Aftermath

Meanwhile, Lucius was ill, unable to stop thinking about his son in bed with that filth. He'd seen her during the forced ceremony and was worried. The parents, those who knew, were allowed to watch from another secured room. The witch was quite beautiful, a cheap dirty beauty that might tempt his son...damn filthy rubbish.

Never you mind that the filth had saved their sorry asses, nor did they care. To them, that was the Mudblood's personal problem; yes, Narcissa and he thought so. On that note, he'd sent her a scroll gifting her several bars of gold bullion, from his personal reserve. Once done, he considered it the end of gratefulness.

Harry'd proposed to send the bullion and their awards to Hermione's sort-of-cousin, Wilbur, a mysterious financial wizard who managed a gold fund. It was a way to protect their money, away from the wizarding world's reach.

They kept a little and turned the rest to Wilbur. The gold was appraised at 250 million sterling, a veritable fortune, which made Wilbur even richer. What a great idea, the fund grew and grew.

One day, their secret stash would come handy. Now, they were glad for their foresight; it was the one hope they had. That day, they would take over and would squash Kingsley and his minions like the bugs they were.

A Nasty Snake

"Narcissa, I still have some influence, I will negotiate to have Draco transferred here; once they arrive, we can figure out the best way to get rid of the Mudbl…" The shock triggered by his words, made him scream.

"Agh, damn, it hurts." He bent to rub his ankles, "I cannot even vent a little, one day they will be sorry."

He had not learned as his next words would prove it. "I will kill the damn witch, this is all her doing. The little social climber, she is dying to get her dirty hands all over our son. Die, witch, die Miss Muddy..." His screams of pain made his dogs go into hiding.

After taking double pain potions, and his muscles still cramping, he went to work. He was hopeless, a failed human being that had let prejudice and evil take control over his life. As for his damaged wife, she just fed his dark side.

After two hours of paying bribes and not leaving any stone unturned, he was able to negotiate Draco's same day transfer, to the Dowager's house. The couples had to live alone for the first year and were not allowed to be visited for the first four weeks. After that time, they were allowed a limited number of visits per month.

At the Dowager's Cottage -

After making sure that the bracelets in place had dampened their magic cores, they were forced to drink a lust potion. Both were equally upset at the unfairness, "You might have made me drink this, but my will is stronger than a witch's brew, " Hermione declared.

Perhaps she was right, yet…there are things more potent than potions.

They sat on opposite sides of the sofas, as far away as the binding magic permitted. Draco had seen the folded scroll under a porcelain. While she looked the other way, he pulled the scroll, swiftly hid it inside a book and pretended to read.

She picked up another book, untied her ankle boots' laces and took off her shoes along with her knee-high socks. She sighed as she stretched her aching legs over the priceless antique table.

Draco followed her movements mesmerized. He looked at her small, slender feet with the toenails painted dark blue with sparkling bits of gold. He had never seen painted toenails, probably a Muggles' thing. Above her ankle she had a tattoo; no, it was a birthmark, a vine of sorts that went part way up her calf, bloody hell, so sexy.

Her now bare calves and feet had made him very aware of her. Damn, his throat was dry, and he was sweating.

Draco tried to turn his attention back to his father's note. It explained how to avoid touching her, and if not able to, how to avoid pregnancy. He couldn't read, the paper was blurry. She was flexing her toes, probably tired. Draco thought her toes looked like tiny sweets and wanted to lick them.

He had only been with a witch once. Lucius had taken him to one, to take lessons on how to please his promised bride, but he hadn't seen much. And, now, I want to see, to see her.

The witch sitting across, had changed over the years. He appraised her, his friends were right; she was flat-out gorgeous, there was no denying it. He remembered. Pucey had told him earlier, after Lucius' spies reported, "If the rumors are true, don't fight it. I wish they had chosen me. It wouldn't be a problem. I've tasted Muggle fruit before, and it's quite tasty. You can drop her later, have some fun. She is trash anyway, so who cares if you use her or not." Yes, that might be right. Plus there was the 'other,' the thing he'd denied, even to himself, since Hogwarts.

Hermione raised a leg a little and put a pillow right under it. In the process, she had given him an eye full. He saw dark knickers, very tiny, covering 'it.' He groaned aloud. His body only wanted one thing.

"Are you well? You sound sick. You look flushed. I hope that you didn't swallow the lust potion that they gave us." She eyed him suspiciously and followed his eyes. Were they fixed on her feet? No, not fixed, glued, what is going on?

A/N Hmm, did he? What do you think? Lucius at his nasty, very.