A/N. In case any of you weren't aware - THERE WAS AN UPDATE THIS PAST WEDNESDAY. So if you haven't read that yet, make sure you do before this chapter.
Hmm... what to say. This story is coming to an end very soon. This story isn't an adventure or, really, a romance. It's a tale of temptation, lust, duty, and manipulation. I'll be sad to see it go. Just a reminder - this fic IS rated M. So any talk of orgasms and sex is within my rights. If you don't like it then... well, you probably shouldn't be reading rated M fics, now should you?
...~oOo~...
Chapter Eight: The Ally
It was another Sunday. Narcissa was out of the house with Draco while Hermione was trapped between Lucius and his desk. With her bum braced on the edge of the desk and her naked legs curled around Lucius, Hermione held on tight to him, stifling whispers and shouts while he thrust into her, deeply, and with a definite rhythm.
Hermione gasped when Lucius pushed her fully back onto the surface, her shoulders and head crinkling parchment. She knocked over and inkwell, soaking her hair with black ink - something she didn't notice until later. She was far too busy focusing on every movement Lucius made in her. The grind of his hips, the slow withdraw that left her whimpering and the stroke inward that made it hard for her to breathe.
Lucius pinned her wrists to either side of her head then as he bent to kiss her sloppily but thoroughly on the mouth. He then guided her hands to around his head, and murmured sweet nothings that melted into dirty words and hissed expletives. Her hands slid around from his neck to his chest, trailing black ink with her fingers, painting stripes that marred his ivory skin.
The tension built blow in Hermione's stomach, that shaky tingle in her knees and hips, the telltale paralysis that exploded into a glorious release. Hermione gasped, desperate for air, as the same feeling that made her hips jerk and legs shake left stars in her vision.
Lucius shouted his own completion and collapsed atop her, catching himself before he crushed her. Their breath mingled between their lips as they panted and gasped, waiting for the aftershocks to fade.
He kissed her, gently. Just a slide of lips and exchange of sighs.
"Lucius..." Hermione whispered.
"Yes, beautiful?" he asked, burying his hands in her hair.
"You... you look like a zebra..." she said quietly.
Lucius's brow furrowed and his looks downward at the treks of ink down his torso. And he laughed. Hermione was shocked at the sound, but the sound of full, honest, rich laughter filled the study around them.
"And you look like a cow," he chortled.
"I do not -"
"Yes, you do. You've got big black spots, here, here, and here," he chuckled, pointing to his forehead, her arm, and her breast.
"Let me see," she said, wiggling out from under him and standing up. She moved towards the mysterious, sheet-covered mirror on the wall instinctively, but he immediately intercepted her, the laughter forgotten.
"No, no," he said, standing directly between her and the mirror. "You mustn't ever touch this mirror, do you understand?" He was looking at her firmly now, like she was Draco - a child that needed to be directed.
Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Hermione crossed her arms. She knew something was up with the mirror, and she was on the edge of finding out just what. "What's wrong with that mirror?"
Lucius cleared his throat. "We Malfoys have never been known for...simple heirlooms. The things of which we pass from generation to generation are much more complicated, and sometimes, dangerous. And that is all you need to know."
"But... I thought you said the dangerous things were in the library - that the things in here were... tamer," Hermione pointed out.
Lucius smirked, raking his hand back through his hair. Hermione wanted to tell him that he'd just streaked his beautiful blonde locks with black ink, but said nothing. "You're quite clever, my dear. But if the situation demanded it, I'd need immediate access to this particular mirror. Now, I've already said too much." He stepped towards her and put each of his hands on her hips, leaving black handprints on her flesh. "Let's go take a bath. I'll be sure to scrub every spot of ink off you."
Within minutes, Hermione was sitting in a steaming, mint green tea scented bath, sitting back between Lucius's legs, leaning into his chest. They'd just settled in, and the air hung with silence. It wasn't uncomfortable silence, but Hermione was thinking. Thinking hard.
Playing house with Lucius was nice, but she needed information.
"Would you like me to wash your back?" Lucius asked lowly in her ear.
She simply nodded and leaned forward. He ran a soapy rag over her back, and it felt like a massage. Hermione stared down into the water, seeing it turn greyish as the ink slowly came off of them. She felt the steam hitting her cheeks. and frizzing her hair even more so in its humidity.
"Lucius?"
"Yes?"
"I'm really very curious," she said slowly. "A few half-answers aren't enough to satisfy me."
His hand only paused for a moment before continuing its scrubbing, in lovely circles. "You are right. It was wrong of me to insult your intelligence by feeding you vague answers that probably only brought on more questions. But you're safer knowing less."
"I'm stronger than you think," Hermione said.
Lucius sighed. "You probably are. Probably stronger than me, as well."
That made Hermione's eyes widen. Never once in her life had she heard Lucius admit to being anything less than the strongest, most powerful, and the best. But... to admit weakness...
Hermione was getting somewhere.
She turned a little in his arms to face him, the water rippling around them. Hermione rested a hand on his chest and looked into those beautiful silvery eyes. She bit her lips and said, "You're the strongest person I know."
This wasn't true at all, and that left a deep guilt in Hermione that surprised her. In her experience, Lucius was weak, a follower, and a coward. He'd lied to the Ministry to escape incarceration after the first war, and following the second, he clung to the fact that he'd abandoned the final battle once Harry Potter was revealed to be alive. He was a master of hiding, of lying, of running for cover.
And it she felt sick thinking it - but it was the truth.
"The mirror..." he said slowly, "isn't a mirror."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Then what is it?"
"It's a doorway," he explained, his own brow creasing as he considered how to explain. "There is good reason why the library is warded the way it is, but some things, dangerous heirlooms, need a more... secure place. Valuable things, poisonous things, and sometimes, in the past, prisoners. The mirror is a doorway to where my ancestors trapped the things beyond even their control. Things that, if the doorway were left open, could escape and destroy anything in their path."
The first thing Hermione thought of was the smoke that devoured Lucius's room, those many nights ago. But the mirror hadn't been in the room, so Hermione dismissed this thought.
"The sheet covering it is bewitched. It keeps everything in the mirror, where it belongs," Lucius finished. One of his hands ran up the back of Hermione's thigh, almost affectionately. "Does that satisfy your curiosity, darling?"
Hermione nodded slowly. "Quite." She leaned up to grace his lips with a kiss. "Thank you for trusting me."
"It goes without saying, of course, that you speak of this to no one," he said causally, not sounding concerned. He obviously trusted Hermione, for reasons she didn't know. Sex was quite the motivator, though. An orgasm went a long way for a man.
"Of course," Hermione said, resting her head on his warm, firm shoulder.
"Now," he whispered. "Let's wash that hair of yours."
...~oOo~...
Hermione stood over Draco's crib the next day during his nap. She didn't know where else to be, even though she knew Draco would sleep for an hour at the very least. It was one of the odd days that Lucius was out, meeting connections rather than luring them to his domain. And Narcissa was having tea in the garden with another socialite that Hermione had never seen before.
Narcissa had so many friends and acquaintances that came and went from the house that Hermione gave up on keeping up. Sometimes if she remembered a name, she'd jot it down in her journal, just to ask about them when she returned to her own timeline. Purely out of curiosity.
At the notion of returning to her post-war world, Hermione was simultaneously anxious and reluctant. She needed to get back to her family and friends - this charade was becoming too much - but she'd started to get used to her lies, used to Malfoy Manor, and used to... well, Lucius.
Rubbing her forehead, Hermione tried to massage the thought right out of her head. Lucius wasn't important. Lucius was an ends to a means. She groaned.
What a nightmare.
"My, my, aren't we... stressed?"
Hermione jumped and spun around. It wasn't Narcissa, and nor was it Lucius. Hermione's eyes got huge when she took in the tall, lean form of a young Severus Snape.
"Oh," Hermione said, a little breathless. It was fear. "Hello, Mr. Snape. Are you looking for Master Lucius or -"
"No, I am not," he said stiffly. "On the contrary, I am looking for you."
She swallowed. This couldn't be good. "Er... what can I help you with?"
Severus was silent for a long time. Long enough to make Hermione shiver in wait, an unpleasant feeling coming over her.
"You do not belong here," he said, each word short and precise. "You know this. I know this. The only ones daft enough not to know this are Lucius and Narcissa."
Hermione tried speaking twice before words decided to come out. "I-I... don't know what you mean."
"Oh, don't play stupid with me," he said snidely, his face pulling into a sneer. "You know more than you let on. And while this would normally mean less than nothing to me, I have a distinct feeling that you know more than you should. So I will give you one chance to confess everything to me... And in return, I will do damage control for whatever your goal may be."
Hermione blinked. She swallowed. She had a small stroke. "H-how... how...?"
"I have a source," Snape said vaguely. "He's nitpicked the two memories I have of you, and everything Lucius has said about you, and decided you are hiding something. I agree. He gave me very direct orders to ally myself with you."
"Dumbledore?"
Snape paused. "So it is true. You know more than I'm comfortable with. Which means I will do whatever it takes to get rid of you."
"You mean assist me," she corrected.
"Same thing," he dismissed.
And so Hermione began to talk.
...
They stood at the mirror in Lucius's study. Snape wore the same severe expression he always did. Hermione was chewing on her lip with anxiety. From what Lucius had said about the contents of the mirror.
"The enchantments of the mirror are very precise," Severus explained sourly. "I remember when Lucius first inherited it. He got himself stuck inside for thirty-six hours."
Hermione tried not to be amused by this. "What do I have to do?"
"Your role is simple," he said. "The bewitched sheet can only be moved from the outside of the mirror. One can enter on their own, but require assistance in exiting. The obvious solution would be to just discard the sheet, but that would make Lucius suspicious, and even worse, any myriad of Dark forces could escape."
"And so I have to be around to remove the sheet."
"Yes, but according the Lucius - and the one glimpse I've had inside - this mirror holds a great many things. A lot to sort through. It will take a while for me to find the keys - if they're in here at all."
"When should I come back to let you out?" Hermione asked, her stomach turning. Something didn't feel right about this.
"In precisely twelve hours," he said, looking at the clock on the wall.
"But... what if something in there harms you?" Hermione asked.
"That's a risk we must take to return you to your timeline," Snape said coldly, like this should be obvious. He reached out to slide the silk sheet to the side, exposing more of the gorgeous opal mirror. It shimmered, glinting different colors in the light.
Then it hit Hermione like a gust of wind, this time metaphorical rather than literal. "Wait," Hermione said, digging into her pocket. She placed the stone in Severus's hand. "Take this."
He rose a dark brow at her in question.
"It's a Baby Stone. It's a monitor to Draco, in case he's distressed our in trouble, its sister stone begins to get very warm. So if there's an emergency while you're in there, I'll know, and can come rescue you immediately," Hermione explained.
Severus looked down at the stone, somewhat skeptically, but gave a curt nod nonetheless. Pocketing the stone, he turned back to the mirror, handed Hermione the bewitched sheet, and tentatively began touching the glass. Though it reflected their images back at them, it was made quite clear from first touch that there was no plane there. Severus's fingers dipped in.
Slowly, cautiously, Severus eased his arm through the mirror. Like water, there were a few rippling rings that spread from his elbow. Giving no backwards glances, Severus then stepped the rest of the way through, effortlessly.
Looking back at Hermione was herself, worried and scared for her professor.
...~oOo~...
A/N2. What do you think is coming up next? Will Severus find the keys? Will he return safely? Tell me what you think!
~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~