A/N. So, let me make something clear. Lucius is not what one would classify as a "good man" - but in my experience, we as humans rarely are attracted to things that are "good" for us. It sometimes takes years for us to abandon the thirst for adventure and rebellion.
I've realized something. I have put Hermione with Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, and even Bill Weasley. When am I going to pair her with someone actually her age?
Jail bate.
...~oOo~...
Chapter Seven: The Thief
One of his hands gripped the headboard while the other cradled the back of her neck. He was gloriously naked and had a body that once again reminded Hermione of Greek heroes that statues were modeled after.
Her thighs squeezed his hips while she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, but found herself panting. It was... exquisite. The rhythmic movement of Lucius's hips was hypnotizing and coaxed soft moans from her throat. He was whispering to her, his voice raspy and raw, his thumb stroking the underneath of her jaw.
One of her hands was curled into his hair, the other clutching his hard, muscled shoulder. Her square nails dug into the skin there.
Feeling completely possessed, she leaned upward and ran her mouth across his chest, causing him to shudder. Then her mouth trailed up to his throat and his hips slowed, making Hermione whine. Lifting her hips, silently begging him to continue, she wasn't prepared for Lucius's mouth to swoop down onto hers. His tongue commandeered hers and she tightened her hold in his soft blonde hair.
...
Rustling from her sleep, Hermione felt suspiciously sweaty. The dream was so vivid, it was almost like it was...
What was that smell? It wasn't her shampoo, the smell she usually woke up to from her hair strangling her, but... it was a very heavy, musky, smoky smell. Then she breathed inward and tasted it on her tongue. Hermione's eyes flickered open to find the window of her bedroom open, revealing a beautiful sunrise, and a stark naked man standing at her dresser.
Then it all came back in a flood of visions. It hadn't been a dream at all. She'd slept with Lucius Malfoy.
And now he was smoking a cigarette and...
"Are you going through my stuff?" Hermione asked groggily, sitting up and squinting her eyes at him.
Lucius turned around, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Good morning," he said, ignoring her question. Then he held up a book, his eyebrow raised. "Where'd you get this naughty little text?"
Hermione groaned and fell back into her pillow. The Kama Sutra. Of course Lucius Malfoy would go through her knickers drawer. Why hadn't she anticipated this?Hermione yanked up her sheet around her chest and fashioned it into a bad toga.
"You know, it isn't polite to go through other people's things... or to smoke in their room," Hermione said, waving her hand at the fogginess the tobacco left behind.
Lucius shrugged, unashamedly naked. "You don't have a lot of pretty underthings."
"No, I do not," Hermione admitted, standing from her bed and going through her bedside to find a hair tie. She was hoping to mangle her hair into some sort of conformity.
Lucius was staring at her curiously. "You've without a doubt the most impressive sex hair I've seen on a woman," he told her, taking a long dragging and blowing the smoke back out through his nose.
"And how about on a man?" Hermione said, unable to help herself.
"Careful, Hermione, your sense of humor is showing," Lucius said with a smirk. He watched her some more and it was becoming disconcerting.
Slowly nudging past him, grabbing a pair of knickers and a bra from the drawer. Before she pulled away, she plucked the Kama Sutra from his hand and stuffed it back into the drawer where it belonged.
"Just so you know, I dog-eared my favorite pages," Lucius said.
"Good to know," Hermione replied, hopping on one foot while she struggled her way into the panties. She slid them up under the toga, but before she could get them totally up, Lucius reached out and yanked on the fabric of the sheet.
Hermione's toga fell and Lucius smiled. She hurried the panties up her legs and then crossed her arms over her breasts, glaring at him.
"I've seen it all, there's no need to be so shy," Lucius said, a hungry look in his eyes as he scanned the span of her skin.
"Yes, well, unlike you I'm not accustomed to waltzing around in my birthday suit," she said, waving vaguely at his whole body. She was keeping her eyes determinedly locked with his. She was the master of eye-contact. She wouldn't look down unless she told herself to.
Mind over matter, she reminded herself.
"Shhhh..." Lucius murmured, pressing a finger to her lips.
"Don't you 'shush' me!"
"Shhh..."
Hermione listened, trying to figure out what he was hearing to make him shush her, when Lucius gave her a soft, sensual kiss. When he pulled away and Hermione rose and eyebrow, he smirked.
"I liked your voice less when you're complaining and more when its screaming my name," he said.
"I have half a mind to -"
He kissed her again, hands gripping her hips and slowly pushing her back onto the bed. Hermione's fingers and toes began to tingle as he thoroughly kissed her, his thumbs rubbing circles on her skin as his hands slowly dipped lower. Hermione shivered.
And then saw out of the corner of her eye the calendar.
It was Monday.
"I've got to go!" Hermione said, pulling her panties back up to where thy belong and brushing away his wandering hands. "Draco is probably waking up as we speak."
Lucius frowned, but it looked suspiciously like a pout. The resemblance between Lucius and a grumpy baby Draco was suddenly very apparent. Hermione had to stop herself from laughing as she quickly slid into trousers and a sweater.
"This is very disappointing," Lucius sighed.
"I do have a job to do, you know."
"Cold shower, here I come."
"I don't feel bad," Hermione told him, knowing he was fishing for guilt.
"I know you don't, which only makes it worse. Your total disinterest in me isn't doing anything to calm my arousal, strangely enough."
"I'm going now," she warned him.
"Leave me," he said dramatically. "You obviously don't care. I will undoubtedly be experiencing a pain women know not in only a few moments."
Leave it to Lucius Malfoy to make blue-balls sound like a torture device. Shaking her head, Hermione left the room and hurried to Draco's nursery, hoping fervently that she didn't cross Narcissa on the way.
...~oOo~...
All day, Hermione felt... dirty. Like there was a layer of grime coating her skin that she couldn't scrub off no matter how she tried. Especially when Narcissa made her usual noon check-ins. Hermione found herself evading eye-contact and saying the bare minimum, even though - with the information collected from Heather - there was a fair chance Narcissa was already well aware of Hermione's involvement with Lucius.
A fair chance that she was empowered by it, possibly turned on by it, and perfectly okay with it. Which was even more disturbing, in Hermione opinion.
If Hermione was going to be a mistress, she wished she at least had the rights to be secretive and shameful. But, no. She was being forced to be scrutinized by the wife, and forced to have no reason to feel deceitful. There was virtually no lying involved. She was practically doing the sexual part of their marriage a favor.
Then why did Hermione feel so damned awful?
Maybe because it was so incredible... the darker side of her uttered.
Hermione shook that thought off. Even though the experience was Lucius was... very satisfactory... didn't mean she should attach herself. She needed to remain as detached as womanly possible.
Why is everything so easy for men? Hermione demanded from any deity who might be listening. It was like their levels of testosterone made it so simple to separate the physical and the emotional exploits of the world. Lucius certainly didn't blush when Hermione walked in the room - but she certainly did when he entered. Lucius's heart didn't stutter. Hermione's did.
During Draco's nap, Hermione banged her forehead against the edge of the crib.
"Tell me, Draco," Hermione whispered, "what about the Y chromosome makes sex so black and white?"
Draco, thumb hanging out of his mouth, had no answer.
"You're right, this is something I should be asking Heather about," Hermione said, nodding. Hermione pocketed the Baby Stone and went to her room to fetch some parchment.
The Baby Stone was a nifty tool that Hermione thought the Muggles should consider adopting. It was like a baby monitor, except it glowed and heated up when the baby was in need of something. The hotter it was, the louder and more urgent the baby was crying. It's counterpart sat next to the crib, sending the message to the one in Hermione's pocket.
Hermione walked into her bedroom and went to her desk. She went into the drawer where she kept extra rolls of parchment and plenty of ink. But when she opened it... all she saw was the bottom of the drawer. It was empty.
Brow furrowed, Hermione reached her hand in. They were invisible, she thought as she touched the wood. They were simply missing, all of her supplies. She went into her other drawer. It was also empty, her crayons and glue and art supplies for Draco.
What was going on?
A weird feeling crept up her spine. Slowly she walked over to her dresser. It couldn't possibly...
Empty. All of them. Most noticeably, perhaps, the absence of the damned sex book.
"Lucius..." Hermione hissed under her breath once it hit her. That infuriating...! She went around her room. Closet: Empty. Hamper: Barren. Stash of Chocolate: Sadly vacant.
He had completely emptied her room! All of her books and clothing were stolen!
Hermione marched out of her room and down the corridors of Malfoy Manor with purpose. She strode right into Lucius's office without knocking or preamble and said, very loudly as she accosted him at his desk, "If you think stealing my very personal things and invading my privacy is sexy, you're wrong!"
Lucius slowly put down the book his was reading, shut it and put it aside. His feet were up on his desk - which drove Hermione mad - and he was leaning back in his chair. "Well, this is a surprise," Lucius said. He bent his head to look around Hermione. "Severus, isn't this a surprise?"
"I'd say it is," the dark-haired man said from his seat across the room from Lucius.
Hermione slowly turned around to find Severus looking at her distastefully.
She cleared her throat lightly, straightened her shirt and said to Lucius, "I still don't feel bad."
Lucius sipped his bourbon and set it back down on the desk. "Well, that isn't very fair, is it?"
"You took all my things," Hermione said simply. "I would like them back."
"I was expecting you to realize their absence much earlier," Lucius observed.
Then it hit Hermione. She glared at him. "You were trying to lure me out."
"I was," he confirmed. "But now I've got company, my dear."
"Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said boldly, "I care for your son. I cannot play your games all day long, be at your beck and call, when my job is to be with Draco. So I'd appreciate it if you returned everything back to my room and not disturb me during the day."
There was a long pause.
"But nighttime is available, right?" he clarified.
Hermione huffed loudly and spun around, striding towards the door. "I don't know where you're keeping my stuff," she said as she walked quickly, "but it better be back to where it was by dinner tonight, or so help me..." She tried to vocalize a suitable threat, but found her mind completely drawing a blank.
"Or what?" Lucius inquired, sounding amused.
"Or... or... or I'll tell your wife on you!" She stomped out, slammed the door, and grumbled to herself. She realized how immature the last comment had been, but frankly he deserved it. Sober Lucius and Drinking Lucius were two different people. Drinking Lucius was, frankly, very mellow and easily amused, but absolutely infuriating. Sober Lucius was quiet, grumpy, but he kept to himself and usually didn't cause any problems.
She was contemplating changing the locks on his liquor cabinet.
...~oOo~...
He always smelt very... clean. And of mint. Fresh mint leaves, though. When Hermione inhaled, it cleared her senses and when she let go of the breath, it was smooth and cooled her throat. And maybe a little eucalyptus.
"What are you doing?" Lucius inquired. He was currently braced over her on the bed, his mouth pressing slow, lazy kisses to her throat. His mouth had paused just then, though.
"Nothing," Hermione whispered, afraid that she couldn't have any control over her voice if she spoke louder. She could feel the tremor threatening to come forth in her voice. Not because she was afraid. No, she'd gotten over her fear of him days ago. She felt the internal trembling because of the anticipation, the knowledge of pleasure to come.
"Were you... smelling me?" he asked, amusement coloring his tone.
"Perhaps," Hermione hedged. She blushed. That was slightly embarrassing.
"There's no shame in it, of course," he assured his, one of his hands caressing the skin under her breast teasingly. She shivered. "I must admit, I find your scent... intoxicating."
"Soap?" she said with a wry smirk.
He shook his head gently. "Ginger. And... tea. A touch of vanilla." He bent down and took a large breath inward and let it out slow, his eyes falling shut.
These were the moments Hermione allowed herself to enjoy thoroughly. When Lucius was sleepy and relaxed, not seeming to care whether their pajamas came unbuttoned or not. The nights spent whispering, sprinkled with contented kissing, and a slow build into something more, or not.
Hermione touched Lucius's face. His eyes opened with the touch.
"Everything about you... has me absolutely transfixed," he murmured, his voice so deliciously low, that Hermione felt it in her bones. "I can barely look away. Knowing your scent, your purring sounds, the softness of your skin... It is getting harder and harder every day to put on the mask."
Hermione smirked. "You barely put on a mask, Lucius. You're quite forward, despite an audience."
"Trust me, my dear, I'm constantly holding myself back," Lucius confessed, his expression somber with no hint of teasing. "From the moment I get dressed, to the mere seconds before your put Draco to bed, I am longing to touch you, hold you, kiss you." He leaned down and brush his mouth lightly over hers. "Do you long for me, the same way I do you?" he asked curiously.
It was strange. Hermione's heart beat like a drum. "Yes," she whispered, and it wasn't a lie.
There was a length of comfortable silence between them.
Then Lucius's hands when to her shorts, he murmured, "Tonight I was planning a bit of snogging and cuddling, but... I think I need you." His words her soft, but had a curious urgency behind them, like his was suddenly a bit desperate.
Hermione's stomach fluttered as Lucius eased her out of her shorts. They pulled the already-open button-up shirt off of her. A week ago, at the very start of their dalliance, she was wildly uncomfortable being naked before his Greek god body, but the way Lucius look at her... it burned away all that insecurity and left desire in its ashes.
...
Sitting up in her bed, Hermione's knees were bent up against her chest, her chin resting on their peaks. Lucius had already fallen off the sleeping cliff and into the ocean of dreams, because behind his closed lids, his eyes fluttered rapidly, and he muttered quietly. One of his hands was curly limply around her ankle. His hair was played across his forehead and dangled in his eyes.
He was quite beautiful, Hermione thought reluctantly. All pale, alabaster tones. Hard muscle. He lay on his stomach, giving Hermione a perfect view of his sculpted back and, embarrassingly enough, red scratch marks on his shoulder blades, courtesy of her.
Biting her lip, Hermione looked at her calendar on her bedside. So many X's. How long could she play this dangerous game with Lucius? A week already passed. When would she be able to gain his trust and be allowed in the library? Or at the very least, how long before she found where he hid the keys?
They weren't in his study. Once when he slept, she broke in and searched it top to bottom. She never touched his mirrors, for fear of what happened last time. But there were no keys being held anywhere.
Reaching into her bedside drawer, Hermione withdrew the journal where she kept Draco's schedule, but had slowly become a diary. Sitting the leather-bound journal on her knees, she took her quill and began to write.
...~oOo~...
~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~