He hated her.
Her beautiful face with its plush, curving lips, wide eyes molten gold and that insufferable, ridiculous hair which refused to be tamed. It looked so silky, he wondered idly how it would feel wrapped around his hand while her lips were wrapped around his cock.
He tried not to notice that her body was lithe, with soft curves, high breasts and long legs.
He loathed that she moved with an unconscious grace which was the kind you could only be born with for its caliber could not be taught in any finishing school.
She was dirty, impure and yet her innocence shone from beneath her thick, dark eyelashes like a beacon.
He longed to crush it.
He was by no means a gentle man, even though his breeding said otherwise. He was a savage dressed in the clothes of an aristocrat. Many feared him, as they should, for he enjoyed crushing those spineless welps who could not find the fortitude to stand up to him. In fact it was this very quality which had made him Voldemort's right hand man. His dominion over men was a desirable trait in the first among the Dark Lord's death eaters.
Danger oozed from every pore and his piercing blue eyes could silence a person or indeed an entire room with a single glance of displeasure.
No one stood before him without quaking - except her.
Mudblood! How dare such as she defy the name of Malfoy! Their name spanned a millennia, their blood pure and untarnished by muggle filth and yet she stubbornly refused to bow and scrape as subordinates and inferiors should. Instead of humbling herself, she raised that chin of hers arrogantly, as if she were somehow better than him.
Of course, she was just a child compared to him. His handler - he sneered the word mentally as he apparated directly into the room they always used as their rendezvous point. The shrieking shack was haunted, supposedly, although Lucias has never seen anything to substantiate the stories. Either way he'd never feared ghosts.
He knew only too well that there were far more deadly creatures to fear - like himself for one.
The arrogant child appeared with only a small pop. He was impressed, despite himself, not many witches could apparate quite so silently. Her magical prowess angered him despite himself. The idea that muggleborns had stolen their magic was laughable and Lucias was far from a fool to allude any truth to such a fanciful fairytale.
And yet. There was always that small, miniscule shadow of a doubt which angered him. This witch was gifted even among her peers according to his son who had pitted himself against her on a daily basis when they had been at Hogwarts together.
She was physically clean although pale and malnourished. He suspected that she bathed before their meetings, probably in a stream, judging by her damp hair which curled around her face and shoulders. A war time camp was hardly conducive with personal hygiene and yet she'd tried to clean up. This meant something, his eyes glittered as his lips lifted on one corner a miniscule amount.
"Ah, Miss Granger, you really shouldn't have bothered trying to make yourself attractive on my account." He sneered cruelly, intimating that such a thing wasn't possible.
Hermione stared at him, her gaze angry and embittered, she looked about to hex him.
She bit her lower lip and his gaze followed the movement lazily, a predatory stillness about him. She shivered. This man terrified her on some deeply buried primal level even she didn't fully understand. She never tried to examine it too closely, preferring to ignore it.
He looked deadly, autocratic, intimidating. He oozed power. She shivered.
Hermione knew Lucias Malfoy was evil and yet from the very beginning she'd agreed to be his 'handler', his point of contact within the order, the one who collected his intel on a weekly basis. Strangely enough, he had not balked when he'd been told the identity of his contact. He'd agreed to spy for them regardless, his motives unclear. Every bit of information he gave them had proven to be sound, vital in fact to their recent victories.
She licked her dry lips and her belly clenched as his intense, enigmatic blue gaze watched far too closely for comfort.
"Do you have anything for me?" She asked at last, her soft voice curiously husky.
She cleared her throat a little awkwardly.
He advanced on her slowly, his gait unhurried and languid. The tapping of his walking stick was the only sound in the silence of the dusty room.
Lucias used his cane as an unneeded but elegant crutch, his wand incased within the onyx shaft. The cane had the head of a snake as a handle, it had glittering emerald eyes which shone at Hermione from between his long, elegant fingers. His hands were large, she noticed, strong. He could crush her skull if he tried, his hands could envelop her face…her body…
Her breath hitched in her chest.
He was much taller than her, intimidatingly so. She took in his expensive black robes which contrasted spectacularly with his long platinum blond hair which was tied back with a black tie. His cloak was attached with identical serpent clasps on either shoulder. Hermione realized rather belatedly that she was staring, mouth agape. She rapidly dropped her eyes.
"There will be two separate, simultaneous attacks on the northern safe houses tomorrow night. Edinburgh and Leeds. Move the children." His intel was short and to the point, just as it always was.
She nodded and turned to leave and then hesitated for a moment.
"Why do you do this?" She asked, finally voicing her curiosity.
His lips twisted, gaze icy. "I have my reasons, Miss Granger, let's leave it at that, shall we?:
"You're a death eater in the Dark Lord's inner circle, why aid the order at all?" She prodded, unsure of her own motives in questioning him now. It had been weeks since they'd first forged this alliance and she'd been dying to know his reasoning all along. "Your punishment if you're discovered will indeed be terrible. I don't imagine that your defection would be taken lightly."
He sneered at her. "Indeed." He drawled, his tone deadly. "Do not presume to know who I am or why I do the things I do, mudblood. It is none of your concern."
"Don't call me that." She snapped, her voice trembling a little, her chin stubbornly high. "Your ideals are what got us into our current situation, if you recall."
Lucias smirked. "Tsk, tsk, so arrogant, Miss Granger! You act as if someone of your…" he paused, his eyes glittering with malice. " Less than pure blood…is worthy to look me in the eye." He was baiting her in return, she realized with a jolt of surprise.
She'd never imagined Lucias Malfoy willing to speak to her at any length at all, he never usually did, always leaving almost at once after delivering his intel.
She swallowed hard and her eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching towards where her wand was hidden in a holster on her left arm. She wanted to hex him, curse him, anything to harm him in some way, to wipe that damn smirk off his arrogant face.
"Despite your antiquated views, I'm still a witch, Mr Malfoy, despite my humble, muggle birth." She sneered. "I am your equal, Sir, in every way that matters."
Icy fury burned in his eyes. So ferocious, that Hermione took a step back. He followed her, effectively driving her backwards across the room.
"You will never be my equal little mudblood." He stated with finality, a detestable smirk twisting his lips, his tone disparaging. "There are many things to consider when measuring two people as equals, birth, rank, title and of course… experience." His tone was suggestive,dark and twisted.
Hermione's belly clenched in response. Merlin! Could a witch get pregnant from a wizard merely speaking? His voice! It was pure, unfettered sin. She had to get out of there, Lucias Malfoy was lethal to her self control. She shouldn't have tried to start this conversation with him, for it had barely begun and she was already dangerously out of her depth with him.
She tried to escape by going left, but he subtly changed his course to prevent her from reaching the door. She tried to go right and the same happened again.
And then she realised with a frisson of fear that Lucias Malfoy was stalking her!
Her heart was beating crazy fast, threatening to choke her and her lips were desert dry. She moved until she could feel the wall at her back.
She was trapped.
She could apparate, of course, back to sanity. But some weird, masochistic part of her refused to back down. He would laugh at her for running away like the inexperienced girl he accused her of being. After all, she had to see him again and she wouldn't be able to hold her head up if she ran now.
He stared down at her in a way which made her heart pound. She felt alive while with him, baiting him only added to this.
She stared at him, mesmerized, much like a rabbit caught in the foxes gaze, terrified and yet unable to run.
Lucias smiled, his eyes never leaving her face.
Slowly, his hand lifted and clasped around the base of her throat almost gently and then with lightning fast reflexes, he pinned her to the wall. Hard. Her body hit the wooden paneling with a muffled thud. She wasn't hurt, merely winded. Her magic sizzled and then sparked, flitting along her skin and hair, rushing to meet him. She reached up to grasp the hand which held her with both of hers, touching him for the very first time. She tried to pull free from his hold but it was like trying to move a mountain. There was not one inch of give in his iron grip.
Their magic collided and it shook them both to the core, molten gold firewhiskey eyes flying to meet glittering, sapphire blue.
Hermione's pulse fluttered wildly, her heart hammering away like a runaway train. Some other alien sensation curled through her lower belly and she whimpered, her breath coming out in shallow pants from between parted lips. Her skin was on fire where his hand encircled her throat. His touch was electric and all consuming. It was too much, it was too little, it wasn't nearly enough.
She could taste his scent on her tongue. Spicy-clean and manly, laced with some unknown scent she thought was just him. There was a faint scent of firewhiskey on his breath, masked subtly with cloves.
Lucias stroked the velvet soft skin of her throat with his thumb, it was still cool to the touch which substantiated his earlier guess at the location of her bathing. He marveled at the headlong rush of his magic towards her. Why? Why?
Mudblood filth had never looked so attractive, he thought with derisive humor. He admired her bravery, her tenacity and her ability to stand up to him. He'd never seen another witch so alluring and yet she was meant to be untouchable to him.
Lucias admired the crackle of magic as it shimmered along the chaotic mass of ringlets atop her head. Her magic was fiery; amber-red strands of earth's majestic core emanating from the tiny witch he held. He could feel the magnetic pull of her magic towards his own. Who would have guessed that the Master of Malfoy manor and the muggleborn insurgent would share a magical core?
Lucias felt his cock twitch as the witch whimpered softly.
He vaguely recalled the reason why it was important when two magical beings shared a magical signature, he'd undoubtedly been taught something about it as a boy along with copious amounts of other facts purebloods ought know. But right then, he couldn't bring himself to care when all he could think about was how this witch stirred his blood like no one had before.
Hermione watched as his electric gaze dropped to where his fingers curled around the slender column of her throat. His expression was knowing, as if he knew exactly how aroused she was by his show of brute force.
What did he know? She panicked. He must never know just how insanely attractive she found him. He was evil, he'd use it against her, against the order.
She willed herself to calm down, but her body refused to co-corporate.
His hand tightened experimentally for a moment while he studied her face, far closer than he'd ever been to her before. She could see the darker ring which encircled the blue in his eyes, perfectly straight nose and cruel, yet sensual lips.
His thumb lifted to the outer curve of her lower lip and then traced a fiery path along the seam where her lips met.
"Little mudblood." He murmured, his cultured voice rough. "How your heart races! Is it fear? Or is it from something far more …interesting?"
Unthinkingly, Hermione wet her lips, her tongue grazing his thumb. She cursed her own stupidity as Lucias eyed the movement like a hungry wolf. He slowly rubbed her own saliva into her skin, tugging ever so slightly on her lower lip. His gaze darkened as her lips parted.
For the first time in her life she couldn't find her voice, so she shook her head.
He lifted his cane beside her head and she flinched unconsciously expecting violence, which made him chuckle. Instead of hurting her, he hung it on a broken bit of paneling and his now free hand dropped to grip her waist and then her hip. Gooseflesh erupted across her skin.
Her blood rushed through her veins at a dizzying speed and she realised with great embarrassment that she was panting softly.
"If I'm so inferior, why do you want to touch me?" She demanded, her voice sounding unlike her own. It was husky and foreign.
"Indeed. It's a question I've asked myself more times than I care to admit and somehow the answer still eludes me." He said low and deadly.
His gaze imprisoned hers as his left hand dropped further to the junction of her thighs.
Terrified, she clasped her legs together as he pressed his hand against her most private place. Lucias looked less than pleased and the next moment she found his hard, muscular thigh pressed between hers, prising her legs apart forcefully. Instead of being mortified or indeed terrified, her body reacted with a surge of moisture between her legs. Her underwear felt drenched.
She'd never felt this happen before and her cheeks flooded with color.
What was wrong with her?
His hand tightened around her throat again as he unbuttoned her jeans and pushed inside. Hermione writhed in his grasp, finally trying to get free, as if her brain was suddenly functioning after being released from a stupefy. But then those long, dexterous fingers slid into her underwear and her brain stopped functioning once again.
He stroked along her slit and then through her folds. He found her wet and ready.
"You're dripping little mudblood." He said in an uncharacteristically rough voice, his blue eyes demonic in their intensity.
She whimpered as he slid to her entrance and pushed inside ever so slightly. Her hips moved as of of their own accord begging to be fully impaled. She felt so empty, the ache deep inside her begged to be filled…by him.
"So eager, my dear?" He taunted, his face beside her ear now, his breath making her mouth water as it ghosted across her face. He was gravity and he was dragging her in, closer to him, she was…. falling….falling…
"No…Im not…" she denied hotly, trying to use the last vestiges of her self control to turn away. "Don't touch me."
"Oh yes, my dear Miss Granger, your cunt is positively drenched. You want me to touch you, don't lie. It's pointless, because I know." His voice was sinful; the contrast between his cultured accent and his lewd words caused Hermione's lower body clench.
As he said this he thrust not one, but two fingers onto her causing her to lift up onto her toes. She cried out and arched into his touch, her body out of control.
He was fascinated by her face, her expressions were laid bare by desire.
Her soft, full lips were open, gasping as his intrusion into her tight cunt, while her golden eyes glowed with a heat so intense he knew it could burn him alive.
Lucias hovered above her, even closer than before, as he slowly moved his fingers in and out of her excited body.
Her sweet breath hit his face in tiny bursts and he breathed her in, their lips barely an inch apart.
In all his thirty-six years of life, he'd never wanted to kiss anyone more, not even his beautiful purebred wife, may she rest in peace.
Giving in to the urge, he lowered his mouth to hers. The delicious sensation of it took her breath away, his lips were firm and demanding, brutal. Hermione whimpered as he drove his tongue into her mouth, so deeply she could barely breathe and yet she didn't want him to stop.
His thumb found the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit and stroked. She bucked into the touch, demented by the sensory overload.
She kissed him back, her tongue tentatively moving against his. Her hands were not pushing him away any more but instead pulling him into her, against her deliriously aching body.
The room slid sideways and somehow they were on the floor. He held her down, one large hand still wrapped around her throat as her body convulsed around his fingers as they curled within her wet, excited body.
He found places inside her she'd never known existed, they drove her to the brink of insanity. The pleasure was almost painful in its intensity. Something was going to break, she was going to shatter - explode, combust.
Hermione's thighs parted naturally to accommodate his hips. She could feel his erection against her thigh. His taste, the feel of him bearing down on her was everything.
He kissed her brutally, his tongue thrusting into her mouth mercilessly and she moaned through swollen lips writhing against him. Taking all he could give and more. Secretly she'd wanted this for longer than she dared admit, even to herself.
Suddenly Lucias abandoned her mouth and her needy quim and reared back on his knees between her spread thighs. His expression was harsh with desire, his eyes glowing with an unholy light. Hermione was excited and terrified at once. This man could break her, in every sense of the word and she wanted him more than her next breath.
He ripped her jeans off her with his hands, not magic, tugging and tearing as if it delighted him to leave her clothing in tatters and then her knickers follwed suit.
She'd never been completely naked with anyone before. There had been a few times when she'd gotten half naked while making out with Ron, but never like this. Her cheeks were heated and she refused to meet his gaze.
" Look at me." He demanded harshly.
She did. Her entire body trembling as she obeyed him. Perversely, she wanted to obey him. Why did she want to please him?
He tore her top in half and her nipples pebbled as soon as the cool air hit them and he smirked as she tried to cover herself.
"Don't." He told her in a tone which brooked no refusal. "I want to look at you."
He leaned over her and gasped her neck again, this time as a caress. Hermione's eyes rolled back in her head in pleasure as his fully clothed chest brushed her hyper sensitive breasts.
His free hand cupped one breast, long, wickedly talented fingers tugging on one turgid bud. She tried to stay silent, in the hopes that if she did. she'd have some leeway to say that she'd hadn't been entirely complicit in this thing between them. But Lucias was determined to leave her pride as tattered as her clothes.
He pressed down into her, his hard, aroused length slotting itself between her legs, right were she needed him. She couldn't stop the whimper-moan that escaped her as her body undulated beneath him, desperate for friction.
Merlin, he was huge! Hermione's eyes widened as Lucias rocked into her warmth.
She'd seen men's penises on the internet, she'd been twelve at the time and desperately curious. But she'd never seen one in person. The closest she'd ever come to a penis was when Ron had ground his into her rather painfully and it hadn't been nearly as large as Lucias was.
She was bursting with curiosity now and a desperate need to have this man inside her.
Dearheater, charlatan, murderer, brute. He was all those things and more, why then did she want him so fiercely?
Without conscious thought her hands dropped to his trousers and he pulled back to watch her face.
She fumbled with the belt Lucias chuckled as he pushed her hands away and did it himself.
His cock bounced free and Hermione stared in awe at its perfect pale length. Its tip was swollen and fluid leaked from the small slit at the top of the bell shaped head.
Lucias gasped his own cock and dragged it through the folds of her pussy. Hermione arched upwards and cried out at such intimate contact.
He growled at the silky sensation and then he lifted her onto his lap as if she weighed nothing at all. She wondered at his strength to lift her so effortlessly.
Their magic swirled around them visibly, gossamer threads of green and red intertwined around them, urging them on.
Hermione forgot she was meant to hate this man, she only wanted to taste and touch him. There was nothing except this need.
She was completely naked, braced on her knees above him, while his cock tracing a path of fire through her slick folds and then Lucias held her hips and impaled her on his cock in one swift thrust.
Hermione cried out, head thrown backwards as a throb of kinetic energy surged through her entire body at his sudden intrusion. Their joining was life altering.
She tore at his shirt, past reason, past fear. Nothing had ever felt this right. His chest and abdomen were well defined muscle, littered with scars and she raked her short nails across its expanse demanding more. Her impassioned fingers laced through his hair, holding him to her as his ravenous lips found her breasts, suckling and laving her pebbled nipples with attention.
He guided her, his large hands beneath her buttocks as she rocked and bounced on his cock to find the exact angle which hit the spot deep inside her which made her see stars.
They moved together, their bodies writhing and sweaty. Hermione knew she was going to shatter as everything inside her contracted in delirious pleasure. Finally.
She kissed Lucias as her body began to flutter and then pulse around him. He groaned, animalistic and deep as she suckled on his tongue while her sweet cunt milked him spasmodically.
Their magic was interwoven, wrapped around them. As Hermione's pulsing body shoved Lucias off the edge of the cliff and he came hard, his seed spurting deep into the tiny witch in his arms, there was a sonic boom of magical energy which engulfed them. Their pleasure intensified, prolonging their climax. It went on and on…ebbing and flowing into delirium. Their magic fed off the other, building and growing into something more.
After what seemed like hours, darkness hit them and they slumped, still joined together onto the floor.
.
.
.
Lucias Malfoy couldn't shake the feeling that he was irreparably damaged by his encounter with the little mudblood, Granger. Perhaps that was why they warned purebloods away from having anything to do with their less pure counterparts.
Deep down inside Lucias knew that there had been dark magic at play between them.
There was something strange about that day and how their coupling had been so all consuming. Waking up hours after having mind-blowing sex and repeated orgasms, cold naked and alone, for the witch had been nowhere to be seen, was not the usual for him despite years of diverse and varied sex with many people.
It had been a week since his lapse of judgment and he was on an assignment for his Dark Lord. All the while walking a tightrope of uncertainty lest his defection to the order become apparent and he loose his life in a most painful and gruesome manner.
Voldemort was nothing if not creative in the torture of those who betrayed him, sometimes drawing their death out for weeks. He would bring in a healer to repair the damage from the torture and then begin all over again. It was grisly to watch and more often than not, participate in. Lucias was no stranger to torture, both giving and receiving it. He had long since become desensitized to pain, his own and most definitely in others.
Which is why it was so completely at odds that he couldn't stop thinking about the little mudblood. He had to resort to using occlumency to get his head in the game.
Terrorising and torturing while not betraying himself required a focus he wasn't capable of when thoughts of the tiny witch's warm, tight body repeatedly stole his attention.
Granger fascinated him and that in itself was dangerous.
.
.
.
Mission complete, Lucias apparated to Riddle Manor, in the quiet village of Little Hangleton. It was a dark and gruesome place after falling into disrepair and then being used as the lair of the darkest wizard of all time.
The floors were slimy with the remnants of Nagini's meals. Putrid blood and snake skin everywhere. Lucias's lip curled in disgust.
"Ah, Malfoy, my most trusted servant. Come!" The Dark Lord hissed, his voice becoming more serpentine with each passing day. He sat on an ornate, throne-like chair on a raised dais, reminiscent of how the Kings of old used to receive guests. There was a chair beside him which was reserved for Malfoy himself. The Dark Lord was surrounded by serpent's of all sizes, all of which were dwarfed by Nagini.
Lucias did not remove his death eater mask or robes, he simply walked to Voldemort's side.
"We have had luck! Look what Bella brought for us - freshly caught by the snatchers!" Voldemort moved aside to reveal a sight which stopped Lucias's heart. Never had he been more grateful for his gift as a natural occlumens as well as the mask which adorned his face.
For there on the floor made putrid by Nagini's numerous kills, lay Granger. She had obviously been hit with a petrificus Totalus. Her face was dirty and her wild curls were braided tightly around her head.
Bellatrix cackled maniacally as she hit Granger with the cruciatus, for what seemed like not the first time.
It was brutal when done while the victim was immobile. Left unable to react naturally the victim was locked in a prison of agony which became exacerbated when finally released from the freezing spell.
Lucias did not react. His occlumency walls slammed into place and he stood there in his usual languid, relaxed pose.
"It's amusing is it not?" Bellatrix chortled. "Potter's best friend lying in what's left of Nagini's meal, just like the filth she is?"
"Indeed." Lucius drawled nonchalantly while his brain worked rapidly.
He was dead - and so was Granger. Once Voldemort tore into her mind with his vicious brand of legilimency, he would find their torrid sexual encounter as well as the fact that Lucias was a spy for the Order.
He couldn't think of any way to prevent it without revealing his alliances.
Just then the Dark Lord decided to lift the petrificus Totalus and Hermione Granger screamed as her body arched so violently Lucias feared her spine might snap. Her body twitched and rolled, her limbs moving spasmodically like a macabre puppet while she screamed again and again. Tears raced down her face and the death eaters standing around them laughed.
"Your turn, Malfoy." The Dark Lord nodded towards the prone body.
Lucias paused, his natural cunning coming to the rescue. "I have a better idea, my Lord."