A/N Sorry it's taken me a while to update. I've been working on my nano project and keeping the baby alive. Thank you all for reviewing and following and favouriting and leaving me reviews on my other stories too - it's not only spurred me on to work on this story, but it's really encouraged me to keep going with my original fic; even though the poor couple appear to have been stuck on a train for about three weeks now...
The reception passes in something of a blur. She is only grateful to her friends. Tasked with spreading the word regarding her possible change of groom prior to the ceremony they have run damage interference amongst many of her acquaintances. Hermione is particularly grateful to Ginny who has more reason to hate Lucius than anyone. She has remained stalwart in her support of Hermione. They both know that explanations will be required at some point in the future, but for now, Ginny is prepared to wait.
Having already suffered the shock of Hermione announcing an engagement to Draco 'ferret' Malfoy many of her acquaintance don't seem that surprised that she has decided to marry Lucius instead. Hermione wonders if their acceptance of her decision is indicative of an already long established belief that her mental health is suffering.
The contingent of the great and good of the wizarding world seem unconcerned. Perhaps they hadn't even realised she was supposed to be marrying Draco in the first place. Most of the revellers are happily swigging champagne and seem not to give a fig that Hermione has just signed her life away to a man she had previously considered her enemy. Even their lengthy sojourn in the gazebo garners less interest than Hermione might have expected. To those who know her well the idea that she might have been engaged in anything remotely improper is so highly unlikely that they don't even stop to consider it. Those who know her less well are polite enough (or afraid enough of Lucius) to keep their thoughts to themselves. Only Ginny and Draco give any hint that they might suspect the impropriety of her actions, and they are both kind enough not to embarrass her…in public anyway.
Lucius remains beside her at all times, her hand still firmly clasped in his. He is a skilled social animal. Hermione feels a stab of jealousy as he confidently negotiates the shark-infested waters of their wedding reception. His urbane smile remains fixed in place as he vomits platitudes in response to every offer of congratulations or question from their guests.
He handles the reporters with aplomb. Of course, Hermione had been engaged to his son. It had never been his intention to steal his son's bride but they were simply the victims of a passion they could not control. In the end, Draco had been willing to step aside in the face of true love. Hermione can only attempt to keep the incredulous look off her face.
"Is that true?" Hermione asks when they are granted a brief moment of peace as they wait for the photographer to set up.
"Is what true?"
"Was Draco happy to step aside? I can't help but notice his face."
Lucius smirks, but his fingers trace the glamoured area of his own jaw. Hermione raises an eyebrow.
"Draco's objection was not over the loss of his fiancée." He sighs and his smile slips for the first time since they said their vows. "Perhaps I did not go about persuading him to relinquish you in quite the best way."
"Perhaps not." Hermione bites her lip and looks away from him. She is reminded that she barely knows this man. It's not just his past as a Death Eater that she has to contend with. She knows almost nothing of his personality, his likes, and dislikes, whether he snores… She sucks in a deep calming breath.
Lucius is looking down at her. His smirk is back in place, but there is a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Regrets, Miss Granger?"
She shakes her head slowly. "Not exactly. It's just… don't you think this is crazy?"
"What is crazy?"
"That we're married. We don't know each other Lucius. I don't even know what your favourite food is."
"It's toast."
"Toast?" Momentarily distracted her jaw drops a little. She would have expected him to say caviar or oysters or foie gras.
"It's such a versatile food, don't you think?"
"Erm, yes, I suppose...I like toast too." She shakes her head vigorously. The conversation is not about toast. "That's beside the point."
He takes her chin in his fingers. "You are thinking too much," he tells her firmly. "We shall get to know one and other. If we like each other, then fine. If not we will stay out of each other's way as much as possible. Believe me; the manor is quite big enough for us to lead entirely separate lives." There is a hint of bitterness in his cultured voice.
"What about the debauched nights?" Hermione can't help but ask.
Lucius smiles. "I hope that they will occur whether we like each other or not."
"I think it might be hard to have mind-blowing sex with someone I don't like."
"You didn't like me four hours ago."
She is about to concede the point when Narcissa arrives at her right elbow. For the first time during the reception, Lucius melts away leaving Hermione all alone with his ex-wife. Who is also, unfortunately, the mother of her jilted fiancée.
"Hermione, congratulations." Narcissa places a kiss in the air three inches to the left of Hermione's cheek.
"Thank you." She decides to take the bull by the horns. "Narcissa, I'm so sorry."
"Whatever for, my dear?"
"For everything...this…" she gestures vaguely into the space which Lucius had occupied until a few moments ago.
"Oh think nothing of it." Narcissa takes a sip of champagne. She fixes Hermione with her beautiful blue eyes. "What on earth made you decide to marry Lucius?"
The blush is unavoidable and she absolutely cannot look at Narcissa. "Primae Noctis," she admits.
Both of Narcissa's beautifully shaped eyebrows climb her forehead so they almost mingle with her elegantly coiffured hair.
"Primae Noctis," she repeats softly. She gives a slightly sad smile. "I'm glad your experience was better than mine. I had no idea Lucius had it in him."
"I don't think he did either." The response escapes Hermione before she can censor herself. To her relief, Narcissa lets out a tinkling, bell-like laugh.
"I like you," she says. "I believe you will do well with Lucius. He and I had nothing in common, you know and what happened with his father…" her voice tails off and she takes a large gulp of champagne. "Let's just say it wasn't the best start to a marriage. I'm truly happy for you both."
"Thank you."
"It is I who should be thanking you." Narcissa looks around the ballroom with a look of immense satisfaction. "This last year has been the happiest of my life. I've thoroughly enjoyed organising your wedding and now I will get to do it all over again when Draco finds somebody else to marry!"
Narcissa excuses herself and Hermione is left smiling at Draco's mother's unexpected pragmatism. Still, something about Narcissa's words make her uneasy. She can't quite put her finger on it though and the thought is ousted from her brain by the return of Lucius.
"Are you alright?" His arm snakes around her waist and she is surprised how right it feels to be held by him.
"I'm fine, no thanks to you." She digs her elbow into his ribs. "I can't believe you ran away like a frightened mouse as soon as your ex-wife appeared."
"I had to have a word with the Minister of magic." Lucius avoids her eye.
"Really?" Hermione's voice drips with disbelief.
"Really." He gives an infinitesimal shrug. "I will admit I was not particularly keen to feel the sharp edge of Narcissa's tongue on this happy occasion."
"She was quite charming."
"I'm surprised. I would have expected her to accuse me of deliberately ruining her day."
"Quite the opposite. She's looking forward to doing it all again when Draco finds himself a new fiancée." Again the uneasy feeling rears its head. She ignores it. "And technically, I think it's supposed to be my day."
Lucius throws back his head and laughs. Hermione, unprepared for the assault of his good dentition and sparkling eyes is quite overwhelmed. Her stomach turns over uncomfortably. It could be that Lucius Malfoy is just too much for her to handle.
"I can't remember the last time I laughed as much as I have today." Lucius' countenance grows more serious and his tone more intimate. "What have you done to me?"
Hermione is saved from stuttering an answer by the sounding of a gong to indicate that the wedding breakfast is served.
The seating plan had required a serious rejig on Lucius' side. Narcissa's planners clearly felt that the ex-wife should not sit next to the groom and, as a consequence, Narcissa had graciously vacated the top table. Draco takes the place to Lucius' right and Harry sits on Hermione's left.
"What happened to Draco's eye?" he asks her sotto voice.
"Lucius."
"Seriously?" Harry looks a little scandalised.
"I wouldn't feel too sorry for him; look at Lucius' jaw, left side."
Harry squints at Lucius as unobtrusively as possible. Eventually, he turns to Hermione and purses his lips nodding thoughtfully. "I would have thought that someone as vain as Lucius would have been better at glamours."
They both giggle at this which causes Lucius to look suspiciously in their direction.
"Something you wish to share, my dear?"
"No." Hermione forces herself to stop laughing. She feels rather chastised as if she and Harry are a pair of toddlers who have accidentally stumbled up to the dinner table.
The food is delicious all nine courses of it. Hermione is secretly grateful to Narcissa for her extensive lessons in the use of the appropriate table wear. She notices Harry surreptitiously following her lead. Over at the Weasley table, George is purposefully eating his roast duck with his dessert spoon to the hilarity of Ron and Charlie.
The meal passes quickly and they are all too occupied with eating to engage in much conversation. Ginny, sat next to Harry is uncharacteristically quiet but she smiles over at Hermione whenever their eyes meet. Hermione is profoundly grateful that wizarding weddings do not follow the Muggle tradition of after-dinner speeches. Lucius would probably be able to come up with something appropriate on the hoof, but she dreads to think what Harry would say and she imagines that Draco's best man speech would be rather fruity.
Her relief is short lived though as the meal is cleared and toasts are drunk and all of a sudden Lucius is whispering in her ear that it is time for the first dance.
For her entire life, Hermine has harboured a deep and dark secret. In the months leading up to her wedding, it had kept her awake at night. She had appeared at work with dark shadows beneath her eyes and had snapped grumpily at all and sundry. Draco had noticed the change in her demeanour and eventually called her up on it. With tears in her eyes, she had finally confessed something she had never admitted to a living soul before.
"I can't dance, Draco, not a step."
Draco had looked at her with the superiority of someone who took ballroom dancing lessons shortly after learning to walk. "I'll teach you then, Granger, it's not that hard."
"You don't understand." Hermione dashed a tear from her cheek. "It took me an entire term to learn one dance for the Yule Ball. My grades slipped terribly because I spent all my time practicing. Even then, Viktor had to lead me and I stood on his foot so badly he said he might never play Quidditch again."
Draco had laughed, rather a lot. But he had also taken it upon himself to teach her to dance. As Hermione had predicted it had not been plain sailing. By the day of the wedding, they had agreed that Hermione ought to be able to make it through the wedding waltz. Provided Draco maintained an inappropriately close hold on her and counted loudly in her ear the entire time. Hermione had been just about reconciled to this plan, but now she realises that it is defunct, because she will not be dancing with Draco.
She looks up at Lucius with huge, worried eyes.
"What's the matter?" He solicitously offers her his arm to escort her onto the dance floor.
"Nothing I—" she takes his arm and leans close enough to smell his cologne. She indulges in one small sniff. It's strangely calming.
"You what?" Lucius pulls her into his arms his large hand splaying over her back.
Hermione edges a little closer. Lucius pulls back a little.
"Lucius, I can't dance!" Hermione steps back into his space again.
"Evidently so, you are standing much too close to me, it's inappropriate."
She almost rolls her eyes. So much for his becoming acquainted with his base nature. "I need to stand this close." She is standing so near that she can speak directly into his ear. "You basically have to drag me around the floor."
Lucius frowns, but she can see the corner of his mouth tilting up in amusement. At least she hopes it's amusement.
"It is most irregular...the guests will think we are…" he tails off.
"Shagging?" Hermione asks helpfully.
"Miss Granger!"
"Sorry, sorry. I'm nervous. You're worried the guests will think we are already on intimate terms?"
He stiffens. "Yes."
"Well we are, aren't we?"
"Yes, but that's a private matter."
"Well it wasn't very private when we were in the gazebo and you—"
"Hush." He is properly blushing now. "I admit I may have allowed myself to become a little carried away, but we were at least concealed from view by the gazebo walls. Here we are the centre of attention."
Hermione glances around them. He is quite right, everybody is watching them.
"Sorry, it's either this or I break your foot."
"Very well." He pulls her even closer. Her breasts are now trapped against his chest.
"There's something else." It's rather hard for her to speak. She is breathless from Lucius' grip and her nose is squashed against his shoulder.
"Yes?" His tone is long-suffering.
"I need you to count."
The orchestra beings to play.
"Count?" Lucius leads her into the dance. She stands on his foot and he yelps.
"Yes, count, please Lucius." She stands on him again and he immediately begins to count a look of pained disapproval on his face.
The dance doesn't go too badly after that. Hermione is almost able to enjoy the feeling of being pressed against Lucius, their thighs rubbing against each other as he guides her through the steps.
"All this counting makes it rather difficult to indulge in seductive small talk."
"Stop talking," she hisses as she tries to take over the counting in her own head.
"How am I supposed to woo you on the dance floor if I'm not allowed to say anything other than one, two, three, one, two, three?"
"I think we're already past the wooing stage." She stumbles into him.
"You really are terrible at this aren't you?"
"Yes. And remarking on my lack of dancing skills hardly counts as wooing. Could you please start counting again."
Much to her relief he says nothing more and counts doggedly through the rest of the dance.
It is probably the least disastrous dance Hermione has ever performed in public. Draco gives her a subtle thumbs up from across the dance floor. Lucius, however, looks stern.
"We will need to engage in a lot more practice if you are not going to embarrass me in public," he states. "Dancing is one of the core skills of a pureblood wife."
"Well it's lucky I'm not a pureblood wife then isn't it?" The music is ending and Hermione tries to pull away from him.
"I didn't say I would object to being your instructor." Lucius maintains his hold although he has released her hand and places his free hand on her waist. "And I rather enjoy your take on the ballroom hold."
"Okay." She breathes in again. Why does he have to smell so good? She makes a note to stay out of sniffing range during future disagreements.
"How are you going to avoid dancing for the rest of the reception?" He has gently moved her off the dance floor and the orchestra has already begun to play again. Several guests are looking in her direction and Hermione stifles a groan.
"Maybe you could just hold on to me and look intimidating. Then nobody else will be brave enough to ask me?"
Lucius lets out a bark of laughter. "I'm afraid that would be very bad form. Ah look, here comes Potter, I assume he is aware of your limitations?"
"No," —Hermione smiles over at Harry— "but he is an even worse dancer than me he won't notice how bad I am.
Lucius laughs and releases her. "I believe I should dance with Mrs. Potter. I see the two of you are good friends. It would make your life easier if I cleared the air with her, would it not?"
"It would." Hermione is incredulous. "Thank you," she adds belatedly as Lucius sweeps off in search of an unsuspecting Ginny.
The dancing is interminable. She dances with Mr. Weasley who is full of fatherly concern and motherly advice. She dances with Ron who looks at her like a kicked puppy and reiterates once again that he would have happily married her and saved her the horror of being tied to an abomination such as Lucius. She dances with Draco who seems extremely pleased with himself despite the fact that he has been jilted. She dances with Professor Flitwick which makes her back ache and Hagrid which makes her neck hurt. She dances with Neville who she prevails upon to count thus avoiding the awkward topic of why on earth she has chosen to marry Lucius Malfoy. She dances with George who tries to put some sort of itching potion down her dress and asks her several times what took so long with the signing of register. She dances twice more with her husband pressed so tightly against his body that she can hardly breathe, and she wonders whether it is really the pressure he is exerting that is making her so breathless or simply the man himself.
At around 10pm Draco comes to find her. He is hand in hand with a small blond woman with a rosebud mouth and round blue eyes which remind Hermione of a china doll. In his free hand he carries a dirt stained gardening glove.
"Granger, you remember Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's sister?"
"Of course." Hermione scrabbles vaguely for a memory of the girl before her.
"It's alright." Astoria's smile lights up her entire face rendering her even more offensively pretty than she had been before. "I wasn't very memorable in school. It's nice to meet you." She offers a surprisingly firm handshake.
"So, Astoria and I were thinking we might go on the honeymoon." Astoria gives him a shocked look.
"Don't implicate me in all this, Draco Malfoy. The honeymoon was entirely your idea."
Draco grins. "It's true, I admit." He turns back to Hermione whilst keeping Astoria's hand firmly in his. "Astoria's been away in Brazil for the last two years. We're very keen to become reacquainted and surely a two week honeymoon in Barbados is the best way to do that."
Hermione can only admire his audacity. The two week honeymoon in a luxury wizarding resort was a gift from Harry and Ginny. If anyone should be going it should be her…and Lucius. The thought of Lucius Malfoy reclining on a beach in the Caribbean is quite fantastical and utterly horrifying. She nods in response to Draco's question whilst still failing to wipe the thought of Lucius in a pair of board shorts from her mind.
"Of course, you should go." She smiles at Astoria. "Both of you, really it's the least I can do."
"Thanks Granger." Draco gives her an enthusiastic hug.
"Thank you." Astoria smiles warmly. "And thanks for deciding not to marry him!" She tucks herself in beside Draco one hand clutching possessively around his upper arm.
"You're welcome." She watches as Draco touches his wand to the glove and the two of them disappear.
"Where did Draco go?" Lucius appears beside her.
"On the honeymoon."
Lucius attempts to look disapproving, but there is a definite twinkle in his eye. "That boy is incorrigible," he says, half to himself. Then to Hermione, "Do you mind?"
"What? Not going on the honeymoon? No, it would seem a little odd wouldn't it?"
"I suppose." Lucius runs his eyes over her rather like a racing enthusiast sizing up a new horse. "I should like to see you in your Muggle swimwear though."
"Lucius!" She clutches her flaming cheeks and looks around frantically hoping that they have not been overheard.
After another hour of dancing during which time Hermione's feet become very sore and her temper very short Lucius liberates Hermione from the clutches of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"My apologies, Minister, but I believe it's time for my wife and I to make our exit." They slip away quietly leaving Narcissa's team of organisers and the woman herself in charge of what now appears to be a raucous party.
They are both silent as Lucius leads her back across the lawn and into the Manor. The building is quiet and dark. As soon as she crosses the threshold Hermione slips off her stilettos and gives a sigh of pleasure as the cool marble floor soothes her aching feet. She glances uncertainly up at Lucius, suddenly wondering if doing something so gauche as standing barefoot in the entrance hall is a terrible error in pureblood etiquette. His expression is indulgent though and he stoops to pick up her shoes in one hand. He offers her the opposite arm and leads her through the quiet house. By the time they reach the top of the stairs Hermione is so tired she is sagging against him.
They move down a passageway Hermione hasn't seen before heading into what she thinks is the West wing of the house. Numerous blond witches and wizards peek out at her from the portraits that line the wall and there is a great deal of muttering and murmuring, although she can't make out exactly what they are seeing. It is probably nothing good.
Eventually they enter a room which she can only surmise belongs to Lucius. She fails to hide her start of surprise as she takes in his bedroom.
"What did you expect?" Lucius asks wryly. "Green silk drapes and effigies of snakes on every surface?"
"Pretty much." Hermione steps further into the room. To her right is an enormous bed dressed entirely in crisp white cotton. The book on the bedside table and a folded pair of reading glasses the only indication that the room is occupied at all. "Where are all the dark artefacts and implements of torture?"
"I had the elves hide them all before you arrived. Speaking of which"—he indicates in the direction of the comfortable seating area at the other end of the room—they have moved your belongings too."
Hermione looks over at the small pile of suitcases. All her worldly goods look rather pitiful in this environment.
"Where are my books?" The carefully labelled boxes are missing and she tries to hide the panic in her voice.
"I believe they have been taken to the library." Lucius looks down at her. "As you can see I keep a few of my favourite volumes to hand." He gestures to a large bookcase against one wall. "I should be happy to create some space in order for you to do the same."
"Thank you." It's an indication of how tired she is that she doesn't immediately start examining the titles of Lucius' private collection, or demand to see the library.
She turns to look once more at the bed. "So this is where all the nocturnal debauchery is going to take place."
"Yes." Lucius does not sound nearly as lascivious as he had when he was pressing his suit. She studies him carefully. He looks tired too. There is just a hint of a shadow under his eyes and his platinum hair is slightly less pristine than usual.
"Would you like a drink?" Lucius moves across to a low table beside the fireplace on which sits a crystal decanter and two glasses.
"No thank you." Hermione feels a little drunk and at the same time slightly hungover. It's not a pleasant sensation. She watches as Lucius pours himself a measure of the brandy. His hands are shaking slightly and he fumbles as he tries to replace the stopper. He sets the glass down untouched and leans forward bracing his hands against the low table.
"Is something wrong?" Hermione sinks down onto a low sofa opposite her husband.
"No." But he doesn't turn to look at her.
"Oh, right." Hermione wriggles her toes in the thick pile of the carpet. Things have really gone beyond her sphere of emotional reference. She doesn't know how to deal with a suddenly withdrawn husband on one's wedding night and it's not as if she can pop off to the library to look up a textbook. Instead, she cautiously approaches him and places a hand on his shoulder. He flinches at her touch and she quickly takes her hand away.
"I'm sorry." She retreats a little.
"You have nothing to apologise for." He turns to face her and rubs a hand across his eyes. "If I am being honest I must confess to feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Today's events have rather taken me by surprise."
Hermione struggles to process this new information. Lucius has never struck her as a person capable of being overwhelmed at all. She is rather shocked by his admission as if the tectonic plates have shifted beneath her whilst she is busy doing something else and she has returned home to find the world permanently altered. Apparently unaware of her inner turmoil Lucius continues to speak.
"I woke up this morning expecting only to be relieved of my virginity in the most humiliating and mutually unpleasant way imaginable. Had I hazarded a guess I would have expected to be back in this room several hours ago feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I find myself married to a woman half my age who expects to be thoroughly debauched when all I can think about is how absolutely exhausted I am."
Hermione stares at him. She is rather touched by his admission. Who would have guessed that Lucius was a flesh and blood male capable of feeling anything, let alone exhaustion?
"It's ok." She steps toward him again. "I'm too tired too. Also, my feet hurt and my head aches from wearing my hair up for so long and my dress is rubbing under the arms." She turns her back. "Would you mind helping me out of it?"
After a moment she feels him begin to undo the row of buttons down her spine. She wonders why he doesn't use magic but enjoys the gradual release as the heavy dress begins to sag. She steps out of it with no grace and a sigh of relief. To her surprise, she feels his hands in her hair before she can move away. He gently removes pin after pin sending them floating towards the heavy oak dressing table in the bedroom as he does so. When they are all out he unwinds her hair stabbing his fingers through the tangled mass and rubbing them against her scalp. She lets out a groan of pleasure.
"Thank you."
"It's my pleasure." A brief pause. "I draw the line at your feet."
She laughs. "I can rub my own feet. Can we maybe go to bed now?"
They make their preparations in comfortable silence. Lucius disappears into the bathroom and reappears wearing a pair of navy flannel Pyjamas. Hermione stifles a giggle; she hasn't ever seen Lucius look his age before. She has taken advantage of his absence to change out of her bridal underwear and into her own tartan pyjamas which, after some consideration, she realises are eerily similar in style to his.
Lucius sits down at in front of the dressing table and reaches behind him to expertly braid his long hair. After a moment's hesitation Hermione sits next to him and does the same. He doesn't speak but glances across at her a slight smile on his lips.
"Which side of the bed do you prefer?" he asks politely.
Hermione shrugs. This may the most surreal conversation she has ever had. "I don't know. I've never shared a bed before. I have a horrible feeling I'll find myself in the middle of it whichever side I'm allocated."
"I have the same concern." Lucius stands and surveys the bed cautiously. "Very well, I shall take the side nearest the door, the better to protect you from intruders."
"Are you expecting any intruders?" Hermione moves around the bed.
"I very much hope not, but one never knows." Lucius climbs into bed and lies down on his back looking rather uncomfortable. Hermione does the same and pulls the covers up to just beneath her chin.
"Well, goodnight then," she says awkwardly.
"Goodnight. Nox."
And in the most bizarre turn of events, since Professor McGonagall turned up with her Hogwarts letter and told her she was a witch, Hermione finds herself lying in the dark next to Lucius Malfoy.
She stares blindly up at the ceiling for several minutes. Despite the luxurious comforter (she wonders if it is stuffed with peacock feathers) and the warmth of the manor she feels chilled and uncomfortable. This is ridiculous, she thinks. She doesn't even sleep on her back. She wants to flip over onto her front, but she's too afraid of disturbing Lucius. Although, judging by his breathing he's not asleep either.
"Lucius?"
"Yes."
"Are you still awake?"
"Apparently so." He sounds resigned.
In the dark Hermione hesitates. "Do you regret this?"
"What?"
"Marrying me." She wants to gesticulate but she is still clutching the covers in a maidenly fashion.
"Of course not."
She feels the bed dip next to her and a blast of cold air briefly invades the pocket of warmth she had created before Lucius pulls her rather ineptly into the circle of his arms. They are spooning now with her back pressed against his front. He is gloriously warm and Hermione wriggles a little trying to appropriate more of his body heat.
"Oh." The hardness against her backside is difficult to ignore.
"Ignore it, please." There is a thread of embarrassment in Lucius' voice. "It doesn't know when it's not welcome."
Hermione sniggers. "I'm sorry; it really isn't welcome right now. I'm a bit sore." It's much easier, to be honest in the dark without those grey eyes burning into her.
"I'm sorry." Lucius' hand rests gently on her hip. "You should have told me...if I'd known…"
"You'd have what? Kissed it better? Don't worry, Lucius its part of becoming a woman." She would have made inverted commas with her fingers if she hadn't been trying to preserve as much heat as possible beneath the covers.
"I would have asked the family healer who was one of the wedding guests for a potion." His matter of fact answer makes her feel rather foolish and she doesn't respond.
Lucius' erection throbs against her buttocks and he lets out a sigh of impatience.
"Do you want me to do something about it?" Hermione offers rather half-heartedly.
"What sort of something?" Lucius sounds interested in spite of himself.
"Well, I could use my hands or my mouth. I have no experience of the former and not much the latter, but I could give it a go. Or you could do it yourself and come on my belly and breasts, some men like that."
"Miss Granger!"
"Sorry, I'm too tired to be delicate." She lets out an almighty yawn. "You know when you want to use that scandalised tone you'll have to start saying Mrs. Malfoy or I won't know who you're talking to."
"Mrs. Malfoy." He turns the words over in his mouth. "How do you know all these things, Mrs. Malfoy?"
"Books mainly. Even Hermione Granger can't be all work and no play. I started stealing my grandmother's romance novels when I was about thirteen. The boys always made fun of me for having my nose stuck in a book. Half the time I was actually reading about innocent virgins having their virtue stolen by dastardly older men."
Lucius snorted. "I hope you don't include yourself in such a category. I'm beginning to think that you robbed me of my virtue rather than the opposite." He eases himself closer still. "Thank you for the kind offer, but I shall wait until the morning when we are both rejuvenated. I look forward to hearing more about your grandmother's collection of books."
Hermione smiles.
"I believe this marriage may prove to be mutually satisfying on many levels," Lucius adds.
"I hope so." Hermione pats his arm and relaxes against him as she finally feels sleep begin to claim her.
At 3:37 am Hermione Malfoy wakes from a deep sleep and sits bolt upright unintentionally yanking the covers off of her new husband who startles awake swearing and reaching for his wand.
"Holy fuck," she yells. "If Draco marries Astoria you'll have to shag her too!"
A/N I know, I know. I wrote the longest wedding scene ever and Lucius even got an erection, but no wedding night sex happened. They just weren't feeling it. Don't worry though they will make up for things in the epilogue.
