"Neutiquam officium liberi esse hominis puto Cum is nihil promereat, postulare id gratiae apponi sibi. - No free man will ask as favor, what he can not claim as reward." (Terence: Andria II, 1, 32)
He lazily traced his hand down her front. "So with the necessities out of the way, what would you like to do next?" She pretended to give it some thought. "My dear Lucius, at the moment, you remind me of a gooseberry in August, and I'm not sure I like it." she finally declared. He arched an eyebrow. "Come again? How am I a gooseberry?" She winced at her rather flat attempt at a joke – anything was better right now than the waterworks – then solved the riddle for him. "Well, you're over-ripe and rather prickly." The blond wizard's eyes widened in surprise and his hand scraped over the stubble at his chin. Then he pursed his lips. She thought she detected a trace of the curse of all blondes, a slight rise of color in his cheeks. He actually seemed a little embarrassed.
She smiled at him to take the sting out of her assessment and he eventually played along, offering her his arm in mock formality. "If you can still bring yourself to accompany me," he declared. "My facilities are at your service." She curtseyed with an evil grin and laid her hand in the crook of his uninjured arm as he stepped over their discarded clothes and walked her through his bedroom and into the cool marble-clad luxury of his bathroom. He looked around, called his wand to him and lit several candles and torches. Then he turned to her. "Would a bath be acceptable?" he asked politely. "Perfectly," she smiled. He flicked his wand in the direction of the large sunken tub and intoned: "Diffundo aqua!" A shimmer of light filled the dark marble depths for a moment and then she saw flames reflected in still water.
Lucius took her hand, but as he was leading her towards the bath, she paused. "Your arm," she said. "Please let me." He faced her and held still as she loosened the knot that held the bandage in place and gently started to unwrap the soiled and bloodied cloth. He did not flinch as she pulled off the last scraps that had fused with the deep, ugly gash that Lepidus bleeding knife had made. For a moment she looked at the crimson stain on his pale skin, clenching her teeth in anger, then she steeled herself for what she had planned to do. One of her elective classes at Durmstrang had been empathic healing, an art, that only few witches and wizards mastered. While the skill was prized, it was attained at some personal expense. She gently ran her fingers down his skin, avoiding to touch the wound, then looked at him.
"Trust me," she said softly. He realized that it was not a question. A moment later she held her hand over his arm and he saw her lips move noiselessly. Her lids lowered over her green eyes and he noticed to his horror that the skin at her arm began to redden, then open and peel back until she sported a wound identical to his. A thin trail of blood ran down her forearm and her face had turned white. "Eleanor, no…" he protested, but she gave a sharp hiss and blindly grasped his hand that tried to restrain her. He was distracted from further action by the fact that the insistent burning and throbbing that hat been with him for over four days now, ever since Lepidus had first opened the vein in his arm, subsided. He could actually see how the wound began to close until nothing was left but a small, white, star-shaped scar.
Eleanor had begun to sway slightly, and he stretched out his hands to steady her. She still had her eyes shut tight, and her lips began to move again. He noticed that the same changes that she effected in him now took place with her and her cut also closed up. Finally she seemed to snap out of her trance and looked at him, her arm now scarred similar to his. She exhaled slowly: "Oh, I'm glad it worked," she sighed. "I hadn't attempted it for quite a while." "How did you do that?" he asked. "Empathicura," she explained. "We had Chiron Maas, the famous healer, teach it the last year I was in school. My best friend and I both had a terrible crush on him. So we took it for elective studies. Pretty stupid of us. We learned by curing all the quiddich injuries that came into the school hospital: broken bones, concussions, bludger bruises. Looking back I have to say we were crazy."
He rubbed his hand over his skin, then touched her scar. "I have heard of it, but never seen it performed," he said. Then realizing that she had elected to share his pain for a while in order to help him, he added: "Thank you." She smiled and turned to the tub, dipping a foot in the water. "One good turn deserves another," she said lightly. "You gave me the ash water potion." The next minute she had submerged herself in the warm liquid of the bath. He saw the outline of her creamy skin in the water contrasted to the fiery hues of her hair that fanned out behind her. For a moment he watched her as she closed her eyes and relaxed, then he joined her.
They spent a few minutes simply enjoying the soothing caresses of the warm water, floating around and touching each other lazily. She found herself humming tunelessly, until Lucius shot her an inquisitive glace out of grey eyes. She blushed, putting her legs beneath her and standing in a crouch, so that only her head and slicked back hair appeared above the water. "So, what's going to happen next," she asked. "You will become chief Death Eater?" He executed a slow half-turn and faced her. His face showed alertness now. "I would assume, so," he answered with forced casualness.
She stared at him. "Assume, so? You could claim that position or refuse it. It would be your choice, would it not?" He focused on her now, eyes boring into hers to gauge her reaction. "And my choice would determine the nature of our relationship? Is that what you are implying?" As usual, his quick Slytherin mind had no problem paring things down to the essentials of his own options. She slowly shook her head, faintly surprised at her own answer. "No it would not," she said. "As we discussed at my house, as long as we can respect each other's choices and can keep our goals separated, I do not see why we should not enjoy each other's company. I will not serve Voldemort, but neither will I interfere in your decisions, as long as they do not endanger myself, my friends or my property. After all, it's not like we are married or anything."
He shook himself with a wry laugh at that suggestion, droplets of water launching from his blonde hair. "You know, you'd be surprised how many wizards and witches with much greater differences are ending up married." She gave him a stern look. "Are you proposing, Mr. Malfoy?" She had aimed to be sarcastic, but stopped herself at the brief shadow that seemed to cross his face. "No," he said soberly. "The ancient houses eschew divorce, as you must know yourself. I will never be free of the commitments that were made on my behalf, even if I wish to be. And if you think of continuing the Sartorius name, you will eventually need to enter into your own commitments. I would only hope that you will chose an honorable wizard of an old house with a pure bloodline who will treat you with the respect you deserve."
She had rarely seen him speak with such seriousness, and she was quite taken aback by his answer. "The Sartorius name…" she mused. "I hadn't even thought about it. Marriage, kids, hell, I'm just now holding down my first wizarding job." He compressed his lips. "You have responsibilities to your family and your house," he said simply, and she felt generations of pureblood wizards backing his words. "I just hope that your own judgment will allow you to make a better choice in a husband than was made for me for a wife. At least you'll have no-one interfering in your decision."
Time for some honesty on her part. "You might," she said frankly, moving her hands, indicating him and her and the space they occupied. "This might." He lowered his head, acknowledging the truth in her answer for himself. "I am honored," he replied. "Don't let it, though. You are not a muggle or a mudblood, free to follow every undisciplined whim. Never forget who you are. – Though," he added with a crooked smile and a tone of mock menace in his voice. "You may want to hold off introducing any betrothed of yours and leaving me along with him for any extended period of time."
She shook her head, smiling back. "I'm not about to get handfasted to anyone just yet. I am just glad to be alive. My biggest problem will be what to do about Dumbledore and my teaching at Hogwarts, knowing what I know. I'll be sitting on the information that a member of the council of governors is also the chief Death Eater. I will need to look for another job. It's more than dishonorable to accept payment from people I'm lying to."
The blond wizard facing her paused, realizing why she had really asked him about his plans. She had needed to know for her own choices, and the question hadn't really been about him at all. As so often before, she had again managed to surprise him. "Well, at least find something else to do besides teaching about muggles, for Hecate's sake," he finally suggested. "It's a despicable occupation! Do you even have to work? Your means should be sufficient to…"
She cut off his words, deciding to ignore his disdainful remarks about muggles. Lucius would never consent to respect anyone else but a pureblood, no matter how much the attitude annoyed her. "Lucius I'd go mental, just sitting around somewhere doing nothing, living off the proceeds of my heritage. I know a lot of wizards do, but look at your own wife and her mock occupation of organizing society events. I'd rather swallow my own wand."
He conceded her point with a small smile. "I wouldn't mind keeping you occupied to a certain extent," he then suggested with a leer. She grinned at him. "Better consider what you are asking for," she warned him. "It seems I like demanding jobs."
He really didn't need more of an invitation to move into her space and pull her to him, but at his first attempt at a kiss, she finally put up her arms in mock defense. "No more, I'll beg for mercy, if I need to," she complained. "What now?" he protested. She disentangled herself. "Right, sit still and let me do this."
He released her with an exasperated look, while she turned, looking up at some shelves next to the sink. She stretched out her hand. "Accio tray!" she commanded and seconds later held a beautifully carved black lacquer tray in her hands that contained an elegant mother-of-pearl switchblade razor, a china soap dish and a badger-hair brush. Her lover raised an eyebrow, but had no time to comment as she next summoned a face-cloth, which she dipped in the water and heated with a spell as hot as she could stand to hold it.
"Face me," she instructed him, "and close your eyes." He realized what she was planning to do and she saw his grey eyes flicker nervously. "You really know how to handle yourself with one of these?" His glance indicated the switchblade razor. She shot him an evil grin. "You know I can do empathicura," she reassured him. "So if anything should go wrong…" She trailed off suggestively.
He made a show of backing up to the stairs and settling in. "Very reassuring, my dear," he growled. But after a last glance at her, he actually slowly closed his eyes. She first placed the hot cloth over his face, hearing his surprised intake of breath as he felt the heat of it. She gently smoothed it over his cheeks and chin for a little while, then removed it and placed it aside.
As she worked up a lather in the soap dish she noticed he was watching again. She smiled to herself, deciding to relax her orders. "Curious?" she asked as she covered his skin. "Nervous," he confessed, then quickly closed his mouth as her brush moved in. She surveyed her handiwork so far, slowly picked up the razor and pulled the handle and blade apart. She had used to do this for her last boyfriend on occasion, who had regarded it as a treat, so she was confident, that Lucius would be none the worse for her performance.
Gently she worked the razor around the contours of his face, moving him with light taps of her fingers for best access. She eventually felt the tension drain out of him, although he watched her intently as she slowly removed the lather stroke by stroke and wiped the sharp blade clean on the cloth. Finally she was done and surveyed her handiwork – she had not drawn any blood, and as she ran her hand along his cheek and down the side of his jaw and throat, his skin felt perfectly smooth.
She gave the razor another swipe along the cloth and carefully folded it back up. "All done," she announced cheerfully. Lucius gave her one last glance, then cupped some water in his hands and cleaned off the remaining soap. She vanished the dirty cloth, then arranged the shaving utensils back on the tray and used a banishing spell to send it back to its place on the shelf.
As she was still intent on guiding its flight, she felt him come up on her from behind and pull her into his embrace. His face bent to her ear as he murmured. "I think I have a house-elf, that desperately needs to be made a present of some of Draco's old clothes. My barbering so far has been abysmal in comparison. Where did you learn this?" She slipped around in his arms. "I practiced on muggles…" She wriggled her eyebrows and trailed off suggestively. "By the way, you may kiss me, if you wish."
His grey eyes flickered and his lips curved in an amused sneer. "Oh, I may, may I?" With that, his hands cupped her face as he moved in to finally claim her mouth and she found as before, that the ministrations of his lips and tongue diffused any attempt at coherent thought. She doubted she could ever tire of this. As she relaxed into his caresses and moved against him lazily in the water, she felt his grip on her tighten and he slowly began to pull them under.
She quickly gasped for breath, and then the water closed above them. He never relinquished her lips. Gods, she had never attempted to kiss anyone under water, and the feeling was quite extraordinary. Her eyes were closed now, everything came down to warm skin and warm water. She moaned and felt air bubbles rise. They both stayed down as long as they could, of course making this into a competition just like about anything else, and finally surfaced spluttering, pushing each other's hair out of their faces. She was panting, catching her breath. "Lost for words?" he smiled.
"But Lucius, do you really need me to tell you, that you are breath-taking?" she teased back. "Ah, but certainly, my dear, you do not know the true fragility of my ego," he purred. She needed to stifle a laugh at that. He was the most supremely self-confident and arrogant man she had ever met.
A new thought struck her and quickly she surveyed the amount of space she had, then jack-knifed and pushed herself under water again, diving head down this time until she touched his legs. She felt him shuffle his feet to move backwards in surprise, but she hung on and brought her head in to nip at the skin of his thighs as she made her way back up. Even with her eyes closed she had no problems locating the velvety shape of his semi-erect cock floating above her. She held herself in position by grasping his hips and slipped him into her mouth, hearing the rumble of his groan under water as he felt her purpose. Again she stayed down, caressing him with her lips and tongue until she thought her lungs would burst, then surfaced.
When she had dashed the water from her eyes she was delighted to see his features relaxed into a slack mask of pleasure. But Lucius was not content to stay passive for long and in a little while they had a veritable naval battle on their hands, as they chased each other, dived to launch daring attacks, rolled over and under each other and resorted to pinching and tickling to break free. Lucius finally asserted his strength and managed to pin her half way up the steps of the sunken tub.
"Do you yield?" he demanded with mock ferocity, his weight crushing her. She struggled still. "I promise, I treat my prisoners with the utmost consideration," he asserted, very unconvincingly for a Death Eater. He moved a hand in to take advantage of a ticklish spot he had just now discovered under her short ribs and she exploded in helpless laughter, her grip on him weakening. "I'd much rather do other things to you," he growled into her ear, and when he finally relaxed his torture, he felt her go limp.
She wiped her eyes and looked up at him, the playfulness gone from her glance. "What other things?" she asked huskily, lowering her lids. "How's this for a beginning?" He moved her further up the steps until her hips were out of the water and she shivered on the cold marble surrounding the pool. Before she could protest, he had slipped half way back under and pushed his head between her legs. As he pulled her forwards for better access, she realized with shivering anticipation what he had planned and lay backwards, supporting herself on her elbows, watching him intently. The only other time his mouth had been on her, his skill had been phenomenal. He now rubbed the smooth skin of his chin over her mound, humming into her flesh, before his hands pulled her even further apart and he began kissing and licking her in earnest.
She was still sensitive from their earlier encounter in his study, so it did not take long for her to feel the effects of his attentions. Her thighs rested over his shoulders, the soft skin on their insides feeling the cool caress of his wet hair as he moved, and the heat of his mouth and breath at her core contrasted deliciously with the cold stone beneath and the air surrounding her. She surrendered to the sensations he managed to evoke and told him of her pleasure in moans and gasps. This time, however, he did not persevere until he had brought her off. She opened her eyes as she heard water splash and saw him shift his position. "Will you face me, this time," he asked, no irony in his voice. She blinked, coming out of her haze of heated anticipation. "Yes, Lucius," she said.
With that he rose from the water, letting her legs slide down his torso until she was centered before his cock, and then leaned in to her. On this occasion he took his time, focusing on her as he teased her entrance with his tip, until he felt her impatiently lift her hips. He pulled back, pursing his lips. "So eager, my dear Eleanor. What ever happened to patience?" She tried to reach his hips with her hands. "Me patient? You must have me confused with someone else." He looked down at her intently. "I doubt that," he purred. She frowned, wriggled, still intent on making contact, and he smiled at her persistence. "Then again, who could turn down such determination?" He moved to her again, and presently she felt him slowly, so agonizingly slowly slide into her.
He watched her face, the way her lips parted over her teeth, her brows furrowed and her lids slipped lower over her eyes, as she felt him. Her responsiveness to him was amazing. Sometimes he thought he was playing an exotic instrument, tuned to his every touch and mood. Then as her heated flesh surrounded him analogies became supremely irrelevant, and all that existed in this candle-lit space of water and stone were their bodies, moving against each other. He had kept her legs over his shoulders, so their position now forced her wide open to him, the rest of her body compressed by the forward tilt of his chest. She gasped as she felt the depth of his penetration. She could imagine the tip of his erection bruising her cervix and the mix of pressure and pain set her every nerve on edge.
His hands reached down to hold her against him and she grasped his upper arms for leverage as he began to move in and out of her. Every push tore a sharp breath and a moan from her. It was almost too much, he got so far into her this way, but she would not have him stop or relent in the least, and as she eased into his rhythm she sensed how the initial discomfort gave way to a slow pressure that built inside her. This differed from the sharp, localized tension her own hands or his mouth were able to build in her. It seemed to come from a vastly broader, deeper place, rising not like a wave, but like a groundswell. She whimpered, digging her nails into his arms, but they were both past caring now, his face a mask of concentrated agony as they both sped towards their peak. "Lucius!" she gasped, and then was sure afterwards that she had lost both hearing and vision as her climax crashed around her. All she saw and heard in a haze of roaring red was her own blood, pounding through her. Her body contracted as if her lover had put some kind of orgasmic cruciatus on her.
Cool wet lips on her forehead woke her out of the stupor of her release. Lucius was standing before her, waist-deep in the water. He had pulled her down with him, holding her upright. "Eleanor," he called her softly. "Hmmm," she mumbled, raising her hands to his face. "You are truly a wizard." He shot her a smug smile. "Of course. After all, I promised you the utmost consideration," he said. She leaned against him when exactly at the same moment her stomach gave an insistent growl. "Sorry, I'm famished," she confessed and heard a dry chuckle. "There I believe myself to be an extraordinary lover when in reality you are faint with hunger, not my prowess. Well, we can't have you starve in my arms. How about a late-night meal in the study?" She looked up at him. "That would be perfect. You should be very hungry yourself by now, or did Lepidus feed you?"
Lucius shivered at the memory, despite the warmth of the water. "Yes, there was food and water as he wanted to keep me alive, but I'd rather not remember the taste of it." They both took a few minutes to wash and then as they climbed out of the basin Lucius picked up some towels. Eleanor looked around and shook her head. "We've drowned the place," she laughed.
She summoned her wand. "Exsiccatio!" she commanded and watched the puddles of water that surrounded the tub from their previous water-play evaporate. Lucius remembered his skrying adventure when she had splashed her bathroom at Hogwarts while pleasuring herself and smiled. She must have had occasions to use that spell to good advantage.
After they had dried each other Lucius discarded the towels on the floor, and they stepped back into his bedroom, where the blond wizard clapped his hands. Eleanor gave a yelp of dismay and grabbed a dressing gown to hide herself, as a house elf appeared before them right away. Lucius turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?" She pulled the cloth up to her chin. "We are both stark naked and there is now a house elf in the room, that's what's wrong." Her lover shrugged his shoulders, swiveling his hips towards her and looking completely and proudly at ease in his nakedness. "So, it's just a house elf." The elf had modestly averted his gaze. 'Is it a he-elf or a she-elf?' she thought, unconvinced by the wizard's arrogant disregard. Lucius turned away from her and faced his servant. "You! Clean up the bathroom and then arrange for dinner for two in my study. Hurry!" The elf bowed low. "Yes, master," he whispered and disappeared through the bathroom door.
Eleanor lowered the bathrobe. "Okay, that was a serious difference in modesty levels just then," she complained. Lucius shook his head and stepped towards her. "Look, it's Nibbs, a house elf. I fail to see the significance. It's not like I called in another wizard or witch," he explained again. "Have you never been naked around your familiar?" She faced him. "Yes, but that's an animal, not part of the household staff."
"Very well, if it offends your sensibilities…" He walked over to a large wardrobe and pulled out a dressing gown cut from rich, moss green silk, which he invitingly held open for her. She stepped up to him and had him help her into the cool sensuous fabric. The gown fit her perfectly as she belted the broad silk sash in front.
Before she could thank him, the house elf had actually reappeared, and Lucius made a point of remaining undressed as he conferred with his servant about dinner. Only when Nibbs had scurried off on his errant, did he pick up the black robe Eleanor had used to cover herself with before and slipped into it. A few minutes later the elf poked his head in through the study door and invited them in for dinner. The place had been tidied and their discarded clothes put away. The skrying bowl was also nowhere to be seen.
A side table with two chairs now held a large silver tray laden with dishes, plates, glasses and bottles. Eleanor surveyed the feast laid out before her and smiled at Nibbs. "Thanks," she said, and heard the elf give a surprised squeak while his eyes grew to the size of small saucers. Lucius pulled out a chair for her and clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You are spoiling my staff, my dear," he admonished her. "Displays of modesty, now gratitude – honestly…" He put a playful note into his voice, but she felt that it hid some actual annoyance.
As he seated himself and Nibbs left with a deep bow and a curious glance at her, she decided to close the topic. "Look Lucius, it's none of my business how you treat your house-elves, and I would never presume to interfere. But I consider it a point of honor as a Sartorius to extent courtesy to all magical beings according to their understanding. I will not go out of my way to act churlishly towards your servants, just to please you." He gave her a sharp glance out of grey eyes, then inclined his head to show her he understood and hopefully accepted her position.
The next few minutes were passed in exploring their sumptuous dinner. Nibbs and the kitchen staff had gone all out, miraculously providing freshly baked bread, crackers, different pates and spreads, cold meats and smoked fish, an iced dish with freshly shucked oysters and various cheeses. The bottles held blood-red and pale golden wine, some ruby port, and she even picked up a carafe containing deep amber Scotch. Lucius filled their wine glasses and held his up for a toast. "To daring rescues," he proposed and got no argument from her as she touched her glass to his with a resounding ring.
After a deep appreciative sip she watched her opposite reach for the oyster dish and pick up a shell in his long fingers. However, instead of moving it to his own plate he held it out to her. She tried to take it from him, but he shook his head. "Indulge me, please, my dear," he smiled. So she bent closer and opened her mouth for him as he tilted the shell and slid the cool, salty delicacy between her lips. She swallowed. The oyster was delicious. Not to be outdone, she next selected a sliver of smoked salmon, rolled it around a sprig of dill and fed it to him. He accepted as graciously as she had.
Over the next half hour they ate in companionable near-silence, selecting small morsels for each other on occasion. Watching Lucius' perfect and polished table manners made her realize how relaxed he must feel around her to break protocol by feeding her with his fingers from time to time and accepting the same from her. Finally, over a small piece of Stilton cheese and a last sip of port, she sighed contentedly. He tilted his head and filled two tumblers with a finger's breadth of the Scotch. "Ready for a nightcap?" he asked and pushed one of the glasses towards her. She smiled. "Well, the evening sure didn't look like it was going to shape up to this, but it turned out absolutely perfect, after all. I cannot think of wanting anything else. You are a most gracious host."
Lucius lifted his drink to hers. "Well, be assured I do not treat all my guests like this. But as far as your utter lack of wants is concerned, let's hope that has changed by morning," he suggested. "I would hope to be able to do much more for you…" He trailed off with a brief lift of his eyebrows to let his meaning sink in. She actually found herself blushing a little, as scenes from their earlier exploits in his study and in the bath came back to her. "Nothing that a little sleep can't cure," she promised him. They finished their meal, and while Nibbs cleaned up they finally returned to Lucius' bedroom in the early hours of the morning.
When he had extinguished the candles and she felt his naked body curve around hers under the sheets, as matter-of-factly, as if they had shared his bed forever, she marveled at the pure sense of joy she felt at having him back. She remembered her earlier feelings of dread and loss as she had seen him bound and dying, unsure whether she would ever be able to find him. To now hear his calm and even breath and feel the heaviness of his arm across her side as he held her to him was bliss. She did not know what the next day would bring. She was perfectly aware of the fact that their relationship would never progress to anything beyond this point, and that it would be impossible to ever see eye-to-eye with him as far as Voldemort, muggles or house-elves were concerned. But if tonight was as good as it got, she had no complaints.