Thank you all for reading and reviewing! You've inspired me to finish my update earlier than I planned!
On to the aftermath of Ron's stupidity...
Someone shot a spell at the crystalline needles scattered all over the floor. Champagne flute immediately repaired itself. Hermione looked behind her and saw that the caster of the spell was Ginny. The redhead cautiously approached the group and placed herself between the two sides.
"Do try to be careful, Ron," Ginny chided her brother. "You don't want your guests to think you did that on purpose now, do you?" Her voice carried a subtle threatening note that was very reminiscent of Molly Weasley.
Ron ignored both his sister and the blond wizard, looking only at Hermione. "I'm glad you made it, Hermione." He stepped toward her, arms open for the obligatory hug. She moved awkwardly to reciprocate him; however, Lucius thrust an arm between them, waylaying Ron into a cold and ungainly handshake.
"Mr. Weasley," he rasped, "You're looking well."
Hermione looked at Ginny in alarm, who twisted her mouth into an unimpressed grimace. The irony was that Ron looked many things that night, but no one would say 'well' was one of them. His face was unshaven, his eyes bloodshot, and his wrinkled shirt tail had come untucked on one side.
"Malfoy," he grumbled, and they traded glares. "I'm so glad to see you, Hermione." He rose to his toes, peering at her over Lucius's shoulder. "I really missed you."
"Well, I was so busy, you know, with work and everything…"
"Yeah, I get it." He shrugged, his eyes dancing back to Lucius.
At this moment, Ginny noticed the photo and let out a strangled shriek. "What the … the hell?" she sputtered, gesturing with her cocktail glass. She quickly regained her vocal ability and blasted Ron, "This was supposed to be an exhibit and a birthday party, not tawdry attempt to embarrass your ex! You'd better take it down immediately! How would you like it if Mum had an exhibit of your baby pictures?" She turned to Hermione. "Did you know about this?"
"No. This part was conveniently left out of my invitation," she said through gritted teeth.
Ron held up his hands. "It wasn't meant to be embarrassing. Honest. And there's nothing tawdry or vulgar about it; you can't see any private body parts! See how the fan is the only color in it? It's artistic, Ginny. Like you would know anything about art!"
"Oh, and you do?" she shot back. "You don't even know the difference between Impressionism and Expressionism."
"You do have a gift, Mr. Weasley." Lucius sneered. "It's really a shame to see you squander it."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "How so?"
Lucius's fingers idly began to play with Hermione's loose curl that teased her collarbone "I can't imagine how successful you'll be in this endeavor if you keep using work without models' permission."
The air left Hermione's lungs, supplanted by panic. She identified a chill of terror in her lover's voice. Clearly, he wasn't going to let it be.
Ron flushed. "All photographs belong to me. I took them and I own them. They weren't professional jobs where contracts would be signed; they were for me and by me. Do you expect me to apologize for showing off my best work?"
Lucius nodded. "I do."
No. No, no, no… Hermione shot a wild-eyed distress signal to Ginny, desperate for a neutral party to intercede over what was about to happen. The other witch caught her eye and nodded in understanding.
"Hey, why don't we move this conversation somewhere more private?" Ginny suggested. "The more attention this skirmish will attract, the more people will see that picture."
Both wizards ignored her as Lucius continued, "Regardless who has the legal ownership of the photograph, you exploited her, Weasley. You put her body, her image, on public display without her consent. Art, revenge, boredom, contest – it was a contemptible act no matter what your motivations were. For her sake, however, I'm willing to rectify your mistake. How does ten thousand Galleons sound? Fair?"
Hermione stared down at the floor, wishing she could disappear. Why couldn't they just convince Ron to take it down? Why wasn't Lucius content with that? Why was he so intent on destroying it when half the guests have probably already seen it? Would its destruction suddenly make everyone magically unseen it?
"It's not for sale," Ron firmly replied.
"Fine. Twenty thousand?"
"Are you hard of hearing?" Ron demanded, raising his voice. "I said, it's not for sale!"
Hermione wanted to stop them. She really did, but her mouth just wouldn't obey her. She was petrified – her body transformed to stone, and about as warm as the photograph over which they squabbled.
Lucius leveled his gaze at Ron. "One hundred thousand Galleons, Weasley."
It must have been the magic number. For a time, Ron was quiet, stone-faced, and clearly considering the offer. He'd have been a fool to turn it down. And yet, he was obstinate and shook his head.
"Some things your money can't control, Malfoy. I'm one of them. Why do you want it so much? You can have thousands of pictures of her just like it. Why mine?"
"So I can dispose of it," Lucius said matter-of-factly.
"Well, I won't sell, so stop asking."
They locked eyes like rams locking horns. "You're making a mistake, Weasley."
"Yeah, whatever. But I'm willing to admit when I'm wrong," Ron said, looking at Hermione.
Her ears perked up. Was he offering a truce? It was the mature gesture she did not expect from her ex-boyfriend.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. Seriously, I should've asked your permission in the first place. I didn't consider your feelings. I thought you'd be impartial to it as a work of art. It's honestly my best work, and I wanted to show it off."
"What's done is done. Just take it down," she said, barely above of whisper, and wasted the only breath left in her chest.
Lucius stroked the bare skin of her shoulder, sending a feathery chill down her back. It was odd. Hermione was still embarrassed, but was also grateful. Earlier, Lucius mentioned that Ron owed her an apology and now one was laid at her feet. Once more, she felt like a normal human being, entitled to dignity, and not a piece of chattel to be priced, auctioned off, and sold to the highest bidder.
"Believe me, I didn't do it to embarrass you," Ron restated.
"If you'll take it down right now, we'll put it behind us," Hermione said, leaning closer to Lucius. He wrapped his arm around her and affectionately squeezed her hip.
Ron complied, looking wistfully at the photograph. "But you remember that night, don't you?" He touched her image in it. "We made love all night. You quoted someone clever, and said you'll always love me. When I stopped by last week, you said you still thought about that night."
No. Her blood froze. No, I don't. I didn't say it...
"You know that's not true! That's not what I said, at all! Not even close!" she cried out in defense. Hermione didn't dare to glance at Lucius, but she could feel his entire body tightening around her. She cringed, unable to believe she could be so naive. Ron's truce was a trick — it was a ploy, and a cheap one, to drive a wedge in between her and her new love. True, it was difficult to say who'd really drawn first blood, but Ron's taunt was beyond the pale.
"One wonders," Lucius seethed softly, "was that the same night you told her how unsanitary it was for you to pleasure her orally?" He cocked his head wolfishly. "Was it the night you made her feel ashamed of her body? So ashamed, she still has reservations about that particular act."
Ron's face sank, and his smirk disintegrated. Whatever his stratagem had been, wherever it was meant to lead him, he obviously didn't expect Lucius to dash it all apart so gnomically.
He stammered, scrabbling for his retort. "I didn't mean … It was years ago … I didn't know what I was doing back then. Hermione, I never meant to hurt your feelings. I was afraid of doing it wrong..…
"It's almost poetic, Weasley — the night you created your best work of art was the night you drove her away with your ignorance. To think that the sweetest, most succulent part of her you cruelly rejected without a second thought, while I get to indulge in it every night."
"Shut up, Malfoy! What the fuck is your problem?"
Lucius's jaw locked. "I've tried to be civil about this, Weasley. I have." His hand drifted to her bottom. "But what precisely did you expect would happen tonight? You would invite my witch here to see that you still value her keepsake — to see how nothing else in the room measures up to that one, small piece of her. How intensely you've been imagining her in your bed like that." His fingers tauntingly traced patterns on her flesh. "Were you hoping she would come running back to you for that? Or was it something else entirely? You wanted to get her drunk? To dance with her? Seduce her? Undress her? To see how much of her body has changed since you've snapped that photograph? Tell the truth, now. She deserves to hear it."
He ended his obloquy, and Hermione's thoughts went black. The groups chattering around them began to quiet down and cast curious looks in their direction as Lucius's tone became louder, harsher, crueler.
She wanted to leave, right then and there. Just leave them both to their pissing contest. But she didn't have the strength to step out of Lucius's embrace, so Hermione stood rooted next to him.
Ron scowled. "No, not even close. I wanted to see her tonight to tell her goodbye. I'm moving to Dublin. George was able to find good premises there. Real good deal. We thought it would be a good idea to expand the joke shop's branches internationally. I'm going to head out there and start it up."
Goodbye? Hermione was stunned, and he dropped his gaze to her again, his glare gradually unraveling.
"Wow… when will you leave?" she asked him.
"First of September. That's when we'll officially own the place. Been thinking lately that I need a change. Some perspective. And since there's really nothing keeping me here… Anyways, all I wanted to do tonight was to say that I'll miss you."
Hermione's heart sank a little lower in her chest, weighted with a massive anchor of guilt. She could barely believe how badly things had gone; how far and how fast they'd spiraled out control. In her vanity, she thought he was attempting to get back together, when he simply wanted to part on good terms without the same air of awkwardness that they've operated under since their break-up. They hadn't been in the same room for longer than five minutes in two years, and all he wanted was a proper goodbye to honor their years of friendship.
Ron went on, "And I wanted to warn you to get yourself away from him." He glared again at Lucius.
Are you kidding me?
The anchor line snapped, and he set her adrift. Lucius was standing right here — right here next to her. Was Ron deliberately trying to be stupid to provoke him into another row? Was it supposed to impress her?
"I think it's wise that you're leaving, Weasley." Lucius tone, menacing before, grew almost demonically serene. "Truly. It's the least foolish thing you've said all night."
"Well, like I said, we all need a change of scenery, you know what I mean, Hermione?"
"She does, in fact," Lucius icily answered in her stead, "which is why we're getting out of the city ourselves this week."
Wait. What? Her eyes widened. "We are?"
He nodded. "I planned to surprise you." His hand moved up to caress her back. "But perhaps it's better you know. Particularly after tonight." His eyes flashed at Ron. "I think we both could use a breath of fresh air."
"Where?" Ron demanded. "Where are you taking her?"
"I have a place in Mustique," the older wizard answered without glancing away from Hermione. "The sun. The beach. The crystal clear waters." He smirked. "How does that strike you, Miss Granger? "
A desperate smile split over her lips. "Sounds perfect," she replied. She'd go to the North Pole if it meant they could get away from the media hailstorm that this night would undoubtably create.
Lucius leaned to kiss her. She sighed into his mouth, deepening the kiss. So relieved, Hermione almost forgot Ron was there with them, as she suckled at his bottom lip. His hands splayed across her back as he pressed her closer to him,
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I can't do it. I can't do it anymore!" Ron fumed. "I can't see him treating you like this, and pretend it doesn't drive me fucking insane. Just look at you. He's got you trained like his pet: he tells you what to do, and you go along with it. It's fucking disgusting. It's abusive. And I don't care if you hate me for it — someone has to tell you!" His shoulders shook. "You're going to regret this. He'll hurt you. Badly! Even Ginny said she never meant to set you up with him on that date. This is all just a big mistake. You'll end up heartbroken, if not dead!"
Hermione felt her heart wither. "Ron, that's enough."
By now, they were the show, not the exhibit. The crowd of onlookers doubled at this display, and the music no longer played. Was it midnight yet? All she wanted to do was wish Harry a happy birthday and get out of this hell. Lucius must have sensed it. One look at her, and the suffering on her face was self-evident.
"You heard the witch. I think we're done here." There was brimstone on his breath as he held out his hand to her. "Are you ready to leave, love?"
She nodded shakily and placed her hand in his.
"Na-uh!" Ron stepped closer to Lucius. "No. She's not going anywhere with you. You're done, Malfoy. You're done controlling her."
"Hermione," he repeated calmly, releasing her hand, "would you prefer to stay here or would you like to leave?"
"I'd like to leave. I'd like to leave." Her voice quavered, and a tear tracked down one cheek, "Right now."
"Of course, she'd fucking say that! You've probably got her under Imperius Spell." Ron yanked at his hair, exasperated. "Hermione, he's pulling your strings like a fucking puppet. You're only saying what he wants you to say."
They eyed each other murderously.
"You're wrong," Hermione said. "No one's controlling me, by spells or otherwise. I really do want to leave."
Ron was speechless.
"Goodbye, Mr. Weasley," Lucius said, smirking in satisfaction as he took her hand once more, leading her briskly past Ron toward the door. "Please convey our regards to Mr. Potter."
"Wait! No, wait!" Ron's mouth was gaping as he dashed after them. "Just listen! "
He snatched Hermione's arm. She cried out in pain, and then wasn't sure what happened next. With a speed that defied physics, Lucius put himself between them. She heard two dull, fleshy thuds, then a hiss of pain. And just as suddenly as it started, it was over. Ron dropped to his knees, coughing violently and clutching his stomach. Lucius stepped back, his eyes still ablaze.
Oh my God. Hermione shuddered, looking from one to the other, and back again. Her entire body went numb.
Lucius's tone descended to a snarl. "Touch her again against her will, and so help me, I will kill you with my bare hands." Then he pointed his wand at the photograph and it went up in flames before their eyes.
Hermione felt her knees buckle and nearly give out underneath her. She glanced at Ron, still spluttering and gasping on the floor. Consumed by conflicting emotions, she felt intensely sorry for him. She felt guilty for coming there in the first place just to flaunt her new relationship in his face when he seemed so suspicious of it. However, Hermione also felt tricked because he'd not bothered to tell her about the photograph. Who in the world shows off private pictures in an art show? If it was for artistic reasons, she would have never posed for it. She did it for fun and for love, and they agreed before that it would stay between them. He betrayed her in the worst possible way, and she was so angry at him for being such an unrelenting, inconsiderate duffer.
The young witch also felt a minor annoyance directed at Lucius as well. He didn't need to goad Ron or try to buy him off. And yet, the way he defended her, with words and actions … Hermione was grateful to him … grateful to have his support. Despite her indignation, she was incredibly aroused.
She squeezed his hand as they fled the whole hellish little annex. They didn't slow until they reached his car, and then all was quiet. There was no music on the drive back to Lowndes Square. For a while, there wasn't even words.
Then he finally spoke, "Are you angry with me?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not angry with you. Not in the least. I only wish you hadn't hurt him."
His eyes were fastened to the road ahead. "I apologize for putting you through this." His fists tightened around the wheel. "I'm the jealous type. I was enraged to learn he was still pursuing you, but I never would have brought you tonight if I had known he'd stoop so low." He blew a hot sigh through his nostrils.
"He was terrible tonight," she agreed. "But I still don't want him to be in physical pain."
"I know you care for him as a friend." He frowned. "If you didn't, Hermione, I might have beat him bloody before we left."
He isn't serious. He couldn't be so violent.
She shut her eyes against the image her mind conjured of him in the Department of Mysteries.
"You know, he really believes he's trying to look out for me. In his own misleading way."
"I'm sure." Lucius's mouth tightened as he suppressed a sneer. "And do you think you need looking after?"
She stared at him, admiring the geometric shadows across his face from the night lights.
Hermione smiled at him and reached over to squeeze his strong thigh. "I believe the only one who can look after me is you." Her hand skated up to cup his cock. She felt him swell at her touch. "I need you to take me. Your witch is aching for you."
"Insatiable little thing, aren't you?" he teased, but pulled over into a dark, deserted street and tapped his wand on the windshield.
Hermione didn't answer. Her hands shook as she unbuckled her seatbelt. His eyes remained on her as she climbed over the center console and straddled his lap. His fingers sank into her thighs. Her eyes closed.
"Take me," she said, rolling her hips against him like a lapping wave.
He hardened even more, but said nothing. She clumsily tugged at his belt and unfastened his fly. His entire body was primed.
"So impatient," he chided softly, but his words nearly burned her with their heat. Her skin scintillated and seared.
He freed himself, almost angrily, and tore the lace panel of her knickers aside, then drove into her. They made love slowly and silently. Her lips glided over him, his hands guiding her the whole time, gripping her harder as he thrust deeper. Hermione held off her climax, she didn't want to come. She wanted to linger in this moment for as long as humanly possible. She undulated faster over him, moaning, but denying herself. Her body was his own. Then his jaw tensed as he stiffened. With a low groan, he spilled inside her with satisfaction. The spontaneity of the moment precluded taking their usual precautions.
They remained quiet. He held her with aloofness, obviously brooding.
He sighed. "Mea culpa. I shouldn't have allowed that."
"It's what I wanted," she tried to placate him. It was the truth, after all.
He ran a hand through her undone, tangled hair, still distant. He kissed her and took a linen handkerchief from his pocket. Hermione watched him unfold it, crease by crease, and spread it smoothly over his palm to wipe away his opal emissions from her flesh. She bit her lip, swallowing another moan. The handkerchief was so soft and his seed so slick. He continued to move the cloth up and down in gentle strokes. Without a warning, she quivered and came as he cleansed her.
"You never cease to amaze me, Miss Granger," he said, genuinely stunned.
You don't know the half of it, Lucius Malfoy.
She wanted to tell him right then and there. The timing was perfect.
But she didn't. Something held her back, but she didn't know what.
"I'm so tired," she managed to say instead.
He brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Me too. Home?"
She kissed his temple and nodded.