Well, here we are. After far too long, I have finally got another chapter for you. Yes, it was nearly ready to go for many weeks, but not quite. Sorryyyyyyy! I could say I have lots of lovely plans for this story, which is true, but I won't promise anything, as I have fallen into that trap before. But - I have actually got lots of lovely plans for this story, and many are already committed to paper (well, HD anyway). So ... be optimistic! I have also put links to banners I have made for my stories (including this one) on my profile page. They took lots of time to do - far more than it would appear - go and look!!! That's an order! (Not really)

I am also intending to post a Remus/Hermione one-shot in the not too distant future ... Watch this space.

So, thank you for your patience. I apologise profusely for my tardiness in posting. And also - thank you, thank you, thank you for your lovely reviews. I am ashamed that I have not responded to them all personally, as I always used to do - blame life and kids and what-have-you, but please know that I read them all and value them all immensely.

Right, I'll shut up now. Enjoy! x

Lucius stood back and looked over her body, but did not meet her eyes. His hands moved to his own clothing and he removed his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. He did so with slow deliberation. It was only then that Hermione felt the first hint of uncontrolled longing. A moan broke free from her lips.

Lucius paused in his actions and raised an eyebrow to her before carefully continuing to undo the buttons. Eventually he had worked his way to the bottom of his shirt and with a fluid action, flexed his shoulders to pull it off.

He stood before her, his pale skin glowing in the candlelight, as if imparting a radiance itself to the dimness of the room. The darkness of his legs, still clad in thick, black material, contrasted with his luminous torso. Hermione longed for his touch and instinctively tried to move her arms to reach out to him. She could not and sobbed with despair.

Lucius did not move for a moment, but then stepped towards her again and once more inclined his head to whisper in her ear. She thrashed her head towards him, but he evaded any contact, eliciting another groan from his lover.

"You must calm ... still ..." His low tones travelled through her entire being. "If you do ... you will reap the rewards. I want you to experience it. I want you to experience the release, the forsaking of responsibility."

"Why?"

His eyes at last moved to hers. Lucius paused, but then heard his thoughts formed out loud in the air between them. "Because you deserve it."

Hermione held his gaze.

He knew he should look away, but in truth, he did not want to. His hand came up and turning it, he lightly stroked the back of one finger down the side of her cheek. She sobbed again, but not this time with frustration.

His finger moved to her lips, and rested on them. "Shhh ... accept, relinquish your hold ..."

"I ..."

Her words were stifled. He had placed a scarf, tightly coiled, in her mouth. She tried to finish her sentence, but could not. The gag was not uncomfortable, but took away one of the assets she relied on most in life – her voice.

His hand continued to run over her face, stroking her hair and caressing her skin which ignited under his touch. "So beautiful." His words were so genuine and tender that a tear fell onto her cheekbone, caught there before tumbling further.

His hand moved down her body, touching her flesh, which rose in goosebumps under him, despite the fact that she was burning with desire.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, low and honeyed.

She shook her head.

His hand was cupping a breast. He looked down at it, an expression of awed reverence on his face. His thumb rubbed over the nipple, causing the already taut flesh to swell and harden further. He glanced up into her eyes. They were wide with expectation.

"Do you think I will hurt you?"

She did not move.

"Do you think I want to hurt you?"

She could not move. He averted his gaze, as if thinking of the answer himself.

"I do not." His eyes returned to study her curiously. "Does that disappoint you?"

He awaited her response. When none was forthcoming he cocked an eyebrow to illicit one. She eventually shook her head, but not forcefully. He smirked. His thumb and forefinger closed around her nipple and he pinched, gently at first, but with growing strength, not relinquishing his hold. Hermione groaned into her gag. She wanted to recoil against the pain, but found it simply surged through her body, culminating in a coiling knot of pleasure deep within. He slackened his hold.

"I do not believe you. But I shall do no more. I have no wish to. I cannot disturb your perfection." His hands moved up and down her body again, running over the curves of her waist and hips. "However, I cannot guarantee there will be no discomfort. You must allow it to inform your pleasure."

Hermione was breathing heavily, the gag in her mouth making it necessary. Her clit was throbbing with need, desperate for his touch. She sobbed against the cloth in her mouth. But he avoided her and knelt at her feet. She knew what he was doing. He tied a ribbon around her right ankle, and, pulling her foot over, tied it to the foot of the bed. He did the same with the other ankle. She was spread-eagled and immobile before him. Lucius raised himself up and stood looking at her. Then he moved forward, and slowly and gently pulled the gag from her mouth. She gasped in for air, but his hands cupped her head and he swiftly moved down to her, kissing her hungrily, his tongue immediately sliding in to sweep around, coating her mouth, dry from the gag, with his own moisture.

He allowed her to savour the kiss for a while, and they stood joined at the lips. Then he pulled back, immediately replacing the gag. His mouth travelled down her neck, past her collar bone, until it reached her breasts. He kissed the soft plump flesh and came at length to the nipple. It was yearning for his touch after the attention it had received earlier and Hermione pushed into his mouth. He took the tight bud of flesh in his lips and sucked it hard. She moaned into her gag. She could feel his hardness pressing against her belly, but it remained tightly concealed in his clothing. Lucius felt the nipple swell further in his mouth. He groaned, delighting in the hard little nub dancing on his tongue. Hermione was grinding her hips against him and he could hold back no more. He needed to sense her pleasure. As slowly as he could, he reached between her legs, almost surprised by the wetness of her inner thighs. She was moaning almost constantly now. He allowed her to. It was a sign of her abandonment.

His fingers gently, teasingly, parted the wet folds, flitting, fluttering over them. She jerked as much as she could onto his hand. He pulled back, drawing a sob from her, stifled in the gag. It was a supremely erotic sound.

His mouth remained at her breast, and his fingers at last began to quest further. One slid up deep inside her, circling, then out to stroke languidly up towards her clit. He let the nipple in his mouth pop out, then moved to the other. More muffled groans could be heard from above him. His fingers worked more fervently. The breathing of the woman against him shifted. She was now pulling in short, shallow breaths. He knew what it meant. He increased his efforts, sucking hard at the nipple, occasionally running his teeth over it. His fingers stroked, coaxed, pulled her pleasure out. Hermione's mind was a haze. She wanted to reach for him, hold him, guide him, but she neither could nor needed to. She was entirely in the hands of this man, this man whom ten years before may happily have killed her. Now, she was utterly dependent on him for her pleasure, and she delighted in it. It was the most liberating experience she had ever had. Lucius' fingers and mouth moved on her, and she came, profoundly and completely.

Pleasure ripped through her, travelling instantly up and down the length of her upright body, transforming it into a channel of ecstasy.

Release.

Her thrashing limbs struggled in vain against their bonds and she knew tears were coursing down her cheeks. But they were not tears of frustration; they were tears of liberation, of utter freedom.

It took a while for her breathing to steady and her mind to settle. She opened her eyes. Lucius was looking at her in rapt wonder. But when she met his gaze, his expression turned more serious. He stepped into her and ran his hands up her arms, rubbing them, coaxing the blood to run through them again. It was only then that Hermione became aware of the discomfort she was experiencing. It surprised her that she did not care.

"I will give you more," he said, his voice caught between a tender whisper and a factual statement. He leaned in, brushing her hair away from her ear, so that his breath was caught against it. His voice was barely audible. "On one condition. You do not ask. You never ask. Do you understand? Do you want more?"

He pulled back to judge her response. She nodded, trying not to seem too desperate. Her clit was already ready for more, the forced immobility of her body seemed to concentrate all her physical awareness into her sex, which she could feel burning, crying out for his touch yet again, despite the mere moments which had elapsed since her orgasm.

Lucius leant in once again to her ear. She moaned in anticipation. As much as she longed for his touch, his honeyed voice poured into her ear was deliciously enticing. "You know what I want, don't you? What I always want? To make you come, to make you come onto my tongue, to taste your pleasure, my little Mudblood ... Your pleasure, wrought by me, " he exhaled with the wonder he was describing, "it has entirely consumed me, rendered me incapable without it."

Again, he moved to look into her eyes. She held his gaze, incapable of speaking. Even if she could, she would not have known what to say. He had removed all rational thought from her mind. At that moment, he knelt swiftly, and with a final awed breath out as he came against her womanhood, he plunged his mouth against her.

Hermione flexed hard against the ribbons that bound her. Her arms were almost numb now, but the dull throb that she sensed in them was mimicked entirely by the coiling lust twisting ever stronger within her core. Lucius' hands had pulled her folds apart, and his tongue was sweeping in long, slow lengths up her sodden channel, gathering in the wetness he found there with each pass.

The feelings drawn out by his mouth were heightened by his fingers, which stroked, circled and pulsed around and within her most delicious places.

Hermione had lost all sense of time and place. She existed solely to channel the sensations he was eliciting in her. All was forgotten save for him and her body's capitulation to him. Her head fell back and she groaned into her gag. The man beneath her glanced up, and through the haze of her delirium, she detected words, rising to her.

"Give of yourself ... give to me, only me ..."

She did so. Her pleasure poured out of her to him. Again, she jerked erratically against the ribbons which still held her tight.

Time passed. It seemed like minutes, but in reality was only a few seconds. Hermione eventually felt the tug on her arms relaxed and hands bringing them down slowly and gently to her sides. The same hands massaged up and down along them, as the blood flowed back painfully. Hermione winced. The tender rubbing continued. When she relaxed, she felt the attention move to her feet, where her bonds were undone in turn.

Still without looking, she fell back onto the bed, unknowingly opening her legs in preparation for what she knew must follow. It did not take long. Within a moment, she felt his strong, taut body pressed against her. He was positioned, but did not move into her.

"Look at me. I want you to look at me."

She had hardly realised her eyes were closed. She was almost surprised to find her senses still functioning. Lucius was mere inches above her, staring down with an intensity which made her gasp.

When their eyes met, he pushed fully within her, with a grunt of urgent satisfaction. He felt larger than she remembered and she groaned with the sudden fullness.

He held her gaze all the while, while moving powerfully within her. She did not, nor could not look away. His eyes were bluer than usual, the azure flame bleeding into the grey, something she recognised as a sign of his extreme arousal.

Her mind told her to avert her eyes, to deny both of them the connection they were experiencing, but she could not.

Lucius ploughed into her time and time again. He wanted to disappear inside her. If he could have buried himself in her forever, at that moment, he would have done. He could fall into her. He was falling into her eyes. He knew it. They were wide open, staring at him, into him.

She opened her mouth and said one word, almost in revelation.

"Lucius."

He came apart within her, his seed pulled from him in long bursts. He felt her muscles constricting around him as her own orgasm took her.

Let me live in her. Is there another way?

They lay afterwards in silence, as was often the way with them. But this time they both knew that something had changed.

The line they had crossed was as if a curtain had been pulled back, and what they already knew lay behind it, was at last revealed, confirmed to them.

Hermione lay beside him. Her feelings fluctuated wildly. One moment she was more contented and at peace than for an age, the next she was terrified.

After a while, she turned away from him, lying on her side.

"I cannot live with you." Her words were calm and factual. "And I cannot live without you."

Lucius did not speak. She did not expect him to. But then fingers came to grip her chin firmly, and pulled her head over. His lips descended and he kissed her so deeply, consuming all that she was, as if trying to disappear into her.

When at last he pulled away, taking a little of her with him, his face became detached once again.

"I have to go now." Lucius rose from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Hermione lay quite still, her mind oddly empty.

When he returned and was dressing, she rolled over to look at him. "Wednesdays are not enough."

"No." He did not look up from the buttons on his shirt. "You will stay the night soon."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"I do not know. You will find a way."

His words should have angered her. They did not. "Monday. Next Monday. I will stay on Monday night."

"No sooner?"

"I don't think I will be able to."

He paused.

"Very well."

She became aware of an aching on her wrist. She glanced at it. It was red and grazed where the material had dug into it. He noticed her rubbing it. "I told you there would be discomfort."

"I like it. It will remind me of you." She watched him as he finished dressing. "I won't stay long. I'll be gone within half an hour."

"Very well."

He turned to leave, crossing to the door. Then, stopping suddenly, he looked back at her. "Do you still sleep with him?"

His sudden words shocked her. "What?"

"You heard me ... do you still sleep with him?"

"What, do you mean ... intercourse?"

"Yes."

"I ... he is my husband. Yes."

Silence.

"But ..." she hesitated.

"But what?" His voice was still insistent.

"It has been harder recently. Even when you and I weren't together." Hermione drew her legs up into her and clasped them tight. "Why did you ask me that?"

"I want to know." His voice was cold.

"You don't let me ask you about your life. Why should I tell you about all that?" Resentment welled up in her suddenly.

"Does he bring you pleasure?"

Hermione grimaced. "Lucius! Stop it."

"Does he?" He was insistent.

"Not especially."

Why was she answering him? Her anger rose in her. "Do you still sleep with your wife?"

"No."

Hermione was not sure what to say. "Because of me?"

"No. She has a lover. She suspects I have a lover."

"Did you have lovers before?"

"Before what?"

"Before me, Lucius? Did you have lovers before me?"

"No."

An odd combination of pride and shame swelled through Hermione.

"I am married, Lucius. I have a family. You cannot forget that. This is ..."

"What? What is this?"

She looked at him, searching for the words. "I don't know."

His eyes moved to the ground, and he placed his hand on the door handle once again. His head moved to the open door. But then, with a movement which made her gasp with shock, he came swiftly and suddenly over to her again. Without stopping, he pulled her down the bed towards him, and opened her legs wide. Once again, he bent his head to her womanhood, desperately and urgently, and feasted on her, imbibing her as if he had been starved.

All Hermione's uncertainty at his words was banished. Once again, his mouth and tongue and lips were the focus of her universe – this man, so in need of her for his existence, and she, equally, unable to do without him.

With an incoherent sound of necessity, she arched into his mouth, reaching her hands down and holding him as hard against her as she could. He pulled back only to concentrate on pushing his fingers deep within her. She felt two propelled with urgency into her now sodden pussy, and one, maybe two more into her tight but welcoming anal passage. Their possession of each other was complete and unequivocal.

Apart from the unidentifiable sounds of need and pleasure, neither spoke a word. Her fingers remained tangled in his hair, and he lapped and sucked until pleasure rose out of her and into his mouth once again.

And then, when her body had slackened and fallen silent, he raised himself and left her. Hermione was vaguely aware of the house's silence after his Disapparition.

Please, please, please can I have a Lucius?

More in the not too distant future, especially if you let me know your thoughts ... mwa ha ha!

LL x