Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and/or the characters of the original story created by J.K. Rowling.

Chapter Eleven

Hermione was the first to awake the following morning. Quietly, she slipped from the bed and went to take a shower. As she ran the wash cloth along her skin, images of Lucius' hands smoothing along her body the night prior bombarded her. Her mind, a torturous thing, replayed every touch, every fondle, every insistent press of his lips and her cheeks bloomed with embarrassed heat.

She fought to suppress the images but there was one thing her mind disallowed her to ignore: last night she'd lost her virginity to Lucius Malfoy; last night she'd given her body to the man responsible for her friends and family's deaths.

Shame usurped embarrassment and she began to cry softly. She felt like the worst kind of traitor, probably even worse than Lucius himself who'd abandoned his master. She'd completely disregarded her principles and had succumbed to her body's desires. How could she have allowed Lucius Malfoy to touch her let alone take her only remaining virtue? Why hadn't she resisted him?

Malfoy, can I kiss you?

Merlin, how could she have resisted him when it was she who'd initiated the first contact? She was the one who'd asked for a kiss, not the other way around. Lucius Malfoy was a man. A man who'd been very open about his attraction for her and her request for a kiss was like an open invitation for more. There was nobody to blame but herself.

Angrily, she wiped away the tears, titling her face upward so that the spray of warm water could wash away the evidence of her crying. What was done was done. No use crying over spilt milk or lost virginities. She'd been just as attracted to Lucius as he to her. How they'd grown from hate to lust was beyond her. What she knew, though, was that inevitably they'd have arrived at this very destination so long as they were in company of each other.

Finished showering, she stepped out onto the bathmat and began drying herself. She refused to pity herself. A young woman losing her innocence was a common thing, and at least he'd been gentle. Admittedly, she had even enjoyed it. Even though he hadn't been her first choice, he certainly hadn't been her worst. His ministrations had lit her body ablaze with want and as he'd moved within her, she'd moaned his name in ecstasy with each stroke of his…

Blushing furiously, desire slowly reawakened at her train of thought. She determinedly blocked all thoughts of Lucius as she busily wrapped the towel around her body. Realising she'd forgotten to walk with a clean dress, she made her way from the bathroom to the bedroom and found Lucius sitting at the edge of the bed, massaging his injured shoulder.

He looked up at the sound of her feet, arresting her with his gaze. Hermione froze, unsure of what to say or do. She knew things might have been awkward but she hadn't expected this oppressing force of self-consciousness. Then his gaze left her face to scrutinize her towel and Hermione was suddenly highly aware of her nakedness beneath the material. She gripped the towel tighter to her body.

He stood and excitement and desire began coursing through her blood. He walked to where she stood rooted, towering over her. Settling his hands on her hips, he walked her backwards against the wall, next to the desk.

Lifting his left hand, he ran his index finger along her shoulder then rubbed the digit against his thumb. Slowly, easily, he released her fingers from her towel as though she hadn't been clenching the material and with a slight tug, the towel fluttered off of her body to the floor.

She raised her hands to cover herself but he stayed her hand. Bending his head, he kissed her and when she made a little gasp of surprise, he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Leisurely, he explored her mouth, his tongue coaxing hers and she relented. She kissed him back, their tongues tangling, their teeth grazing each others lips.

He reached down between her legs and rubbed her sex. Finding her wet, he inserted a finger insider her then two and began to move them slowly in and out. Gripping his shoulder, Hermione spread her legs wider, moaning into his mouth when his thumb found her nub and rubbed it in time to his stroking fingers.

Releasing her from the kiss, he trailed his hot mouth downward to encircle an exposed breast. He ran his tongue along the underside then licked all the way up to suck and bite her nipple. Hermione threw her head back with a moan of pleasure, moving her hips involuntarily to the movement of his fingers.

All thoughts of guilt and pity were washed away as Lucius carried her nearer and nearer to the height of satisfaction. She felt her climax building, the pressure heavy in the bottom of her belly. She lifted her hips, urging him on and he did. He moved his fingers faster and more insistent, as he feasted on her other breast. He curled the tips of his fingers and began dragging them against her inner walls, rubbing so sweetly that Hermione's legs began to shake.

He lifted his head, leaning his face against hers, he whispered huskily into her ear, "Come for me," and he licked her earlobe. "Come for me."

It was an order she could not disobey. Moments later, she came hard on his fingers, crying out her release. Her entire body shook and her knuckles were white as she clenched his shoulders from the intensity of her climax. Her breathing uneven, she lifted her eyes to connect with Lucius' darkened gaze.

She was just about to ask him whether he wanted to go further—the phrasing of such a question too embarrassing to contemplate—when he turned away and headed into the bathroom. Blinking confusedly, she stood up straight and stared at the closed bathroom door. Didn't he want her? She knew he did for she'd seen the way he'd looked at her, so why did he leave? Did he want her to follow him?

At the sound of the shower's pipe being turned on, Hermione's question was answered. Bending, she retrieved the towel from the floor, folded it and placed it on the desk's surface. She then went to collect the backpack. Plopping it onto the bed, she began to rummage through for a clean pair of underwear when her eye caught the bed sheet.

Turning fully, she surveyed the dark brown spot on the bed. It was the evidence of what was and what would never be again, and at the sight of it, she turned away. Her emotions were conflicted. On one hand, guilt, sadness, regret and fear persisted, whilst on the other hand, she felt a sense of power, she felt attractive, worthwhile and even almost loved.

Loved?

No! Lucius Malfoy did not love her and he never will. Sexual attraction should never be misconstrued for something as powerful and meaningful as love! To think such a man could be capable of that emotion was preposterous. He had killed for a living. He had actually upheld beliefs that people like her were worthless and served a better purpose being dead.

And who was to know if he didn't still believe so? Indeed, he could still very well hold on to his prejudices even in the face of his desire for her. What if he'd just wanted a taste of her body to get over his attraction? What if what they'd done last night hadn't meant as much to him as it did to her?

Did last night mean something to me?

Doing what she did best, she ignored the thought; outright refused to even reflect on the matter. She returned to her search for clean knickers and upon finding them, she dressed herself. By the time she'd finished securing the last button to her dress—grumbling how she really missed jeans—Lucius returned to the bedroom, a towel barely clinging on to his waist.

She didn't stick around. Mumbling that she'd be waiting downstairs in the foyer, she left the room like demons were on her heels.

Lucius took his time to dress. His shoulder and ribs ached and he didn't want to upset them further by dressing hurriedly. He longed for relief from the pain but the girl had neglected to administer whatever methods she used and he had not bothered to learn them so he didn't know how to do it.

This fact bothered Lucius, as well as others he was reluctant to delve too deep into. To think he'd become so dependent, so trusting of this girl to leave his health completely up to her. For all he knew, she could hardly be doing anything to make him better, yet he allowed her to do as she pleased with his body.

He ruminated over the events of the past twenty four hours clinically. Yesterday, they'd arrived at Penrith. Last night he'd had sex with her. This morning, he'd almost had sex with her again. He reassured himself that nothing spectacular had occurred from yesterday to today and he needn't feel as though a shift of some sort had taken place.

The only change is that I am satisfied, he thought. He'd been in constant lust for the girl and last night had sated his desires. It didn't matter that he'd been unable to resist touching her this morning. There was nothing to be read in the pride he'd felt being her first lover, or the way she'd moaned his name during her fits of pleasure. Any man would feel a sense of satisfaction in that regard. He wasn't any different. No, hardly anything worth mulling over actually.

Dismissing any notions or little voices that disagreed, he secured his belt then made his way down to the foyer where he found her chattering away smilingly with a young man. Fleetingly, he thought to himself that the girl had never smiled at him as genuinely as she did now to this fellow and again, he dismissed any ludicrous idea that he was jealous.

Him? Jealous? How absurd! Besides, the young man had boring, forgettable features and he appeared somewhat dull. The girl was much too intelligent to waste her interest on the likes of him. In any case, to dissuade any ideas on the young man's part, he decided to make his presence known and, yet again, he brushed aside the very inkling that he was 'marking his territory'. He was simply playing his part as a fake husband to the best of his ability, nothing more.

"Hello, dearest," he greeted as he slid his hands possessively around her waist.

Startled, Hermione jumped slightly before she turned and gave him a shaky smile. "Hello…dear."

"And who do we have here?" he queried, turning his gaze on the young man.

The young man, who'd been enchanted by Hermione and had hoped to ask her out for lunch suddenly realised that he might have been safest never approaching Hermione at all. A silent, deadly power emanated from this blond haired and, by the way he was holding Hermione's waist so possessively, he was now aware of the man's position in her life.

"Oh, this is David," she said. "He was just telling me the most interesting news."

"Indeed?" replied Lucius, lifting an eyebrow. "And may I ask what this interesting news is?"

Tapping the paper in his hand, his face grim, David replied, "Apparently, a traveller passing through Braithwaite found hundreds of rotting corpses laying about the streets. It seems the entire town was murdered or suffered a collective mysterious death and the police are conducting investigations."

"Let me see that paper," Lucius demanded and David relinquished it immediately.

"You can keep it," David said. "Anyway, I'll be off. See you!"

Hermione waved and Lucius completely ignored him as he unfolded the paper and began reading the article. He yielded little more than what David had already said even though he knew a lot more had gone on behind the scenes than the paper would ever know. Folding the paper, he threw it in a receptacle that had revolving arrows on the front.

Turning, he found her staring at him nervously. "Is something the matter?" he asked.

Hugging herself, she replied, "No…yes…maybe."

Stepping closer to her, "Which is it then?"

He watched as a riot of emotions fluttered across her face before she looked away from him.

"Never mind," she said and he was relieved. He had a suspicion that she'd been about to launch into a discussion on what had happened between them and he hadn't wanted that. Her questions concerning his actions would only meddle with his own personal inquiries which he was steadfastly refusing to contemplate. Things were good just the way they were: he wanted her, she wanted him and whenever the need arose to act on that lust, they'd do so. No discussions, please, thank you very much.

He nodded, "Well then, if my memory serves me correctly, the hotel serves breakfast from seven to ten. If we hurry we may be able to have some…"

After breakfast, Hermione's mood lightened considerably. Soon, all embarrassing thoughts and awkward moments dissipated enough that Hermione was able to conduct a decent conversation with Lucius. Somehow or the other, they'd manage to get into a lengthy and spirited discussion on William Shakespeare's Macbeth. Predictably, she criticised Macbeth's actions and claimed, in very self-righteous tones, that his fate had been deserved. Lucius, on the other hand, disagreed with her high-and-mighty opinions and strove to make her understand the reasons behind Macbeth's deeds.

Thankfully, lunch was also served on the hotel's premises. Both Hermione and Lucius had loathed leaving the safety of their hiding place and although grilled cheese sandwiches weren't much, it was far better than risking the outdoors. Following lunch, Hermione had found a Scrabble game and had challenged Lucius to a round. Although Lucius could hold his own in a game of Scrabble, he was still no match for Hermione who was a voracious reader and who'd also had plenty of practice with her parents.

Unfortunately, the hotel did not serve dinner but they didn't mind. After surviving weeks on one to two meals a day, it wasn't uncommon for them to go to sleep hungry. Instead, they absorbed their minds and their stomachs in a short game of billiards, due to Lucius' shoulder. Hermione was surprised that he was familiar with the game—just as much as when she'd found out he knew how to play Scrabble—and she was even more so when she realised he was very good at it. Too good, as a matter of fact, so she accused him of cheating with wandless magic and he pretended to be affronted.

Their camaraderie lasted right up until bedtime. As they made their way up to their room, she was suddenly very aware of his presence behind her. The image of the spot on the bed sheet haunted her and it wasn't long before all that they'd done, or that he'd done to her came flying back to memory.

She was terrified and excited. She didn't want him making any advances on her but deep, deep down, there was a hope that he did.

Moments later, she encountered a slight dilemma. What was she to wear to bed? She only had one two dresses, one she'd worn the day before and the one she wore now. They were both long and bulky, made for cold weather; she'd sweat like a boiled sausage if she wore either to bed. Last night, she hadn't this problem. After she and Lucius had…after that, she'd fallen asleep naked without a care. She couldn't possibly do the same tonight, it'll only tempt him.

Isn't that what you want?

Certainly not! She was sleepy and hungry. All she wanted was some food and a bed but the latter was the only thing available at the moment. Resignedly, she thought to herself that only way she could not appear a tease or ridiculous in her attempts was to simply wear her bra and knickers and make sure the sheets covered her completely.

So, shyly excusing herself, she went into the bathroom and undressed. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. She contemplated showering again but decided to wait until the next morning. Eventually, after reassuring herself that sleeping in bed with Lucius was far less intimate than what had transpired the night prior, she stepped outside into the bedroom, clutching her dress to her body. Upon approaching the bed, she found Lucius had already changed and fallen asleep.

She sighed with relief and a little bit of regret.

AN: Another chapter that, hopefully, delved a bit into their current feelings. I apologise for its shortness. I will be updating chapter twelve by next Sunday, maybe earlier, and I promise some action/adventure.

Thanks to all those who kindly reviewed Chapter Ten. Your words of encouragement and praise never cease to make me grin like an idiot.

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