong gaze Hermione tried a full on body assault to get him to move but he was too firm. Unmoveable. In fact he just watched her with that disgusting sneer on his face.

"Does Potter realise what a fiery demon you are, Hermione?" she wanted nothing more than to get away from him so why was she not trying harder? "Your actions betray you, Hermione, you responded so well to my massage I just wonder how well you'd respond to other," licking his lips again at her young newly grown breasts. Hooded eyes seemed to be directing his lascivious gaze towards her sex, "more intimate touches."

"Is this some alternative universe where suddenly I'm pure blood?"

"You created that when I saw you wearing Slytherin clothing," his fingers hooked around her bikini strap stroking from her collarbone to her breast. "Besides, you are of age."

"No, I am 14."

"Do you realise the repercussions of time-travel?" he whispered. "Was it not fully explained?"

What in Hades? How had he known that? "I have never time-travelled," Hermione flushed. Fluttering her eyes down knowing she was twiddling her fingers under the water. "I am a Witch," Ah, this ought to throw him off. "Not a double hearted Alien in a rickety blue box with the legend Police Box on the lintel."

"Is that a Muggle reference I am not supposed to get?"

"You have heard of Doctor Who?"

Sighing against her body, Lucius noticed a quivering of flesh. Oh she did want him! How long had she desired him? Never one to disappoint a teenager with a crush Lucius became more dogged in his pursuit of pleasure from the presumptuous wench: "I did go to school with Muggleborns, some of them could not stop talking about it."

That was a shock. Not only that he remembered snatches of conversations from Muggleborns he went to school with. He recalled, with perfect clarity, the reference she made to a long since cancelled Muggle SCI FI show. Makes Arthur sound like the Slytherin. "Also, you forget, I am a Ministry official," he whispered against her neck. When did he get there? All four fingers were now curled around the silver strap. The thumb rested on the top of her breast: "I know what you got up to last year." Hecate's teeth, that was right. "In fact, I encouraged the motion." Now her eyes widened in visible surprise, Lucius chuckled against her. Do that again, she leaned into his body, arching her back as her hands explored his muscular, defined, sculpted David like chest. Skin to wet shirt contact were driving her wild in this close proximity. Agony took over as she felt her nipples straining against the cups. The man could not help but notice the young witch offering herself against the bank. Wanting him to take her. Well, well, you are my dear little cat are you not. "It puts age a little out of context," he sucked a little on her chest. "You were aware of that denominating factor?"

Oh no! They said that things would speed up regarding certain things throughout her life. Is that why her body seemed to feel... different? She had already begun her journey into womanhood. "No, I was not," she whimpered. "You're married!" to reminded herself again more than him. This is mad. Bonkers. If she was not so electrically charged, she would have laughed. Why was she not frightened? Scared? Angry? Why was she allowing this man to caress her in this manner? "I do not want to be one to cross your wife."

"Ever heard of the droit de seigneur?"

"Outmoded in Victorian times," she moaned. Hands seemed to be all over her body – stroking her waist. Brushing her hips. Spreading on her abdomen. Cupping and weighing her breasts as long fingers flicked against the increasingly sore nipple, "even then it was considered an urban legend," oh no, not there. Now his lips were sucking a little on the exposed part of her breast.

"Muggles might have outmoded it but I can still have my playmates."

Mates! Almost, she thought bitterly, you can hear the italics. It was only now she had the presence of mind to squirm and wriggle beneath his touch."I would like to find that out for myself, thank you." Never had she thought she'd missed the Devil's Snare.

It was like he did not hear her. Nudging his nose on her slender neck, lips brushed against her wet, raw, untasted flesh: "If I have no effect on you, we shall find out soon enough," he purred pressing his lips to her.

Close your eyes, Hermione sighed. Think of something. Anything. Think of Molly and Arthur doing it. That should turn you off. Not that I… "Ah!" she moaned as she felt a searing heat from her abdomen spilling out in liquid form on her flimsy bottoms. Now Lucius was nipping below her ear and along her soft round shoulders. "Stop please!" she begged.

"Why?" he said back. "You sound as if you're enjoying my idea of fun." Even his eyelashes fluttering against her cheek scorched her flesh.

"Because, I am Hermione Granger and you are Lucius Bloody Malfoy!" she tried to sound angry but that was hard to be when she felt his other firm hand rest on her hip sending a shudder through her leg down to her toes. "You're a Nazi Supremacist and I am supposed to be so wrong you won't allow your son to touch my hand in case he gets Muggleitis!"

Her latest word caused him to rock with laughter against her body: "Muggleitis, I love that," he sighed against her. "Now," he purred, "let me see the effect I have on you," without warning he moved the hand from the hip towards the line of her panties. Not there, Hermione pleaded mentally, if his hands felt good on the rest of her body Circe knows how wonderful they'd feel elsewhere. Brushing the edge away with his middle finger she began to buckle. Interesting, Lucius sighed, nice. The silken lip of her labia was definitely swollen. "You do want me, don't you, my sweet little enemy."

"I hate you!" she hissed.

Smirking against her exposed throat Lucius lowered his body as he rubbed three fingers between her throbbing labial lips. Not quite opening her up, but teasing her; causing her to clench her thighs around his arm: "Maybe you get turned on by hate, Hermione." This pain she was feeling could be satisfied elsewhere. Lift up your leg and knee him in the crown jewels. Again, her body betrayed her, when she lifted her leg, it was to wrap around his waist. "Thank you for being such a responsive pupil, Hermione."

"I was aiming to kick you in your groin," she sighed.

"You do realise," he whispered, "the next action I make will determine whether your body wins or your mind."

"What about my heart?" she growled. Now her mouth was throbbing. Tongue tingling. Burning. Boiling. Frantically, under the surface of her cool exterior. "Does that not get a say?"

"I am afraid," he whispered now against the valley between her breasts, sniffing in the petrichor scent that washed over her. "My dearest." Ozonic; dampened earth; something else, her own perfume? Peaches! From the shampoo she must have used this morning. Did she really think he, Lucius Malfoy, was going to let a little thing like blood status get in the way when he wanted a Witch? "Initially, the heart never gets a say."

"You're acting like you've been planning this for awhile."

"Well, I was hoping to save you for a later date but you negated the need for that when the school requested permission for you to use the time turner to complete all your studies, though," he pressed his lips to her collarbone: "Why you wanted to partake in Muggle Studies is beyond me."

"How did…"

"Draco," he smiled against her throat. "It is time, Hermione, to see if you really can say no."

Momentarily, Hermione had forgotten that one of his hands was resting in-between her legs - fingers toying absent-mindedly along the edge of what could be her descent into the abyss. "What do you… oh!"

Firmly, Lucius rubbed deeper into her essence. Warm liquid threatened to drown his fingers: "Now," he said moving up her body, "you would definitely hate me if I left you alone after that."

"I can live with myself."

"Well," he said moving away from her, "I will be lying on a blanket by that alcove drying off if you change your mind," he said.

With that he slipped his hand away from her now throbbing seam. Trying to ignore the wave of pleasure it gave her. On opening her eyes she saw that Lucius laid on his side. Exposing his hip to Hermione. Muscular thighs. Those hands. Oh stop it, Hermione. She flushed. No matter his silken voice that spoke of dark desires. No matter what he looks like. The way he moved. It was Lucius Malfoy. The father of her enemy. Arthur's bane. MARRIED! Shaking her head she stayed there for a few moments, hoping he had come to his senses, and remembered whom she was. After she felt enough time had passed she dived under the water the way Ariel would and swam just as easily under the water.

When she reached the bank she took a deep breath. Clutching onto a tree root one side and a jutting out rock the other, Hermione climbed out. Dripping wet from every pore. Breathless. Definitely not relaxed. Cold. Still, that was her fault. She should really have bought a towel but she did not imagine being absent for this long. Stretching up she exposed her entire body to the sunshine. Hearing her joints creak. Hermione started her post-exercising ritual like she was taught at her Primary School.

"Interesting form of post swimming etiquette," said an urbane voice she had hoped had disappeared. "I prefer to lie in the sun to dry off and, on a more planned excursion, a glass of white wine, some crackers and a cake of Brie."

"You are supposed to stretch before and after exercise," Hermione replied gathering her things. "I'm going."

"Why do you not dry off first at least?" the man was aggravating. Now her legs were trembling with the ease in which he spoke to her. "The Weasley's would wrap you up in jumpers lest you catch cold," he teased.

"At least it's better than remaining with you or having to explain what took me so long when I said I would be back long before 3pm."

"How do you know what the time is?"

"Girl Guides. Position of the sun."

"Clever," Lucius purred.

Gritting her teeth Hermione wished Draco could stand up to his father. Draco would probably have been a lot easier to reject. After all, Lucius has had more practise and, it seemed; had planned her to be alone with him at some point in their acquaintance. "Goodbye."

"How are you going to release the charms I put in place?" Lucius asked, laughter in his voice. "Counter charms only work when you know the spells in the first place. You could probably make some lucky guesses but I doubt you could remove all of them. Especially as one of them is not even on the curriculum."

Note to self: No longer go anywhere alone when you know Nazi blond prats are within the vicinity. "And I suppose you are not going to release them, are you?"

"Not unless you come and dry off," Hermione did not have to turn around to see the smirk painted across his lips. Reaching the silver glint in his eyes. "Hermione, there's plenty of room."

"Fine!" she dumped her clothes on the floor. Sharply turning on her heel and was caught off balance by what she saw. Lean, lithe, lion like man, gracefully residing on a green blanket. Glistening in the golden sun from his sojourn in the lake. A more glorious image than the Sun King himself. "You could just charm yourself dry."

"Ah, but you cannot," he said. I do not intend to help you either, you lissom little cat. "Do you realise there are some Slytherins not as cultured as I?" with another dazzling smile he stroked the blanket at where she was likely to lie. Circling his fingers around where her belly button would be. "Some would have rutted you before you could blink."

"Oh so even in the Great and Noble house of Slytherin there are some wizards better than others?"

"Hierarchy is not a bad thing, Hermione."

"Not if you're on top it isn't!"

Laughter in his eyes, evident in his smile, that Hermione had said something a) amusing and b) placed an image in the depraved Wizard's head. Chewing her lower lip Hermione did not understand what had caused that look of dark mirth in his eyes. "Oh, I intend to be on top, Hermione," he said. "Join me." Warily, Hermione walked up to the blanket. Eyeing it like a fox would an already plucked and prepared chicken for it to take, placed outside the hen house it once presided in. "I admire your sense of caution, Hermione, it's almost Slytherin of you."

In a parody of Draco she bit back: "Don't touch me!" before stepping on the soft, shimmering, emerald green silk. Slowly, she lowered herself on the blanket and sat with her knees huddled to her throat.

"Sun bathe," he said. "Allow the sun to worship your body as you pay obeisance to it." She felt his hand on her shoulder again. Why was she so weak? Why couldn't she resist him? Gently, he pulled her down so she was lying flat on her back: "Now," he said, stroking her belly. "No silly rules about no touching, Hermione, I can be certain that if I had not happily come across you. Another might and that other may not have been quite so gentle."

"Draco would have given up by now."

"I know," he whispered, "but I am older, wiser and more," he slipped his hand further down to between her legs. Throbbing. Sore. Hot. "Persuasive," he finished.

"If you say so, Mr Malfoy," Hermione tried to sound blasé. "I cannot take your word on that alone, I need witnesses."

"Maybe because I have not put my case forward in such a clear manner," he growled as he lowered his head pressing his lips on hers. The tip of his tongue licked around her lower lip. "I hope this will make you bring forward the jury's verdict," he purred before caressing her mouth with his. "I happen to have three good lawyers that can testify on my behalf." Sexual puns now? Hermione did not have time to consider her own actions as she raised her arm and stroked his hair out of her face. Nipping around her mouth Lucius continued stroking the contours of her waist. Igniting her core. Her tongue, her bad - dangerous, would-never-be silenced mouth betrayed her mind which, itself, was clouded in fog. This was not thirst that could be quenched by water. No pain that could be cured by pepper up. This was primal. The entire scene was something out of a James Bond film. "Well?" he asked. Noticing her lips parting. Pupils dilated. Glowing blushing flesh: "What is the verdict?"

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn all pure blood hypocrites to hell. "Please," she murmured.

"Please, what, Hermione?" he whispered in her ear.

"Just please!" she begged.

"I need to hear those magic words?" his nose brushed aside her hair again. Not Make Love to me. How could she say what she really wanted? This was wrong. All levels of wrong. So how come it felt so right? "What would you do for this Sheriff you are so fond of?" That was cheating. Tapping into her private fantasy no one was meant to hear. "How would he want you?" Stop it! "If you are a good Witch I may even find a way to watch this film of yours." Silken promises wrapped in gossamer hiding the dagger of hate. "How about we watch it together?" he nipped her ear making her bite hard on her lower lip. Suddenly, she felt his mouth consume one of her aching, heaving hardened breasts. An action that caused her already raw sinews to shudder beneath him. "You're hurting me, Hermione," he groaned as pushed his tumicid staff on her abdomen. "The quill is full and needs to write its essay into your beautifully willing body, my dear sweet temptress."

As far she was concerned this would be her one and only encounter with the pervert: "I'm yours," she sighed. NO! Why did she have to say that? She planned on something like: Get over yourself, Malfoy. Just this once.

Not: I'm Yours.

"Damn right you are, Hermione," he purred against her lips. "Don't you forget that."

What did he mean by that? She had no idea as her stomach lurched. He had better be as powerful a Wizard as they say he is, she sighed. If they were seen or heard or both - she dreaded the repercussions - not for him. She could not care less for him. Though, happily for her, she'd be seen as the victim and he'd be sent to Azkaban.

Carefully, he untied the little straps connecting the panties together and discarded them. The fingertips grazing against her now highly sensitized flesh caused her to whimper. "You will be purring for me my sweet," he sighed. "Like the cat you are." Hooking an arm under her legs smoothly lifting them from behind the knees he gazed into her now dark brown pools of wonder. That was it, he groaned. He'd waited too long. Wedging his knee between the small gap of her thighs, Lucius parted them. Shifting his huge, hulking frame within her small body. Stroking down one of her legs with his fingernails as she seemed to respond so well to that motion. Lifting it up by the thigh, Lucius wrapped it around his waist as he kissed her throat. That beautiful, teasing throat; that he wanted to kiss since he saw her bend her head up to look at his son. Her growling hiss was all he needed to hear as he grazed his teeth against her collarbone. The other leg willingly, and with no help, completed the most intimate of hugs shared by this unorthodox of couplings.

Hot hands lowered down to her young, untested breasts straining against the fabric with decided desire. Smirking at how hard they were, he imagined the torture she would have suffered had she said no. A shiver ran through his mind of her asking one of those red haired dolts. This renewed his attack. Dipping his head he bunched one breast in his capable palm. Massaging it. Teasing it. Hungrily kissing around the hard nipple of it's twin through the soft fabric. Hissing as his teeth grazed her pleasure induced swell. Nipping harder, Lucius looked up as her eyes darkened. "No one else will be your bed fellow," he vowed, as let go of her nipple. "I will not tolerate rivals, Hermione."

"Oh gods," Hermione arched her back finally grabbing his hair in fists. "This has to be dark magic."

"Magic," he agreed, "but most certainly not dark," speedily he switched breasts - all the while her legs clamped around him eager to get more. "My, my," he whispered. "You are quite the lusty little cat, are you not?"

This was so weird, Hermione thought, am I dreaming? This is a dream. Wake up, Hermione. Please wake up, Wake… "ARGH!" she yelled as his teeth nibbled on her ear sending more natural lubricant through her drenched channel for him to sail his yacht into her port, "Mr Malfoy," she groaned as she finally lowered her head down and rested it on the dip of his collarbone. So vulnerable beneath him.

"Lucius," he hissed. "You're my lusty cat," he kissed her throat again, "Lucius," he sucked the lower juicier part of her lip. "Lucius, say it," he ground his hips against her pelvic bone. "Lucius!"

Hermione could have pushed him off there. She could have stood up and tried to find a chink in his jinx but she was too far gone now. Too overwhelmed by this lust filled haze that had clouded her judgement."Oh Merlin, Lucius!" now her voice had taken on a deeper resonance, husky, adult. Feral. It spurned Lucius on. "Why?" she asked panting. The blanket was sticking to her. Not sure now what was water and what was sweat: "Please, Lucius, why?"

Instead of answering he lowered his mouth down to her belly button. Flicking his tongue around the whirls and crevices. Scraping her fingers down the line of his spine as he began sucking the mound around it. "Oh yes," he grinned, "you keenly purr for me my darling feline." Met with mumbles and murmurs of joy. You liked that didn't you? Would you like me to … no, we must save something for another time, mustn't we: "Now, Hermione," he danced up her body. Planting his hands either side of her head. Darkened eyes hot with lust: "This will hurt but afterwards you will want it again," he stroked some hair out of her face, "and again," he whispered dipping his thumb inside her mouth. A prelude to how her centre would react to his impassioned member. Wetting his thumb with her eager, playful tongue. Watching her lap his masculine scent before she bit it with her teeth, sucking on it breathlessly, "and again…" he crushed his mouth to hers. Devouring Hermione completely taking over her senses and her last shred of hope of being able to refuse this man. Byron, you got competition! Hermione moaned his name inside his mouth. Daring not to kiss him back. She allowed his tongue to lick around her roof. Stroking the top of her own, now responsive treacherous tongue, that curled around his as if possessing him for her own. "... Hermione," he groaned. "Ready?"

"What…. OW!" she yelped as he pushed his engorged, throbbing sceptre into her soul, joining them together in a strange union. "That hurt!" her eyes glared hatefully at him.

"I did warn you," he smiled gently kissing her all too eager mouth, "but just so you do not feel too bad, I should imagine Draco's hurting even more."

Bastard. Her brown eyes focussed a look of intense anger on Lucius. "Now, my dear cat," he gently removed his quivering sword from her sheath. Exquisite, Hermione sighed. Bliss! her hiss of approval spurred Lucius on as he thrust his turgid wand deeper into her. Causing Hermione to whimper and bite her lower lip. "Purr for me, my cat," he grunted as he motioned to move out of her again. Momentum built to such an extent Lucius rocked harder into her, slamming hard against her vice like bud. Nails dug into his back. Toes curled. "PURR!" he yelled as he pounded her several times. Yelling purr with each wild thrust into her now possessed and owned femininity. "PURR! WITCH! PURR!"

Strangled moans. Sighs of such intensity fell upon his chest. Helplessly murmuring. Until Lucius pulled out of her ever so slightly causing her to hiss and arch her back up wanting to swallow all he could give inside her. Slowly, Lucius stroked up and down her sides, pulling her hips to his body. "Mmmmmmmm ohohohohohohoh!" she screamed. "OH OH OH OH!" Warm hot hands covered her thighs as entered his entire length into her small, wriggling, willing body. "Luciusssssssssssssss!" she screamed! Digging her nails into the small of his back scratching down to his buttocks. With her slight hands Hermione pushed him down, making her slam so hard into her that she temporarily blacked out. "Lucius," she whimpered as her head rolled to its side. Her arms flopped down as they lost all use of her muscles. Her body surrendered completely. "This is just so...!" she yelled as he grabbed her hips with his hands again pushed her body down onto his own, sex. "Mmmmmmmmmm," she twisted grabbing fistfuls of the blanket, "Oh oh oh oh!" Now Lucius decided to go for the kill as he felt his own release near. With one last, truly final thrust, he grunted out her name letting his seed spill within her. "You bastard, Lucius Malfoy!" she panted as she lay flat with her arms splayed as if she was making a snow fairy as he left another trail of hot, feathery kisses with his lips and eyelashes on her sweaty, flushed, and still sensitive face, neck, and chest. Still panting Lucius dove right in with his tongue where Hermione was more than willing to duel. "Why did you do this?"

"I admire beauty," he mumbled against her neck. Licking around her ear, he then proceeded to nip and suck the nape of her neck, sucking with his teeth making her whimper yet again. "Careful, dear cat, you do not wish to awaken it," his lips travelled back to that throat that had beguiled him from the start. "It hates being teased," he gently entered her one last time before the erection completely slackened. Hermione's legs shuddered around him as he slowly slipped out of her.

He finally had his muggleborn Gryffindor wench. Oh and she was superb for her first time. Imagine her excelling in the lessons he planned to give her. Exhausted, spent and satiated for now: Lucius collapsed on top of her, moaning her name over her shoulder, nibbling her one last time.

They stayed there whilst each had the time to recover. Hermione found she was dripping with blood and other fluids from her treacherous nub. Lucius picked up his wand and, thoughtfully, cleaned her up from head to toe making sure there was not so much as scar on her. "Well," he tilted his head as he contemplated his artistry on the young woman. The eyes glowed, the flesh sizzled, the smile and the dimples were more alluring than before. The wild mass of curls were like snakes from her scalp – twisting, writhing and untameable. "I will probably make a visit to the school sometime," his voice spoke volumes of how he intended to carry on playing with her. To make her drown into him. Causing her breath to diminish and her will to weaken but oh she enjoyed it! "You had best be less of a fight then."

"I thought this was only a…"

"I mean you to be mine, Hermione," he stroked along her jaw. "Mine!" he growled grabbing the hair from the back of her head with the other. Clutching onto her jaw Lucius turned her head so she could see the intent of his fire. "in every sense of the word."

"I'm not some slave to do your bidding!"

Instead of being indignant or nasty Lucius just leaned over her again before she had time to stand up and placed one gentle kiss on her still hungry lips causing them to already ache for more.

"I think we should let time decide that," he whispered.

Quickly Hermione scurried up. Rushed her shirt on. Did not even bother buttoning it. Zipped up her skirt and put her sandals on. "Bastard!" she hissed.

It was then he released the wards that had trapped her and she stormed off. "A bastard am I?" he sighed as his hooded eyes rested on the one item of clothing she unwittingly left behind. "A keepsake," he picked up the discarded lilac panties of her delectably illicit outfit. Still sticky with her essence, he threaded the laces through his fingers the way he did with her hair. "I did not know you cared."

Half an hour later Lucius slipped into the Marquee - dressed as he was before. Suave. Smiling. Congenial. "It must have been extremely sensitive," Draco said, "what have you been doing? I even asked Potter if he'd seen you."

Miss Hermione Granger, Lucius thought, screwed her senseless: "Exploring nature's bounteous delights," was Lucius calm reply. Putting his hand in his pocket he felt the fabric of the panties: "a most challenging thing to admire in all but five minutes."

Furrowing his brow Draco noticed that his father's hair was still wet. "Was it raining?"

"Of course not, Draco."

"Why is your hair wet?"

Lucius was saved having to answer when Cornelius Fudge walked in. The Minister made a bee line towards Lucius. Grabbing the man by the wrist, Cornelius enthusiastically shook Lucius warmly by the hand. If only the dolt knew where that hand had been. The thought restored Lucius equilibrium and he smiled congenially at the fat fool. "Hello, old boy, nice to see you look happy."

"Ecstatic," Lucius said in reply. Gracefully capturing a flute of bubbly from a floating tray. "One might even call it," he licked his lips. "Orgasmic."

Spluttering out his drink Draco coughed at his father's choice of words. Thankfully, Fudge was so one track minded that it missed him entirely: "Well, that is good, Mr Malfoy. I like seeing smiles. Boosts morale!"

Smirking with a dangerous curve to his lips, Lucius lifted the glass, with a quirk of the eyebrow. Raising it to his own lusty cat Hermione Granger. "My morale has already sufficiently been boosted, Cornelius," he murmured taking a sip of the champagne. "In a most satisfying manner."

"Hermione, where have you been?" Ron yelled. "You could've missed the match!" he touched her arm but she flinched a little. Knowing that the last person who touched it would not let anyone near her. Let alone Ronald Weasley. "We went all around the lake looking for you but we could not see you," he said dropping his hand. "What's wrong?"

"We were extremely worried," Ginny said, pressing her hand into Hermione's, "especially as Lucius Malfoy was nowhere to be found."

"As you can see, I am fine."

Standing behind Ginny, Harry glared through his now world famous spectacles. Hermione noticed him reaching for the red head's shoulder. Subtle, she smirked. "I bumped into Draco who was also walking around the lake."

"And?"

"He was looking for his father. He seemed somewhat distracted," Hermione hung her head, "he did not even call you… you know… that. Instead he said: When you find her - tell her I want to talk to her. Immediately."

"Um," Hermione bit her lip. Probably to tell me to stay away from his dear daddy kins. The horrible thing about it was – he was not raping her. Not really. One touch and she wilted under him. Yes, she was trapped by the charms but she had an opportunity to swim the other side and climb out and wait till nightfall. So what if she missed the match. No, that would not have worked. Lucius would have seen her and joined her. Essentially, he had trapped her. But she still did not push him off. He had not used any magic on her to make her do it. "Well, I suppose he wanted to insult me. Not important." Hermione Granger allowed herself to be seduced by Lucius Malfoy. Not only that but she liked it. Loved it. Was eager for it. Yearned for it. Even now, when she was throbbing and sore, she needed him.

"Hermione," Ginny began, "why is your hair wet?"

Wet hair? "I went for a swim," she answered. Git! Had to leave something didn't he. So I had to face awkward questions or try and lie my way out. "I must have been under water when you were doing your rounds."

Under was right. Under Lucius Malfoy. He expects round two! Why did she feel that the only person who would believe her would be Professor Snape?

"We could not see anything of the lake at all," Fred said. "Like you know, it disappeared off the face of the earth!" he stood up and puffed his chest out: "In desperation we cried," here he fell to his knees. Holding one hand over his heart, the other up high in the air and rearranging his face into one of stricken anxiety, "HERMIONE, WHERE ARE YOU? WE ARE BEREFT AND LOST WITHOUT YOU! I DON'T KNOW HOW WE CAN LIVE KNOWING YOU MAY BE DEAD! TO THINK SHE NEVER SLEPT WITH FRED WEASLEY!"

"Our head filled with all sorts of disasters that could have befallen you," George carried on. "Carried off by a Centaur because you are, ya know, beautiful like. Or a Werewolf?" Hermione flinched. "Even worse we dreaded the thought that you were under the dark machinations of YOU-KNOW-WHO'S allies!" George's eyes twinkled as he matched his brother's stance: "OH, HERMIONE! DO NOT LEAVE THIS MORTAL COIL, FOR WE ARE NOTHING WITHOUT YOU. HOW COULD YOU DIE BEFORE YOU KISSED GEORGE WEASLEY!" with that he offered her an irrepressible wink making her laugh. "Didn't you hear us?"

"No," she said. Devil, the man was a devil with blond locks. She hated how close George was to the truth. Truth be told she would rather it have been one of the twins. At least the worst fall out she could expect was having Molly show her blatant disapproval. "Did you check for charms?"

"OH, GREAT AND BEAUTIFUL HERMIONE, WE BOW TO YOUR WONDERS AND DELIGHTS! FOR WE KNIGHTS OF GRYFFINDOR DIDST INDEED FORGET TO CHECK FOR CHARMS!" Fred moaned dramatically. "MAYHAP, OUR FAIR MAIDEN SHALT FORGIVE US FOR OUR ERROR AND SHE MAY YET SLEEP WITH ME!"

"CANST THOU FORGIVE US FAIR MAIDEN FOR ALLOWING THEE TO BE MISSING WHEN, ALL ALONG, THE ANSWER WAS RIGHT IN OUR TROUSERS!"

"Shut up the pair of you!" Ginny giggled punching her brothers on their arms, "You're making her blush."

"Lucius looks happy," Arthur said entering the tent. "Just seen him looking like the cat that had the cream."

Did he have to say that expression: Eager little cat, he called her. Gods! She really was: "Did he tell you where he had been?"

"Oh, hello, Hermione," Arthur smiled, "we were about to make another tour of the lake." He then remembered the question she asked him: "Said he was contemplating nature's wondrous bounty. Who'd have thought it, eh? Lucius Malfoy; a nature lover."

Bounty? I will give him bloody Bounty! A lifetimes supply if necessary! "I need a nap before the match, if that's all right?"

"Sure," Arthur sighed. Something was different about his honorary daughter. "Hermione," he said narrowing his eyes, "did you see Lucius?"

Hermione bristled: "What makes you think I had?"

"No reason other than he was at the lake too."

"It's not like the lake is invisible," Hermione huffed. "Or small! He could have been one side and I the other," she was tired and felt ill. "If either Mr Malfoy, or I, were there someone would have seen us." Every single bit of us!

"All right, Hermione," Arthur was gentle in approaching her. "We were worried, that's all, worried. I have a duty of care to you because your parents can't be here," here he wrapped his arms around her waist comforting her. Oh Arthur, she sighed. Nestling in his ragged but cosy body. Stiffly she pulled back as she recalled the last hug she got. "Go on, have your nap," he sighed.

Whatever signs the others had missed Arthur saw something. Guilt. What had Hermione done to make her stiffen in his arms when she had not done so before?

If Hermione had known what was going to happen in the coming year she would have disappeared then and there. Preferably to a place unknown. Especially to a certain blond haired, dark master, elitist, Nazi supremacist arrogant wizard who had deflowered her and was prepared to do so again.

The worst part was, she was already eager for it herself. She had to speak to Professor Snape the moment she got to Hogwarts.