A vignette, as I try to get into *any* form of writing again. So many stalled o-fics and I needs the pennies...
Also this sprung from the fact that they wanted Jason Isaacs to play Lockhart!
"Severus! Severus, she knows!"
Lucius Malfoy burst out of the floo in a cloud of green fire and smoke. A heartbeat later, a cleaning spell cut through the air, the stink of ash whipped away from the small, shadow-thick room. Yes, Merlin forbid, even in a panic, a Malfoy not appear immaculate.
Severus Snape pinched at the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath. He sank back into his chair, marked the page in his novel and set it on his crossed knee. His quiet Sunday morning was obviously gone.
He watched his friend pace before the hearth, returning firelight limning him. He arched an eyebrow. "Who and what, Lucius?"
Lucius flounced into the matching chair set before the fireplace and his knuckles strained white around the silver head of his walking stick. Something more than Narcissa's snit over the wizard's latest mistress, then? After all, honeyed words and an obscene amount of galleons on some tacky bauble usually eased his wife's thin-lipped anger.
She did know what she'd married. The whole wizarding world was quite aware of a Malfoy's wandering eye. And other parts…
"That foul journalist. Skeeter." Lucius bit out the name. To soothe himself, he stroked long, pale fingers over the silvered sheen of his hair, flicking its perfection over his shoulder. "I —we— burned and buried the records. There was no trail. Nothing." His mouth pinched. "And somehow, somehow, she found out."
Severus frowned. There'd been a number of quite…illicit ventures down the years involving evidence and records. Lucius' silver tongue —and those infamous wandering parts— and his own honed abilities in mind manipulation and general…sneaking, had proven more than useful. Sometimes they'd worked on the orders of the Dark Lord.
Merlin…Tom Riddle. He'd been in the ground —pushed as a lump of dead, naked flesh through the Veil Gate— for two years.
And there'd been acts —mostly— for Lucius' gain. Though the rather nice Northumbrian peel tower that Severus could now call home was a little side venture from which he had benefited.
"Still…who and what, Lucius?"
"Lockhart."
Another bitten out name.
Severus groaned.
That…
Fuck.
Severus sat forward. A panicked Lucius was an unthinking Lucius. "Has she approached you? Is this something she will publish…or is it merely a threat to get you…on side?"
Lucius let his head fall against the high back of the chair and a soft and miserable groan escaped him. Golden firelight gilded his perfect profile. "Of course. I wasn't thinking! Thank you, Severus, for always being the staid and sensible one." He smirked and Severus shook his head. "The bloody woman wants me. Circe's left tit, Severus, am I not allowed to have some standards?"
Severus bit back a smile. Yes, there was the over-we'ening confidence of a Malfoy. But for this secret, he knew Lucius would bed the witch. For as long, and in any way that she wanted.
It was a mortifying fact, after all. Especially to one as proud as the wizard before him. Merlin, even he wouldn't want that in the family tree…
Lucius huffed and hunched his body forward. A wince pulled at his mouth. "Want to share the pleasure?"
Severus shuddered. "Good gods, no!"
And it had been a number of months since they'd taken a witch together. He, unlike Lucius, did not need to find pleasure from a plethora of women when the one he wanted —needed— was curled in the warmth of his bed at that very moment.
His old friend laughed and some of the strain fell away. He stood and whispers of magic straightened the creases in his silvered robes and smoothed the flow of his perfect hair. It was once again a problem he could solve. And solving it with this well-worn cock was always the easiest way for one Lucius Malfoy.
He looked to the passage beyond the little sitting room. His grey eyes gleamed. "I would happily share…"
Severus stilled. Only this wizard was aware of who his witch was. As Lucius worked to keep his secrets, so did Severus. A fist closed tight in his chest at the thought of Lucius Malfoy anywhere near—
"Pax, brother." Lucius held up a manicured hand. "I never venture where I am not welcome, you know that." A curve of a dark smile touched his lips. "And now that I am thinking again, I will hunt out Skeeter and give her what she so desires. Namely me."
In a sweep of spun floo powder and expensive silken robes, Lucius Malfoy vanished from the sitting room.
"He's gone?"
His witch stepped out from the shadows of the passage and Severus held out his hand. The patter of bare feet on stone and rugs and his lap was filled with the warm, mostly-naked form of Hermione Granger. She snuggled, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw and Severus let out a soft sigh. His hand teased along the bare length of her thigh, still warm from their bed. Yes, he would curse even as old and good a friend as Lucius Malfoy into a stain on the stone floor if he tried anything with this witch.
"I wouldn't entertain the thought of him for a second." Her voice was soft and low and it still caught him how she could read him so easily. So well. "I don't share, Severus."
"Neither do I." He huffed a laugh. "Not anymore."
"Good."
She lifted an eyebrow, her eyes shining as he met her gaze. "What had him in such a tizzy?"
He smirked at the word. "His most desperate family secret. His father, as with all Malfoys, tended to wander. Though, unlike others and particularly Lucius, he was not…careful."
Hermione blinked. She was quick. But then she always was. "Lockhart. Gilderoy Lockhart is a Malfoy." She blinked again. "Lucius' brother. Draco's Uncle." A bark of laughter took her and she shook her head. "That's…"
"Something he would fuck Rita Skeeter into the floor to keep quiet."
She shuddered, just as he had and it broke a smile from him.
"Not a pleasant thought."
"No…"
Hermione stroked a finger along the plane of his jaw. "I believe I can sway you into a much more…satisfying state."
"Indeed…Miss Granger?"
Her already dark eyes blew wide. Her breathing hitched. Yes, the little witch had a touch of deviancy with which he was more than happy —and willing— to play. He drew light runes over the lush curve of her skin, inching his fingers under her thin cotton shirt to the warm crease of her thigh. His thumb…teased.
Hermione's eyelids fluttered, the delicious hint of pink chasing across her cheeks.
"Please…sir."
Breathy and begging. Gods, he was a lucky bastard.
"Have you been a good girl?"
The rich scent of her arousal quickened his blood. Her pulse beat fast at her throat and the flush deepened, chasing down across her chest. He was well aware of the power of his voice, its beauty, and he was always, always quite ruthless in its application.
"No, no, sir, I've been ever so…naughty."
"Ah," his thumb stoked down, teasing her sex and she mewled, "naughty witches serve quite…exacting detentions under the Potions Master."
"Gods…"
A shocked squeal later and he was standing with Hermione slung over one shoulder. He slapped her bared arse and a choked gasp escaped her.
They were a secret. One of so many in his forty years. Had been since the previous summer. He didn't want her reputation…sullied. She said she didn't care, but he was a protecting dragon with this particular treasure. No harm would come to her, and certainly not from him…
"Ready, my witch?"
"Always."
It was little more than a whisper, but it wrapped tight wound Severus' heart.
They were a secret. One day, they wouldn't be.
