Disclosure Hp belongs to JKR. The storyline, new character development, new events, and new characters are my intellectual property. Glorioux
A/n if you like the story let me hear from you. Although is written it needs editing and if there is no interest I might cut it short-
Bumping and Grinding
For weeks now, here and in other similar establishments, Lucius had observed how this younger generation danced, either solo, or jumping around each other, dancing with whoever. For some their movements were mostly a parody of sex while changing partners. They did vulgar and lewd things to each other; or held on to each other, nearly having sex on the dance floor, grinding hips, touching sexes.
It was revolting. Nevertheless, his eyes would always stay riveted to the action on the dance floor. At least he had learned how to embrace his partner during the dance. He had taken dancing lessons when he was a lad and could feel the music inside of him, but the moves had radically changed since his lessons long ago.
The song performed by a singer with a twang, grabbed his senses intensifying the sickness taking a fast hold of his body and soul. It had to be a Mudblood song, but it matter none. The singer crooned and he felt her trembling sweet warm body inside his arms, hence, he firmly wrapped his arm around her.
The music was slow; as he tightened his arms, pushing her onto his body, he was aware that nothing had ever felt so right and so wrong at the same time. She was too short, and her hands just reached the top of his shoulders, he was four inches taller than Draco, and he dwarfed her; she had such a slight body, yet curvy and full of soft places. She was exquisite, a priceless object d'art.
He felt her body relax against his. Moreover, she had laid her head on his chest, and he hoped she couldn't hear the loud thumping of his heart or feel the hardness at his groin.
The lights dimmed and shone away from them, Lucius could feel her enlarged breasts and her belly, full of child, right against him. At such intense emotions, the bigoted and dark side of his brain shut down, and he decided to live for that moment.
He was, to her surprise, a very good dancer. He had a natural rhythm and moved gracefully and sensually to the music, so she easily followed his lead. He had a large feline's grace and was incredibly gorgeous. They made a strikingly beautiful couple, particularly now, when his face was softened by the chaotic emotions cursing through him.
He was so tentative as if all of this were new. It couldn't be, unless, no way, had Draco been right? No way, it was just not possible. He had called his father nearly innocent on matters of love. Furthermore, he told her how he had to instruct Lucius after his mother's passing; on how to protect himself against disease and other like matters. Draco had arranged services for someone to come to be with him, but that couldn't be right.
He had teased her, it had to be a joke, "My love, I am concerned about sending my father to a witch from the agency, and I would ask Astoria, the queen if she wouldn't take advantage of him. I told you she is a hungry viper. Would you meet him once a week? You can pretend, and I will watch, it would be a great turn on. I would be ever so grateful, for all he is, he has a sweet kind of innocence. Believe me, I cannot bear for him to go to someone paid. It isn't tawdry, trust me, it is because I trust you, I have seen how he watches you, he wants you."
Now, she wondered had he been really asking. That was a little bizarre; maybe that was why he had blushed when she had laughed and was a little crossed for days. Besides, more than once he had cried at the tawdriness of his father's encounters and had more than once tried for her to reconsider her stand.
It was the day when she had to hold Draco all night; the day after The incident. The hired sex witch had bitten his father's nipples, squeezed him roughly and had basically raped him after subduing him with ligatures when his guard was down. First she had whipped him with a riding crop till he was covered with welts and then had buggered him with an ivory phallus till he bled.
Draco had to tend to him when he had found Lucius nearly catatonic. He had called the healer and had Floo'd Hermione the same day with eyes reddened by tears. This happened a few days before Draco had been taken. Only days after the day at the Manor. At this, Hermione kissed him, "My love, don't cry, tell me what I can do; I'll be with him for you; I'm so sorry." As for the witch, she had disappeared and couldn't be found,
Hermione had wondered if that incident bore any relevance to Draco's disappearance. She was now sure they needed to find her.
Moreover, Draco would often comment how he wished that he could prevent the 'damage' and sorrow the encounters brought to his father. Draco fought against the injustices; but she hadn't understood him well enough. Draco had seen his father as strangely innocent in the ways of the body and the world, and had been compelled to protect him.
The lyrics were repeating themselves while he led her, ever so slightly, tightening his hold on her as he breathed her maddening floral, fresh scent. He wasn't sure of what he really wanted, never having experienced it before except the day his sickness began. The incident had not diminished his hunger for her.
Hermione was living a fantasy of her own. She was dancing with her Draco, her lover. In her story, he breathed hard, moaned in her ear, and pressed his hips against hers, just as it had happened the first time. Not a word had been exchanged. As it was to be their pattern, every touch, every dance step, was all foreplay leading to a fast coupling against a wall, on a stairway, wherever, because they couldn't keep their hands away from each other. Their passion just couldn't be contained.
They'd worked in adjoining offices but never exchanged more than a polite greeting. She had been invited to his wedding, and she had declined. Two weeks later, "Lovely vase, you didn't miss anything," Draco had told her when he had to stop by her office.
That first time, one year after his wedding, he had joined their group. Harry was there and winked at Hermione. Draco, wearing casual-business Muggle clothes, sat across her and just stared. Later, she sat after dancing when he stood up, "Dance?" Those were his only words. He held her hand tight and brought it to his mouth, licked her wrist, and pulled her into the dance space. He stood behind and latched on below her waist to grind his aroused body against moved to the front, doing much of the same, but he never spoke, not a word; he just looked at her.
After their first dance of wild foreplay, he'd followed her to the loo and not even undressed when he took her inside the tight cabin.
Draco hadn't asked, he was in the world only the two of them existed. He locked the door, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and had turned her around. He'd placed her hands against the stall walls, raised her skirt, moved her knickers aside, and unbuttoned his trousers. His fingers had traced her sex once before he'd pressed on.
His wide hard cock had slid inside her overheated, slick flesh. They had a furious and fast coupling, and he had bitten her neck and shoulders, hard enough to elicit a cry of pain. She, in turn, had sunken her nails on his tight bum came in seconds, and he held on to her, still hard, and started again, whispering, "My Hermione," over and over.
He followed her to her house, "You need to be more careful. Raise your wards and don't Floo alone." He kissed her brow and left. That was the start.
Their brand of dancing was always subtle and sensual, a bite in the neck, hands on bare skin, slow kisses, and then a suffocating wave of desire surrounding them, wanting to be appeased, and waiting just wasn't in their language.
Their love had often been so, a wildfire, right here in this place; yes, as a matter of fact, the D.J. had caught them more than once and had blatantly sat there to watch while smoking weed until they were done. And once, she remembered, he had jerked off and came while watching them. Draco had been peeved but hadn't uttered a world. Yes, the D.J., the odd yank wizard, had known their secret.
Lucius
Lucius was in a world of his own; his sex demanded to be impaled inside her flesh and without thinking, his hips pressed forward seeking her warmth. At the feel of his hardness, she surprised him by pressing her body to his as close as able, and then by grinding her hips against his.
Every time that she slightly moved her hips against his arousal, he groaned and allowed her to hear his shuddered breathing. Lucius couldn't control the soft sounds in his throat. The sounds set her on fire, so she fully embraced her fantasy. She could feel his hands kneading her body, no longer just holding.
Again, thoughtlessly of the surroundings, but aware nobody was able to see them, his head bent seeking her raised her face up to him and Lucius Malfoy readied to kiss for the first time.
At his age, forty-nine years old, he was about to experience a real kiss and not the superficial pecks he had thus far dispensed, but instead, he was about to give her a kiss like the ones he had witnessed not long ago. Come to think of it, it must have been THE NIGHT the babe have been made.
The Malfoy babies were always made on the property; they were made possible by the place's magic. That was when the insidious worm responsible for the disease took residence inside his body and mind. The memory of that night flashed in seconds in front of his eyes, in very fast progression, and he was inside his mind.
He could relieve the entire memory in seconds, just as he had done right on the dance floor. He had memorized and relived THE NIGHT many times daily since he had caught the illness plaguing him, making his blood boil even faster.
Finally, he understood Draco's kisses. He did the first moment that his lips skimmed over hers; at first, it was done with delicacy; her lips were yielding, and her fingers wrapped around his neck as he pulled her up to him.
He enjoyed her plump softness, the taste of sweet cherries; lips that responded to him with more of the felt a small wet tip licking his lower lip, and his cock pulsed fiercely, dripping and begging to pierce her flesh.
The soft kiss turned demanding while the singer sang the love song. Her tongue demanded access into his mouth. For a second he was hesitant, confused, why? But being an adept student, he followed her lead while his hand lowered to her buttocks to press her closer to him, wanting more friction, and his knee instinctively nudged her legs apart. Her tongue inside of his mouth was tearing him apart, this wasn't kissing, this was making love with their tongues, a groan rumbled inside his chest cavity. Her tongue caressed his and her lips pressed, teased, her teeth nipped, it was a unique brand of sensuality.
He now danced with his thigh pressed on to hers, he could feel the heat coming out her sex as their mouths made love. His hips moved shamelessly thus his hardness pushed relentlessly against her soft body, making him want release. He was seconds away from entering her, already trying to figure out if that were possible.
She tasted of sin, of taboo pleasures, of raw need and kept promises, never unclean, never of mud. Most of all she tasted of a Malfoy witch, the carrier of the future, and he yelped softly, as a wounded animal would. He had heard these same sounds before, from Draco. He desperately needed his flesh inside her flesh, wanting to learn the pleasures he had seen; he couldn't wait, and it was no longer an option.
A terrible thought crossed his mind, the thought of losing her, and he was aware that he could never let her go; only if Draco came back, at least he hoped that he could; no, he might share, perhaps.
He felt better now that he had made a decision; and he felt a little compassion for the witch who didn't know that she was no longer free. Not for long, he wasn't a generous wizard, thus the little empathy experienced on her behalf was fleeting, he felt sorrier for himself. After all, only Hermione could give him what he needed, what he must have secretly wanted. She had just become another war casualty and his gain.
His hand had gathered her robe and pulled it up while his mouth was nearly in throws of orgasmic pleasure. Her hand tenderly caressed his face, and her cheeks were disconcertingly wet with tears; however his senses were too engaged with her body, were busy with the soft bum he was touching under her robe. He had no time for her sorrowful tears; he wanted her cries, the ones she had screamed for Draco.
His body bent a little more and soon his hand slid inside her knickers to cup her wet, hot sex, which he let go as if it burned but not for long, once he brought his hand to his nose, a current of need ran through him, and his entire body trembled wanting more. How would it be to run his tongue and taste her? No wonder Draco wanted more.
The song was coming to an end, and he couldn't and wouldn't stop. He made another decision, a very impulsive one, a very Lucius unlike; and with a wandless gesture he Apparated them into his room at the Manor, bringing the music with him, not wanting her to change the magic of the moment. He knew his guards would understand what he had done; he left a sign for them, which was automatic. And just like that he abducted the witch.
A/N now you know about Draco and Hermione.