Right - managed to get this to you by the end of the English day! I could have agonised over it for days, but saw no point - it is actually how I want it.
OK, tricky one this. I know some people will possibly have some issues with Ron here. Hopefully he is not too OOC, but equally I cannot make him too sympathetic as Hermione needs to be very clear about who she wants. The scene we start with is deliberately ambiguous - Lucius may be utterly devoted to Hermione, but he's still Lucius Malfoy! Nothing's straightforward. Still, I hope I've maintained the integrity of the character as I've developed him.
Then - warning!!! The smut scene which follows is intense to say the least. Please, please, please do not see it as more gratuitous smut (I hope none of my smut is entirely gratuitous, although I acknowledge that is debatable!), but this chapter in particular is highly important, and the scene reveals everything about the nature of their relationship basically. It is brutal, but necessary. I hope sincerely that is understood. !NB! Three days after writing what is above, I have amended this chapter slightly. I need people to think of 'transferring' rather than 'inflicting' - hope that makes sense!
Thanks as ever for reviews - I really do adore you all, and am not so fearful of this chapter knowing I have some great readers who understand where I am coming from! x
Fifty - Burn
Hermione moved away from Lucius, but did not stand up. She looked briefly at Ron, seeing immediately that he had had far too much to drink. She turned away.
"Ron, you're drunk."
He stood looking down at her, certainly far from sober, but still able to converse with understanding.
"Perhaps ... but ... you," he pointed a finger of a hand still holding a wine glass at her, "are no longer in a position to comment."
Ron walked slowly and slightly swervingly towards them. Still she did not move, and neither did Lucius, who had his head lowered, but was looking up at Ron through hooded lids.
"You look nice, 'Mione," Ron's voice was full of mock joviality. "I remember that dress. Wore it to the opera, didn't you? Good night that, wasn't it? Seem to remember you behaving a little strangely though." He had come within a few feet of them, and his head suddenly turned towards Lucius.
"Lucius! Me ol' mate! Didn't see you down there! Been a long time, Lucius. I haven't seen you properly since ... oohhhh ... since I was brutally imprisoned in your house. Happy times ... happy times!" his words came, slurred out, his mouth fixed in a sickening grin.
Hermione closed her eyes, despairing at the sarcastic drunken drawling of her ex-boyfriend. At last she stood up, and spoke firmly.
"Ron. Don't do this now. You've had far too much to drink. I'm sorry we had to meet like this, but we can't keep avoiding each other forever. There will be other times when our paths will cross. Please try to accept my life as it is now and move on, for your sake alone."
Ron turned to her, his eyes glazing as he met hers. "Don't interrupt me, 'Mione, I was just having a chat with Lucius here. We've got a lot to catch up on, haven't we, mate?"
Lucius did not dignify his embarrassing ramblings with a response. Ron took another step towards him.
"Wassa matter, Lucius? Cat got your tongue? Unusual for you that. Must be 'Mione's influence. Can't get a bloody word in edgeways when she's around."
"Ron, please ..."
He turned to Hermione more aggressively.
"I said, don't interrupt me ... Hermione."
His tone of voice had suddenly turned cold and spiteful and just as suddenly Lucius stood up and stepped into him. "I suggest, Mr Weasley, that you return to the house and find someone who will be able to accompany you home. You are clearly not in a position to be responsible for yourself."
Ron faced Lucius, a sudden look of such venomous hatred on his face that Hermione felt dizzy.
"Don't you fucking presume to tell me what to do, Malfoy. I'm still fully aware of what's going on here, who you are, and where we are ... a long way from the house. You're not the only powerful wizard round here, you know."
Lucius remained completely calm. "I would advise against threatening me, Mr Weasley."
The fire in Ron's eyes flashed. "Or what? One false move from you, even a little tiny one, and they'll throw you into Azkaban for the rest of your living days, and then some." He stepped closer to him. "Go on, Malfoy ... what you gonna do?"
A terrible silence descended. The two wizards stood a mere foot apart, their bodies tensed, rigid, both ready to strike with a moment's notice, but neither had yet reached for their wands.
Hermione had been frozen, transfixed with horror at the scene developing before her. Still, she realised that they were in a very dangerous position. If anything were to happen, they were sufficiently far from the house and shielded by trees and bushes for it to go unnoticed and unstopped. At last, she snapped herself out, and hurried up to them.
"Lucius! Come on, please, let's go now."
Lucius did not move, and she could hear his breathing deep and fast; his body remained tensed.
Hearing her use Lucius' first name was unbearable for Ron, who turned to Hermione, a mixture of grief and anger on his face. He looked at her for an age, his face changing into an expression of utter despair. "Hermione," his voice was heavy with anguished regret. Then he lifted his hand, as if reaching out to her. Her close proximity meant that his hand inadvertently brushed her arm.
Strong, pliant fingers suddenly closed around his wrist, gripping it so painfully his face twisted in agony. Lucius strengthened his hold and stepped even closer in to Ron, bending his arm brutally away from Hermione. He hissed, his voice low and cold, "Don't – touch – her."
"Lucius - let go of him," Hermione ordered calmly but forcefully.
Lucius ignored her.
Ron breathed heavily, still in pain, but hiding it as best he could. The agony seemed to be sobering him up. "That's right, Malfoy ... go on ... You see, 'Mione? Not so easy for a leopard to change its spots after all." He spoke mockingly.
At last, with a final painful twist, Lucius let go of his arm and started to walk away.
After a look of remorse at Ron, Hermione followed him. Ron stood rubbing his arm, then turned and spoke derisively after them. "That's the way, Malfoy ... running away from a fight ... it's becoming a habit."
Lucius stopped walking. He stared straight ahead, his body so tense, Hermione could feel the heat emanating from it. She was fearful, her heart racing, but the anger rising inexorably in Lucius transmitted itself somewhat to her, and she felt a surge of some strange force deep inside. She tried to ignore it. "Lucius, come with me. Walk away," she urged him softly. He hardly heard her.
Lucius turned swiftly and faced Ron. He spoke, his voice low and measured, but full of such latent malice it could have frozen the air between them. "What was that?"
"Running away, Malfoy, just at the critical moment. I remember so very well, you see. The final battle. You ... when push came to shove ... too gutless to stand up for yourself. You gave up, Malfoy ... you fucking gave up!" He laughed spitefully.
Hermione's breathing deepened, but she was powerless to stop what was developing. A curious excitement was flowing through her. Not only did she feel unable to prevent it, she was not sure she wanted to.
She glanced up at Lucius. His face was fixed, the mask in place. He gave little emotion away, but Hermione saw in his eyes such anger, hatred and pain. She placed her hand on his arm. His muscles were rigid. She only ever felt them like that at the moments of their most intense sexual pleasure. She flexed her fingers on him slightly and drew in a deep breath.
It did nothing to prevent what was to come. Lucius started to walk slowly towards Ron, his pace so measured as to appear nonchalant. Again, his voice came, further chilling the air around them.
"I was looking – for my son."
"Your son?!" Ron snorted with derision, then turned away and half-mumbled, "Hardly worth it."
Lucius' wand was out almost before he'd finished his sentence, his nostrils flaring, eyes flashing. His arm was raised before him, ready.
The blood raced around Hermione's body, but she made no attempt to stop him.
Ron withdrew his wand slowly, a faint goading smile on his face. "Yeah ... that's better, Malfoy ... making up for it now then. Come on ... let's see what you've got ... I can't wait."
"I think you may regret that, Weasley." Lucius kept walking slowly towards Ron. "Move back, Hermione."
Hermione knew she should do something, try to stop them, but she was filled with such a thrilling longing to see what would happen that she found herself simply obeying him, and stepping away from the two men before her.
"Oh no," Ron continued. "I've been waiting for this for a long time. Furnunculus!"
A bolt of orange light shot from Ron's wand. Lucius flicked his wand briefly and instantly, almost drawling, "Protego." A faint blue wall of light appeared, dissolving the curse as it came towards him.
"Sectumsempra!" Ron tried again.
With another wave of his wand, Lucius instantly dissolved the shaft of light. He kept walking slowly but deliberately towards Ron. "My my ... we are making up for lost time aren't we? But you'll have to do better than that, Weasley."
"Locomotor mortis!" His spell fizzled out before it got within a foot of Lucius.
Ron's spells became increasingly desperate and defensive as Lucius approached him.
"Petrificus totalus! ... Levicorpus! ... Incarcerous!"
Lucius was not even bothering to raise his wand now. The blue light of the shield charm seemed to emanate from his body itself. Hermione looked on in wonder, a thrill coursing through her veins at the powerful sight of her lover bearing down on her ex-boyfriend. A far corner of her mind tried momentarily to tell her to rush over, stop him, pull him away, but she hardly noticed it.
Still Lucius walked closer and closer to Ron, whose face had taken on a look of panic. He tried one last time, desperately screaming the curse out.
"Inflamarae saeculorum!"
A flame of fire shot out from his wand, propelling itself towards Lucius with seemingly unstoppable force. In that instant Hermione was sure it would hit him. She cried out, but saw his left hand raised. The fire hit his palm and was prevented from going any further. Lucius stood, his hand held out before him, a look of utterly fierce determination on his face, his palm absorbing the flames shooting towards him. His features flickered. Hermione could tell it was agonising and exhausting, but her admiration for him burned ever stronger.
Ron was equally desperate at the other end of his wand, where the flames kept pouring out. The effort of it was at last too much and he collapsed onto the ground, panting with exhaustion. The flames at last stopped and Lucius lowered his hand. He exhaled deeply and let his head drop briefly, his face twinging.
He started the walk towards Ron yet again. Ron quickly stood up, hardly bothering to raise his wand now, but fixing his face and looking Lucius straight in the eye.
When he was a mere foot away from Ron, Lucius spoke, his voice retaining its laconic drawl. "You seem to have forgotten who I am, Mr Weasley. That was a particularly desperate little display, wasn't it? But may I suggest we bring it to an end now. Little boys who play with fire get their fingers burnt."
"Go to hell, Malfoy!"
Lucius smirked. "If that's the worse you can do, I have nothing to fear."
Hermione was rooted to the spot, transfixed by what she was seeing. She was too far from them now to hear what they were saying.
"You've got her fooled haven't you!? Nice cosy set-up, Malfoy? Bad blood will always out though. She doesn't know what she's let herself in for. So much for being intelligent! She makes me sick! You're welcome to her," Ron sneered.
Lucius' eyes narrowed momentarily. Ron looked to the older wizard's wand hand, thinking he may reach for it again, but Lucius remained still. Then inhaling deeply and drawing himself up, he turned away. Ron could not resist one final try.
"Just remember, Malfoy. When you're inside her, screwing her ... I was there first."
Lucius froze. A cold tension descended over his features and he slowly turned back to Ron, stepping in yet again, so that he was merely inches away.
He spoke softly and slowly, but his voice dripped with icy malice and hatred. "Ahh, but you see, Mr Weasley ... I have fucked her so hard, so long, and so full, that when she comes, screaming my name over and over and over again, branded by pleasure to me ... all memory of your pathetic, limp prick is banished forever." He looked at Ron, completely defeated before him. He raised his eyebrows to emphasise the point and allowed his mouth a slight satisfied smirk.
Then turning smoothly he once again started to walk away.
"You deserve each other. Take the stupid arrogant slut!"
Lucius Malfoy spun elegantly, his right fist clenched tightly, and he brought it swiftly up, making brutal contact with Ron's chin, then catching his nose.
Ron staggered slightly backwards, his eyes closed in giddiness, blood immediately issuing from his mouth and nose, then he fell to the ground with an ungainly thud.
Lucius stood over his pathetic form for a moment, then breathed in, adjusted his robes around him, turned and walked smoothly back to Hermione.
"Come." He walked ahead of her, pausing briefly for her to follow him.
Hermione glanced back at Ron, slowly picking himself up off the ground. He raised his head and looked at her, such animosity in his face she felt nausea wash over her. She turned to Lucius, his back to her, still, waiting. Again her head moved to Ron. Their eyes met again momentarily, and her soul heaved.
Then Hermione Granger turned and followed Lucius Malfoy out of the garden and away.
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After a brief word of thanks to Shacklebolt, which neither would later have any recollection of, Hermione and Lucius left the residence and walked out into the dark, deserted streets around Diagon Alley.
They walked swiftly and silently. Hermione could not fully process what had just happened and her reaction to it, but despite her mind telling her how wrong it all was, inside, she was feeling something altogether different.
The wizard beside her walked purposefully, his body still tensed and rigid from the experience, his aura diffusing into Hermione. Her skin was alight, the ball of tension deep inside was there; it could not be denied. It was that same feeling she had felt from the earliest days of their relationship; in Flourish and Blotts, at the opera, burning, burning. Now, it was how she had felt after the incident in the park, only much stronger, unquenchable, undeniable, desperate.
She grabbed his hand, her breath heaving, and pulled him into a side street, dark, damp, deserted.
"Lucius ... now ... you must ... now."
He looked down at her, the cold fire still burning in his eyes. This time he did not hesitate.
He hissed his words at her. "Turn around."
She did so immediately.
"Down. Hands and knees. Now."
Hermione knelt, her knees hitting the rough cobblestones hard, her hand slipping in a muddy puddle.
She was already panting in frantic need. The tension in her belly was causing her physical discomfort, so desperate was she for his touch, his fullness. "Hurry ... god ... hurry."
He said nothing, but she could hear him swiftly undoing his trousers. His hands ran briefly over her body, so tightly encased in red silk, then he gripped the hem and flung it over her backside. She heard a slight groan as she was revealed to him, then felt his hands tearing at her underwear. He held her hips hard, his fingers digging into her flesh brutally. He paused. Hermione thought she must be on fire, such was the sensation of longing coursing over and through her.
She cried, tears coming involuntarily to her eyes. "Please, please ... I beg you ... now, Lucius, now!"
With a guttural grunt of possession, he thrust, deep and forcefully. She was immediately jolted up the pavement, her knees grazing on the cobbles. She cried out. At last. It was as if they had never had intercourse before. She felt him inside her as if it was their first time, new, vital, unfamiliar.
"Yes! More, move ... move ..."
Pulling back, he gripped her hips even more, then plunged in again to the hilt, once more making her hands and knees scrape against the stone ground. She did not notice. All she felt was him, deep, urgent, completing her.
He started to thrust regularly, building up a grinding rhythm which she responded to with an unending moan of deepest satisfaction. Apart from the occasional grunt of effort and his heavy breathing, Lucius was silent.
She clenched around him, feeling her muscles begin their gradual shift towards ultimate release. But then he stopped, as suddenly as he had initially plunged into her, and pulled out. He spoke.
"Can't stop ... can't stop ... I need to ... I need it."
She knew what he meant, what she too needed. "Yes, yes, my darling. Do it ... do it now ... now!"
Coated only in her own juices, he positioned himself quickly before her anus and thrust hard, the deepest groan torn from him. Hermione let out an agonised cry as pain ripped through her. There was no other lubrication and she thought she may pass out from the feel of him tearing into her, but still she focused on his iron cock and her need for it. She was in agony, but registered it only as sensation, sensation drawn out of her by this man who was her life, her existence. "Again ... again."
Inhaling deeply, he thrust harder yet, plunging further into her tightest passage. Another cry sounded from her. He quickly followed it up with another hard movement into her, finally filling her completely. She groaned at the feeling of him fully within her, burning her.
He bent down over her, his voice at her ear, his words poured like oil into her, dangerously soft, "Do you feel me? Do you feel that?" He moved desperately within. "Do you feel that pain? Do you?" Another insistent thrust.
She gasped in ecstatic agony. "Yes! Yes, I feel you ... I feel it."
"Do you know what it is?" He plunged in again. "It is my pain ... It is my despair ... Feel it. Feel it ... Take it." His words, spoken with a velvet intensity, were like silk, encasing the stinging pain he was transferring to her physically.
She was weeping, not with the agony which burnt inside her so unremittingly, but with the revelation of who she was, who he was, why they were together. She knew it, she had always known it, but now, it scorched itself onto her, into her.
"Yes, Lucius, yes. Let me take your pain ... let me take your anguish ... Give me all you are, all you have been ... I will take it. I will absorb it ... I will absorb it all."
He let his head fall back and cried out into the dark night, his voice echoing around the buildings on either side. It was an outlandish noise, unlike anything Hermione had ever heard before.
Her body was alive with sensation, the pain radiating out from her core to her fingers and toes, but still she craved him within her, urged him to move. He started again, slowly but powerfully, deep inside her. He picked up the pace. She knew she was welded to him, fused through the burning, searing agony. Her mind no longer recognised the pain for what it was, and she merely felt ... felt him ... felt alive.
He continued to thrust hard, over and over. Then at last, he swelled within her and with a final agonising drive along her flaming walls, he came desperately and frantically, shooting up into her over and over. He cried out, his words her orgasm.
"Hermione! My life ... my salvation!"
Her world blinded on hearing it.
She stared straight ahead, gripping the cobbles under her. She felt his seed stinging badly; he had wounded her. She knew he needed to. She needed him to.
He collapsed on top of her, pressing her down into the cold, wet cobbles. They neither spoke nor moved for what seemed like hours. Hermione closed her eyes, feeling him slowly softening within her. Then his hand clasped around her and she felt the dizzy pull of apparition take her away.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
On arriving, she could not stand, her whole body stung badly, and she collapsed down onto the floor. She was lying on a rug of some sort, laid out on a marble floor. She heard water suddenly gushing. She forced her eyes to open one more time and finally ascertained that she was in her bathroom at Malfoy Manor. Her eyes closed again.
After a while, hands picked her carefully up. She managed to stand, supported by him, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair was matted and in disarray, her dress soiled with mud. Her hands hurt, and looking at them she saw angry red grazes on the palms. There was a cut on one. Her knees twinged and she hitched up her dress, wincing as she saw the blood trickling down them. She knew there would be blood from where he had entered her too; the stinging throb she felt there could not be denied.
Still supporting her, he took off her dress, so tenderly and carefully, with the softest touch of his fingers. The contrast to what she had just experienced with him could not have been greater. She noticed more bruises as her body was revealed, and she looked at them with a sense of curious wonder. He rolled down what was left of her stockings, taking off her shoes in the process. Then he bent down and picked her up in his arms, moving over, and placing her exquisitely gently in a warm, full bath.
The water immediately flowed over her ravaged body, soothing and caressing. She let out a sigh of utter abandonment. She looked down, little pink rivulets were snaking their way through the water from her wounds, mixing with murky clouds where the dirt was washing off. Lucius picked up a sponge, pouring a richly perfumed bath cream onto it. The scent of it immediately calmed and eased her aches; she supposed it must have some magical healing properties. Still, it did not take all the pain away. She did not want it to. She needed to feel it.
He took the sponge and slowly ran it, delicately, caressingly over her body, dabbing at her knees, running it over her hands then raising them to his lips to kiss and brush against them.
He spoke not a word. She closed her eyes and allowed him to continue his ministrations. The sponge, the aroma of the soap, his hands, all soothed, eased and stroked her agonised body, until she was lulled into an exhausted bliss.
She was only just aware of her body being lifted from the water, a warm towel drying her off, and then strong firm arms bearing her up, again, and placing her down. She turned into warm, soft, velvet, silk, downy, aromatic, sumptuous comfort. Just as her mind drifted into unconsciousness, she heard a voice in her ear whisper so low, so sublime, "Thank you."
What can I say?
Maybe you could say some things if you have a moment ... as ever, thank you. x
NB - All of the spells are to be found in the books or films. I just adapted one - "Inflamarae saeculorum".
