A/N Thank you so much to all the people who reviewed, followed and favourite this story. It's my first ever fanfic and I'm not really sure I expected anybody to read it! I must confess I had planned this as a one shot but I forgot to tick the complete box when I was posting it. A few people have asked for more and I haven't been able to stop thinking about what might happen next so I've plotted out a longer story - I think it will be about ten chapters.
Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, I haven't quite worked out how to answer them yet but they made my day!
Was there something on the wall behind her? Hermione turned as subtly as she could to see nothing but grey stone. She raised a hesitant hand to her brown curls, it wouldn't be the first time she had gone out with a quill still stuck in her birds nest hair. Anxiously she smoothed her locks, there didn't seem to be anything there. Across the Hogwarts boardroom Lucius Malfoy smirked and continued to stare at her.
What? She thought irritably. Did she have food around her mouth? A smudge of soot on her cheek from an earlier floo trip? Why on earth was Lucius Malfoy ex-death eater extraordinnaire staring at her with such interest? His grey eyed gaze dropped down from her face to linger on her breasts.
Oh!
Hermione's eyes clashed with his.
He wants me!
Surely not.
Well two could play his game. She returned his appraisal with equal frankness, starting at his flowing blond hair and working her way down his torso, she was only sorry that the boardroom table prevented her from ogling his crotch.
Lucius Malfoy must be nearing fifty but he was still the most irritatingly handsome man Hermione had ever seen. He must have a hideous portrait shut away in some unused wing of Malfoy Manor she thought bitterly regarding the smooth, unlined skin around his grey eyes, his aquiline nose and the full, plush curves of his mouth. His hair was as silky as ever, without a hint even of grey and his torso, as far as she could tell, remained hard beneath his clothes. No hint of the paunch he so richly deserved. How could anyone so evil be so beautiful?
He was still staring at her, completely still, his attention riveted on her body. She was about to look away, bored of whatever game he was playing when she felt it, a flicker of desire which rapidly burst into flame.
Oh no! Not here not now!
She looked away a blush staining her cheeks. How could she? After all she had seen, after all he had done, how could she want this man?
He was waiting for her at the gates. She knew it as soon as she saw him still standing there after everyone else had departed. Still staring her with those cool grey eyes which somehow managed to set her on fire.
Walk away, she told herself, just ignore him and walk away.
Instead, ensnared by his serpent like gaze, she moved close enough for him to wrap his arms around her.
When the dizziness of apparition wore off she realised she was in Malfoy Manor. Not a place she would ever have chosen to visit again but the terror and anger she would have expected was absent. All she felt was a thrumming heat between her legs, almost painful in its urgency. She didn't quite know how she ended up on her hands and knees one the marble floor. He was behind her, urgently pushing her clothes out of the way, tearing her knickers. She was almost sobbing with the need to feel him inside her and as soon as he plunged his cock into her slick wetness she felt herself shatter in the most mind blowing orgasm she had ever experienced. Too overcome to wonder if premature ejaculation was as disappointing in women as it was in men she could do nothing but moan as her body contracted endlessly around his. Malfoy didn't fare much better than she. After a few desperate thrusts which had her sliding across the marble floor he swore loudly and began to pulse within her setting off another flurry of contractions she was unable to control.
The entire thing was over in seconds and he pulled out of her abruptly, helping her to her feet with something of his usual overstated chivalry. She stared at him for a moment, his cheeks were flushed and his hair a little less pristine than usual but otherwise he was a perfect as always. She nodded briefly at him and apparated away.
She could not believe she had fucked Lucius Malfoy. Well actually, Lucius Malfoy had fucked her. And she had liked it. Well not liked exactly. Hermione took a restorative sip of tea and stroked Crookshanks who was asleep in her lap. It had of course been the best orgasm she had ever experienced but in truth the sex hadn't been great. It was clear to her that the idea of being fucked by Lucius Malfoy was what had turned her on so spectacularly. He had done nothing really other than stick his cock in her, the rest had all been her. She clenched her thighs in remembered pleasure, admittedly he had had a very large cock and it had felt spectacular as he filled her with it but he hadn't exactly conducted himself with the skill and artistry she had expected. When he had apparated away with her she had half expected to spend the next twenty four hours being made love to by a skilled master of seduction. The reality had probably been closer to twenty four seconds, although it may well have been the best twenty four seconds of her life so far.
Based on her hypothesis that it was the idea of Lucius Malfoy that was central to her ongoing sexual satisfaction Hermione purchased a very large vibrator and let her imagination go to town. For the next week she and Lucius conducted a torrid affair in her head which saw him take advantage of her in almost every way possible. It was thrilling, terrifying and ultimately unsatisfying. Yes she got herself off adequately every time but nothing came close to the orgasm she had experienced with Lucius.
Hermione was a pragmatist. Her sex life to-date had been mediocre at best and until Lucius Malfoy had decided to stare at her breasts during the Hogwarts board of governors meeting she had not necessarily been particularly unhappy with this. Sex could be a distraction, at least mediocre sex was unlikely to distract her from her work. But Lucius...Lucius was distracting her with his very memory.
By the end of the week Hermione had worked herself up into such a state of sexual frustration that when she saw Lucius in the corridor at the ministry she almost Imperioed him on the spot. Never had she come so close to using an unforgivable curse. The brief look he had given her had been cool and disinterested but Hermione was too far gone at this point to consider the possibility that he didn't want her as badly as she wanted him. She had placed a tracker charm on his retreating back and as soon as he made it home she had apparated straight to Malfoy Manor.
The sex the second time had been considerably more satisfying. She had managed not to come as soon as he entered her although Merlin knew how when she was so turned on at the sight of him. This time she got to look at his beautiful face as he fucked her. His cold grey eyes narrowed into slits, his mouth twisted into a sneer as he plunged into her. Hermione was no legilimens but she could almost hear his thoughts, could feel his horror and revulsion as he fucked a mudblood desperately against the gates of his family home. He was as powerless to resist this strange attraction as she and it was this knowledge which tumbled her over the edge bringing her to a climax even more seismic than the one she had experienced with him before. She had needed to get away, to leave immediately before she fell at his feet and begged him to keep her forever.
She would not do that again. She promised herself firmly. She even made a note in her diary.
I absolutely will not fuck Lucius Malfoy again.
Three days later she tore the page out of her diary and burnt it. Then she made a list of possible ways in which she might 'casually' encounter Lucius Malfoy. She burnt that too.
The following day he appeared outside her flat, clutching a bottle of wine and looking...nervous? Surely not. She took him into her bedroom and that was where it happened. That was when the Lucius Malfoy she had imagined suddenly took shape in reality. He was brutal. There was not an ounce of affection or gentleness in the way he took her. He wrung her orgasms from her with brute force, leaving her whimpering, pleading with him to stop or not stop, she wasn't sure which. By the time he allowed himself to come, shuddering violently on top of her Hermione was lost. She was too exhausted to think, to question, to wonder what any of this meant. All she knew, as he began to reach for his clothes, was that he could not be allowed to leave.
"Stay." She placed her hand on his arm. She would not embarrass herself with further begging but she allowed some of her need to show in her eyes. He looked at her with surprise. Then some unidentifiable emotion flickered across his face. Wordlessly he lay down next to her, pulling the sheets over their bodies.
He came back. More than once, several times, then almost every day. Every time Hermione promised herself that it would be the last time. That she would turn him away. She had a ten year plan and taking a lover who had once been Lord Voldemort's staunchest supporter was not part of it. She shuddered to think what her friends would say if they found out who was warming her bed. So she didn't tell them. This was infinitely preferable to getting rid of Lucius.
They didn't talk. Not unless you counted words like 'Harder, faster, please, oh please fuck me now' in which case Hermione was an insufferable chatterbox whilst Lucius remained generally taciturn. Despite their lack of conversation their time together was companionable. Whilst Lucius's primary purpose was undoubtedly to satisfy a libido which Hermione had not known she possessed he surprised her by providing companionship with his silent presence. Hermione had never known herself to go so long in the company of another person without asking questions but with Lucius she felt strangely comfortable. Perhaps it was an illusion. Common sense dictated that if she and Lucius were to discuss anything, other than which sexual position they favoured, then they would disagree, it therefore seemed better that they simply not talk thus securing the future of their immensely satisfying sex life.
She couldn't go on like this. It was unhealthy. She knew it. Her friends hadn't noticed yet, she hadn't really gone out much before she had started fucking Lucius and dates had been few and far between. Nonetheless she had her ten year plan. She was supposed to be meeting her future husband sometime in the next two years and she wasn't going to meet anybody underneath Lucius Malfoy.
Taking this into consideration she accepted the next date she was invited on from a colleague at the ministry. Hermione was head of muggle relations and her counterpart in goblin relations had been making eyes at her for months. He was a tall, blond haired pureblood. It was just a co-incidence Hermione told herself as she prepared for their date. She wondered if Lucius would come to her flat that evening. If so he would realise she wasn't in and take himself home again. She wondered if he had any other witches on the go and mentally slapped herself when her subconscious recoiled at the thought.
Lucius Malfoy will never be yours. She told herself firmly.
So go out and find yourself a decent husband, not an ex-death eater old enough to be your father.
The date wasn't exactly a disaster. To classify it as such Hermione would have had to have been considerably more invested in the process. It was dull. She didn't want to talk to Simon. Even though she loved her job and was interested in his. Even though he was tall and blond and terribly good looking. Even though it was election year and he would be a valuable ally should she decide to stand for minister (this thought alone prolonged the date at least two hours beyond what would otherwise have been its shelf life.) Despite the evening having as much sexual tension as one of Professor Binns' lessons on the goblin rebellions Hermione still allowed Simon to kiss her at the apparition point before she made her way home.
She had hoped that her sexual awakening at the hands of Lucius was more of a generalised process. That he had somehow opened a doorway within her psyche fundamentally changing the way she felt about sex with all partners. She had genuinely hoped that Simon would set her alight in the same way that Lucius did. She remained decidedly unignited. She gently untangled herself from her date and apparated home. Outside her door she hesitated, casting a tempus charm. It was almost midnight, too late to show up uninvited at Malfoy Manor.
Lucius was inside her flat. He was lounging in her chair, reading one of her books and (admittedly) drinking his own wine. He looked completely at home. She informed him of her date with a certain amount of malice. She kept her eyes on his, looking for something, a flicker of response, a suggestion that he was wounded by this information. There was nothing, he looked around him as if expecting his usurper to appear at any moment. When Simon was not forthcoming he had the audacity to summon her to his lap like she was a piece of baggage. Her indignation was short lived. It was dispelled as soon as he slid his cock inside her.
Lucius was a very dominant lover a fact which Hermione generally appreciated. In every other facet of her life she strove for control, absolute control where possible. It was exhausting. Sometimes she thought that she so readily accepted Lucius's incursion into her life because being held down and fucked was just so easy. Sex with Lucius left her sated and boneless and allowed her to fall into a deep dreamless sleep of the sort she had not enjoyed since before the war. All that being said it was also nice to have a chance to take charge over him for once. Whilst Hermione was under no illusion that she truly dominated Lucius in this position she enjoyed controlling the angle and speed of his penetration. She enjoyed even more seeing the naked desire in his eyes as he pulled down the top of her dress and divested her of her bra so he could watch her tits as she fucked him. Bouncing up and down in his lap also gave her the rare privilege of a front row seat when Lucius Malfoy completely lost control. Her eyes fixed on his Hermione caught the flicker of panic as she pushed him over the edge and he clutched her hips with bruising strength emptying himself into her in a succession of shuddering thrusts.
Afterwards he couldn't look at her. He picked her up, carried her into the bedroom and set to with his head between her legs and a degree of enthusiasm Hermione had never encountered before. Before she completely lost control of her faculties she considered the look of horror in his face as he realised that he was going to come before her. Clearly it was part of his pureblood code of honour that he could not leave a woman unsatisfied and his perceived failure had deeply shamed him. She might have considered it further had her orgasm not suddenly consumed her leaving her moaning helplessly and incapable of coherent thought.
She had just been about to fall asleep when he had made his unprecedented request that she not go on any further dates. Part of her had riled against his dictatorial tone. How dare he tell her what she could and could not do? Except he hadn't told her, he had merely stated his preferences. The reality was that Hermione didn't really want to go on another date. She would rather sit in silence with Lucius than engage anyone else in conversation. She decided not to give this rather disturbing revelation any further thought.
Hermione was absolutely not developing feelings for Lucius Malfoy. It was inconceivable. For one thing they had never had a conversation unless she counted him whispering obscenities regarding her blood status in her ear while he fucked her (that absolutely, definitely did not turn her on, at all). For another he had stood by and witnessed her torture at the hands of his insane sister in law and been the staunch supporter of the world's worst megalomaniac psychopath. These were all good reasons for her to keep her feelings regarding Lucius strictly carnal.
A very good reason for not developing any sort of tender feelings towards Lucius (aside from the strong arguments already given) was the fact that his interest had appeared to lie only in sex. Until the strange night he appeared in her bedroom after she had retired for the night. He undressed with all the finesse of someone who is slightly drunker than they think they are trying to be very quiet. Hermione was intrigued. She hadn't seen Lucius drunk before and she wondered how it would affect his sexual performance. She could not have been more surprised by his actions. He climbed carefully into the bed and edged closer to her pulling her into the circle of his arms. She waited, her body thrumming with expectation. His breathing slowed. Hermione let out a surprised huff. He was asleep!
He was still asleep when she left the next morning. She took her time admiring him before she slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. Lucius was always beautiful but in sleep he looked like an angel. The harsh lines of his face were completely erased, the calculating grey eyes hidden and the condescending sneer missing from his sculpted mouth. Hermione gave a soft sigh as she looked at him before reminding herself that if his personality was as beautiful as his face he would be a very boring man indeed and quite out of her league.
The ministry summer ball was approaching rapidly and Hermione's VIP ticket had arrived. She wondered if Lucius was going. Something imperceptible had changed between them but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. There had been a strange incident the previous week where Lucius had asked her what he ought to do with his Gringotts stock. He had sought her opinion and from his response the day the stock dropped she thought he had taken her advice. She smiled at the memory.
He had burst into her office and snarled a dismissal at poor Bertie Todsbury who was there to discuss strengthening the muggle repelling charms around the newly built national quidditch arena. Poor Bertie had fled and Lucius had warded the doors before dropping to his knees between Hermione's legs. He had pushed up her skirt, sliding his hands under her buttocks and pulling her forwards. To Hermione's slight irritation (they were her favourite pair) he had simply ripped her knickers apart before applying his tongue to her sex. Her irritation had been short lived. He had taken his time despite her hands twisting in his hair and her voice urging him on. Pushing her legs as widely apart as her skirt would allow he had run the flattened length of his tongue repeatedly up and down the lips of her sex before slipping the agile muscle between her folds. Hermione had whimpered as he fucked her with his tongue. He had replaced his tongue with his fingers moving his mouth up to the sensitive bud of her clitoris. He flicked backwards and forwards across it as his fingers plunged in and out of her wet slick sex. Hermione couldn't take it much longer. She heard her voice incoherently begging him not to stop. He didn't. Instead he hooked his fingers against the front wall of her vagina at the same time biting gently on her clitoris. Hermione exploded bucking her pelvis into his face, screaming his name as she came. When she unclasped her fingers from their death grip on his hair he had sat back on his heels and looked up at her with an inscrutable expression. Very slowly he had removed a handkerchief from his pocket (who carries a handkerchief?) and dabbed his lips. Then he had kissed the back of her hand and swept out of the room as though he hadn't just deconstructed her sexually on her office chair.
Perhaps the office incident was what was worrying her. It was a break in their routine, an indication that perhaps their relationship had shifted in some way. What on earth was she going to do if he suggested they attend the ministry ball together?
He didn't. In fact he wasn't going at all. Hermione didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.
Except he did come to the ball. And he swept her out onto the dance floor like Cinderella and Prince Charming (if Prince Charming had been an Ex Death Eater of questionable moral standing) and then he asked her on a date! At least she thought it was a date. He wanted to take her to dinner. In a restaurant, to eat with her in public. And she was too afraid to accept. Everybody would see her. What on earth would they say, at the site of Hermione Granger, one third of the golden trio, the Princess of Gryffindor on a date with Lucius Malfoy? Rita Skeeter would have a field day. But then it occurred to her just how much Lucius had to lose. The head of one of the oldest and most illustrious pureblood families in the wizarding world dating a mudblood and Harry Potter's dearest friend to boot. If Lucius could put his prejudices aside then surely she could to. And she did want to go to dinner with him, she wanted to ask him irritating questions about the menu, she wanted to see which wine he would order, she wanted to run her foot along the back of his calf under the table. She wanted to have a conversation, she wanted to know what is favourite food was, whether he enjoyed quidditch (she hoped not) and just what products he used to keep his hair so silky smooth.
She wanted Lucius Malfoy and the world was going to find out eventually. Surely it would just be easier to make her declaration now? So she stood on her tiptoes and snogged him in front of the entire wizarding world including Harry and Ron and just hoped to hell that he was worth it.