Author's Note: Oh là là! People reviewing! Me very pleased, very pleased indeed. I feel like being a total pain in the arse: When I have eleven (11) reviews, I'll update the next chapter. (Ha! I'm evil).
Sirael your review was lovely. This chapter id dedicated to you. And you like the philosophical part in it? Om my, mind if I copy and paste it on my philosophy paper? My philosophy teacher thinks I'm crap!
The sexy flower: Voilà! Updated!
Whogirl: And another brand new chapter. Feel the angst!
Enchanted Light: Hope this chapter isn't dissapointing.
Hellfire: You love it? You better!
My Dirty Little Secret
Lucius woke up that morning with a queasy feeling in his stomach. He smiled. This was an undeniable sign of something good was about to happen that very day.
He had had the same feeling the morning he was supposed to be sent to Azkaban. He had convinced the Dark Lord to send Crabble instead. Crabble had swallowed a very special mix of Polyjuice Potion mixed with Lucius's Malfoys hair and an everlasting potion.
Every wizard with a common sense knew that mixing those two potions had as a result a strong poisoning and very painful death. But the body would looks like Lucius's.
Of course, every one expect Severus had forgotten this little detail. The original plan was to let Crabble rot in Azkaban; but this little inconvenient was very good after all.
And Lucius was a cunning Slytherin. As Crabbe/ fake-Malfoy was transferred to St Mungos, Lucius changed places with Crabble during the short transportation from the ambulance to the Hospital.
Narcissa, beautiful but stupid, believed her husband was dying, and in a fit of love (and stupidity induced by too much alcohol), poisoned herself and died. Lucius didn't mourn her long. She had really a terrible voice, and he couldn't stand it, no matter how pretty Narcissa was.
And besides, he had his Hermione now to cherish. To relish. To attach himself to.
Lucius had spent a month with a mutated virus of chicken pox in bed in Mungos. It had been a torture to see the ugly people around him, but this gave him also the possibility to read the newspaper and to study closely Hermione Granger.
He was very engrossed with the girl. She was quite popular; the Quibbler had published a special article about her that had truly fascinated him. The text itself was dull and talked mainly about her achievement in school. Lucius knew this since his son was always complaining about her.
No, the interesting thing about the article was the picture of her. It was obviously taken during the last school year since the young girl had her school robes on. She wore a crimson long sleeved shirt which tightened around her breasts as she breathed. Her hair was piled into two buns on either side of her head, but still strands of hair escaped from it and framed her face.
What really spellbound him were her hands. They were small and fair, seemed to be soft with perfectly clean nails. Small hands with great power Lucius often thought. How he dreamed of those hands! Those hands running through that hair. Hands writing, scratching, exploring her own body.
He woke up that morning. He first smiled because it was his birthday.
His 42 birthday. Lucius grimaced. He was getting old. In wizarding standard (the only one who mattered) he was still young, but forty-two years was still forty-two years. You don't get any younger.
After being caught in the Ministry in a Death eater costume (and it wasn't Halloween) he had been unofficially fired. Lucius couldn't care less. He could now admire his fine-looking, beautiful art collection all day long. He couldn't really do it whilst Narcissa lived. She didn't understand it, and often buggered Lucius just when he felt almost every drop of beauty being soaked into him.
The day went uneventfully. He received a couple of owls congratulating him for his new year, but Lucius knew the real party started the evening; he was sure Voldemort had some kind of festivity prepared just for him.
Just as presumed, as soon the sun settled away from the sky, Lucius was summoned. Quickly adjusting his mask, he apparated into the dark Lord's Head Quarters.
Lucius cultivated the art of coming fashionably late. He was the last one to pop to the Riddle Manoir. He marched directly into the council chamber and sat down on the chair which was at Voldemort's right side, there were Jesus sits next to God. Lucius liked this analogy. He was close to Voldemort's heart.
The last of the Initial Ones (the Death eaters from the first war) settled themselves comfortably down as Voldemort appeared at the door entrance.
He walked solemnly to his almost-throne. He settled himself down and whistled Nagini. The serpent curled itself around the Dark Lord's feet and snapped its jaw near Lucius's foot playfully.
Lucius liked snakes, and often played with Nagini when the Dark Lord was too occupied brain raping Harry Potter. These games often included a poor House-Elf, and Nagini eating it up under its terrified gleeful squeaks as the poor creature did what its master ordered it to do.
"- Welcome my dear ones. I wish you are feeling well tonight. If you don't, I have news that might cheer you..."
Lucius straighten himself on the chair he was sitting on. This could only be good news.
"- We have a hostage. And a very honourable hostage indeed."
Two scrawny and acne ravaged late teen age boys appeared in the room on their cue.
They held a girl between them.
A young girl in a light blue dress. A short, light blue dress. You could see the lacy petticoat under it. The dress had a corsage that showed a bit of her bosom. The dress clings perfectly to her body without making her look like a slut. She had that unconscious aura of flirtness little girl were surrounded by.
Her eyes were closed and her skin was pale. Only two little pink blots were on her cheeks, like the ones painted on porcelain dolls.
Lucius was so stunned by the beauty of the girl he didn't notice that he had jumped up and pressed his hands together, as if thanking by praying whatever god, goddess or ugly statuette he was worshipping.
Lucius's birthday present had arrived.
Hermione Granger was brought to him. The Masterpiece of Beauty. Lucius already turned to thank the Dark Lord as the girl's eyes fluttered open.
The words never came out.
Lucius sensed how the other Death Eaters sucked in air.
It wasn't possible to be human and have eyes like those. They were two smouldering, incandescent golden burnt suns. Her parents could have impossibly been plain Muggles. Her eyes were asters. Two young suns incrusted into her face like precious gems.
All her doll like appearance has faded away with the opening of her eyes. Her hair was almost black in the candle light, curls casting strange twisted shadows on her face.
Her eyes were first unfocused, but suddenly they started to burn for real. Rage emanated from her eyes. That anger melted the ice in Lucius blue eyes. As the ice melted, drops of tears started to trail down his cheeks.
He wasn't ashamed of his feelings. Beauty drove you crazy.
"- Where am I?"
She steadied herself on her feet and roughly scuffed away the two oafs that held her. They released her, but both stood shoulder to shoulder on each side of her.
"-You are my hostage."
The girl raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.
"- Oh? Really? And I thought I was here to redecorate the house. Black Gothic style is out, pastels are in."
Lucius couldn't help put to clap once more his hands.
So delightful! What a wonderful clear voice. It had the clang of a silver bell, and it rang pleasantly in your ears. Her say was perfect; she articulated clearly, and had a delightful little British accent.
Hermione was becoming more perfect with each passing minute.
She had a sense of humour too. Detail worth taking in consideration.
"- Fierce little thing, aren't you Miss Granger? Please, take a seat."
The two goons by her side pushed her to a stool which was on a small platform. The girl swatted away the boys next to her with a movement of her hand.
She sat down on the chair she was designated to sit on. Her fire eyes travelled large wooden chair, poking the metal structure around it. The girl even tip toed to put her head into the half casket over her head.
She had been bound to the chair with several charms and dark art curses. She was still able to move a bit through.
Lucius had been delighted as she had enumerated the spells cast upon her.
She looked adorable in her blue dress, sitting on a Muggle Electric Chair. The Dark Lord was very fond of it. It was astonishing really what Muggles had invented as torture devices. The Electric Chair made people chatty even more efficiently than Crucio.
Adorable as she was, she looked so out of place in this dark, dusty place. Lucius longed for the moment where he finally could take his gift home and install her in the Dungeon amidst his other treasures.
"- When shall we get started with her?"
Lucius didn't see who asked the question, but fully knew it was Snape. He turned angrily and stared angrily at Snape through the holes of his mask.
The girl squirmed on the chair.
You know the conditions: When I have eleven reviews (or more) chapter three is coming.