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This is written for my wonderful friend, Dynonugget. Raawwrrrrr!!!

With a frightened look on her face, she looks up and asks, "Lucius, who is Hespion Warland, and what is the Warland Council?"

I cross the room and gently remove the journal from her hands, tossing it onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed.

"Tomorrow, my dear. We'll discuss that nasty bit of business tomorrow," I say, leaning down to kiss her again. Lying down next to her, I draw her warm body into me. "Rest now, my love."

I wake early, as is my custom. Hermione is sleeping curled on her side, her knees drawn halfway to her chest. I had taken her in the middle of the night positioned as she is now, entering her from behind, with one hand molesting her clit and the other tweaking her nipples. It was hard and fast, with no soft words or gentle caresses, just long moans and gasping cries of pleasure. With a sigh, she rolls to her back, her cheek rubbing slowly on the pillow before settling once more.

My hands roam her body again, learning her shape and texture; the roughness on her elbows, the silkiness of her stomach, the firmness of her thighs. I begin to gently grind my morning erection against her hip. My hand once again covers her pussy, rubbing gently and slipping my finger between her folds.

Hermione brushes my hand from her body. "No," she mumbles, her eyes still closed, "I'm a bit sore from last night. It has been a while since I've..." Her voice trails off as a satisfied smile replaces her words.

"I know just how to fix that, Hermione," I whisper.

"What are you doing?" my witch asks, trying to deter me. I chuckle against her skin as I make my way down her body to settle between her legs. I alternate between nipping and licking her clit while gently rubbing her swollen pussy and thighs. The Death Eater roars in satisfaction, for she has been well and truly marked, and the evidence of our passion is on display. She sports small love bites and faint marks from my mouth and fingers. She gasps and twists in pleasure. I gently roll her clit with my tongue as I insert a finger into her swollen channel; she is wet. I insert another, and she whimpers, but not from pain.

"Keep still," I demand gruffly when she begins to fuck my face, and I place one hand on her soft belly to hold her down. I begin in earnest, gently biting and nipping, squeezing her clit and filling her pussy. She likes this small display of dominance, for when I inform her she is not allowed to orgasm, she cries softly but struggles to comply, tensing her thighs and curling her toes in the effort to stave off her pleasure. After long moments, I give her permission, and she screams through her release, her thighs trembling violently while her body softly convulses.

I pet her then, stroking her heated flesh, preparing her for what is to come.

"Up on your knees," I order in a low voice.

She moans softly, but rises. With my hand between her shoulder blades, I press her down so that her face lies flat against the bed. Bending over her to nip at her neck, I whisper, "Would you like to play, Sweet One, hmm? Is there is anything you want, anything you desire? I promise you will enjoy every moment."

Hermione's sexy laugh fills my ears. "Besides wanting you to fuck me, you mean?"

"Oh, I will do that, gladly, my love." Pulling back, I grasp her hips and bury myself fully in her hot body. A long wail escapes her, a mixture of pleasure and pain. I am still for the moment, letting my hands roam the soft flesh of her rounded arse spread out before me, the arse that sways as she walks, on which material clings softly, molding gently to her plump flesh.

I swipe my hand across the swell of her arse before issuing a sharp slap, and her soft cry reaches my ears. I withdraw my hand to see a lovely pink handprint. I pause to gauge Hermione's reaction, and her reaction is a delight; she works herself slowly on my cock, signaling she is ready for more. I thrust gently, and she whimpers. My hand slaps her again, producing another startled gasp. She is wet, and I slip easily from her until only the head of my cock is resting inside her.

"Are you ready, Sweet One?" I ask gently.

She gently rolls her hips. "More," she moans.

My hand lands on her bottom a half-second before I thrust into her, and soon I settle into a rhythm. A pink blush now covers her lovely arse. Her moan is as sweet as sugar to my ears, and I struggle to rein in my desire to dominate her, to bend her body to my will.

"Luc, more... more," Hermione begs, and I thrust deeper, picking up speed. I begin kneading her pink bottom until I can see her puckered little hole. Slowly my thumbs spread her soft flesh, working closer and closer to her anus until they are resting on either side of that special place, that hot, tight channel of untold delights. I message the area slowly, applying gentle pressure. I hear Hermione's low moan of excitement. My little witch likes this play, and I grin in delight. Leaning over her body, I bring my fingers to her mouth. "Wet them, love."

Instead of drawing them into her mouth and swirling her tongue around my fingers, she spits on my fingers. She glances back and smiles.

I hum in her ear, "What dirty thoughts are you harboring in that incredible mind, my love?"

"You know what I want," Hermione huffs thickly, groaning as she works herself into my hard length.

Rearing back, I gently coat her tight hole with her spit before once again placing my thumbs on either side, bearing down so that they slide into her body. I don't pause until my thumbs are buried to the hilt. She is moaning loudly, grinding awkwardly, not quite finding the correct angles for both her pussy and arse.

I slowly glide my thumbs in and out of her body, stretching her a little more each time. I feel my cock moving through the thin membrane that separates the two channels, and I press my thumbs down, the added sensations catching my breath.

"Wait," she pants. "Wait."

Hermione slowly eases forward so that I slip from her body. My erection is jutting and painfully hard, as she crawls to the edge of the bed. Reaching the nightstand, she grabs a quill and quickly transforms it into an anal plug. I am enchanted. She slips it past her lips, working it with her tongue and lips. With it in her mouth, she crawls behind me. I feel her hand on my back, urging me to bend over. I chuckle. My darling has a dirty little mind, and I am going to reap the rewards.

She slowly pushes the soft plug into my body, twisting it as it slips slowly past my tight muscle. I grunt as it hits bottom, and I pant as a thin sheen of sweat forms on my brow. It has been far too long since I have indulged in this type of play, and I am pleased beyond measure to know that Hermione, my strong, brave, intelligent and sexy witch is so open in sharing her desires with me.

"Okay, Luc?" Her voice is small and breathy, but tinged with excitement.

"Yes, love. Are you?" My voice, too, is small, and I take two slow, deep breaths to compose myself. She whispers her assent.

"All right. Get in position."

She positions herself in front of me, presenting her lovely pink arse once more. Her body is to be worshipped and adored and pleasured. I tell her how it feels to have her body clutch me, trapping me inside her slick heat. I plunge myself into her pussy, and she screams in pleasure.

The plug in my arse is moving within me, rubbing against my prostate, sending electric shots up my spine. A heady aroma fills the air, sweeter than any bouquet and more intoxicating than any aged brandy. I work furiously, driven by the need to please her, to make her mindless with sensations.

Hermione is incoherent as she comes again and again. I reach under her body to find her fingers rubbing her clit with a frenzied urgency. I explode over her body, and my hands smear the white mess, massaging it into her skin.

Exhausted, we collapse, falling onto the bed. We must have dozed, for when I open my eyes, Hermione is once again sleeping on her side, my hand buried between her legs. I shift and discover the plug is still inserted. I smirk, shifting my hips to drive the plug deeper into my body. My cock is not co-operating, however. While exciting, apparently it is not enough to raise me. Regretfully, I remove the toy from my body, then Vanish it. Glancing over at the timepiece on the nightstand, I see various potions Gobby no doubt has set out; one for aching muscles and another for all-over body pain. Hermione stirs next to me, and I kiss her, worshipping her lips and tongue and softness.

"I love you." I croak, my emotions rising suddenly.

"And I love you, Luc."

I smile, content.

Later, over breakfast, I begin the tale of Hespion Warland.

"The old wizard petitioned the Ministry of Magic thirty-five years ago to create a Wizarding think tank in order to best deal with the influx of Muggle-born wizards that would be receiving owls from Hogwarts eleven years hence. When the Ministry inquired of Mr. Warland how he knew there would be an influx of students to Hogwarts, Mr. Warland pointed to the young Wizarding and Muggle populations intermingling all over England and America. The year was dubbed "The Summer of Love;" and with a great deal of sex going on between Muggles and wizards, it would hardly be a stretch of the imagination to guess that children would be a result.

"Such was the auspicious beginning of the Warland Council. Since then, they have been working behind the scenes in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds to demoralize the bonds that had been created during that summer. When Voldemort rose to power, Warland all but stopped his work, not willing to draw attention to himself, thus escaping Voldemort's watchful eye." Hermione has narrowed her eyes, not a good sign.

"You knew all about this, didn't you? After the war ended, you knew he'd start again?" Hermione is becoming flushed, and not in the delightful way she did earlier this morning.

"I don't remember the last five years, my dear." I say smoothly. I put up a hand to stop what would have been the beginning of a tirade. I am quickly learning how to deal with my prickly witch. "I have, however, read my ledgers and journals, and I've come to the conclusion that the Warland Council engineered the inter-Muggle-Wizard relations campaign with the hopes of accomplishing what he set out to do all those years ago.

Hermione is just about to stand when I reach out and touch her hand. She settles back in her seat, and without giving her an opportunity to launch into what I am sure will be an entertaining monologue, I continue on:

"He is quite serious. He will not rest until he has accomplished his mission of bringing Muggles to heel and stop the infiltration of Muggle-borns into our society. He is not a killer, however; he is more practical and pragmatic. He understands politics and economic tides and is quite clever. Voldemort would have done well to learn from him. Since the end of the war, Warland has set plans in motion to destroy Britain's economy."

"How? That seems impossible; it is too big, too..." Hermione begins, but I stall her.

"His plan calls for Wizards to infiltrate Muggle businesses under the guise of inter-Wizard-Muggle relations. In simplest terms, it is a matter of 'divide and conquer.' The Council compiled a list of those companies that would best be served by a 'marriage' so to speak. In reality, under the approval of the Ministry, nearly one-fifth of Britain's top one hundred companies are now under the direct control of wizards. Stocks and values are being manipulated; and soon, the British government will follow suit. It is really just a matter of time before wizards are selected for key Muggle government positions, and after that..."

"Lucius," Hermione begins, her voice low but gaining volume as she continues. "He has involved you! The both of us! When this all comes out, the two of us are going to be accomplices in this whole sorry mess! How could you have let this happen, has the war taught you nothing?"

She is working herself into quite a state, it seems. She is concerned for her welfare, as she should. I am pleased that she is thinking of herself in those terms, not like the selfless, foolish Gryffindor. And her concern for me is quite touching; I am most pleased. Perhaps I am a sound influence on her.

"My dear, you do not believe that. I would never allow myself to be used in such a manner. No. I made my own deal with the Ministry after the war: I would start this little venture and continue on for a period of five years. At the end, I quietly remove myself from all ventures and resume my place in the world of Wizard finance, full of knowledge of how Muggle technology and economics affect our world. I will quietly go on amassing my billions and stay out of the Council's way." As her unease continues to grow, I hasten to reassure her, "We were never a part of the Council's schemes."

She smiles then, reassured. "We will expose the Council and overhaul the program. I'm sure it wouldn't be too difficult to begin an accounting of all those Muggle companies adversely affected. Of course, it would take a full audit to ascertain whether or not the company did poor through its own fault or..."

I cut her off. "No."

"Well, then," she huffs, "what are you going to do?"

"Nothing," I answer smugly. She looks appalled.

"But Lucius," Hermione wails, her disbelief evident. "You like working with Muggles!"

"No, I don't," I say succinctly. Even with no memory of my interactions with them, I know this.

"Yes, you do! Oh, I know you don't remember, but trust me; you've come to respect them. You've praised their intelligence, their inquisitive nature. You came around to not hating them, collectively, as a group." I cannot let her continue on in this manner.

"But I hate enough of them, Hermione. They are Muggles, for gods sake. I sincerely doubt that I would change that drastically over such a short period of time. I hardly think it possible."

"I don't understand," Hermione says softly. I draw her into my arms, comforting her. "Lucius, I'm a ..."

"You are a witch, Hermione, a lovely, temperamental, gloriously beautiful witch; my witch."

Her arms wrap around my waist and hug me tight. "Please, Luc. At least give the journal to PW Investigations. Let them make the decision as to what to do. We aren't involved. It can't hurt us."

Absently rubbing her back, I think of her suggestion. If my suspicions are correct, one or two more surprises are on the way. I smile, enjoying the build up of what is to come.

"Well, Floo them, then. I've wanted to talk with them about their investigation regarding the third man, the one who cast the Obliviate."

Two hours later, Misters Potter and Weasley stand uncomfortably in my downtown office. This meeting on neutral territory was Hermione's idea, and I am thankful. Potter and Weasley are no longer the young pups of school. They are now tall, strong men, capable of taking down Dark Wizards and thugs alike. Not that they'd have a chance in hell with me, I smirk.

When I ask after their progress on locating the third man, they stare in puzzlement.

"Didn't Draco Floo you?" Mr. Weasley asked, disbelievingly.

Mr. Potter chimed in. "We received a tip last night that Gerald Strommond, your attacker, was holed up in an upstairs room at the Leaky Cauldron. We were just about to Apparate, when we received a rather urgent message from the Minister, so we tried to Floo you."

"We weren't able to get through," Mr. Weasley injected bitterly.

"So," Mr. Potter continued, "we Floo-ed Draco, who Apparated to the Cauldron to keep an eye on Strommond until we could get there and take over. He said he'd keep you apprised of the situation."

"So, I take it you've Strommond in custody?" I ask tersely, itching to get my hands on the man before the MLE do.

"Well, no, actually..." Before Mr. Potter can continue, my secretary owls to say Draco is waiting to see me. He'd stopped by the penthouse, and Gobby informed him of my whereabouts. With the flick of my fingers, I open the door, and Draco strides through.

"Father, didn't expect to see you at the office on a Saturday. I've some..." he stops abruptly seeing the other men in the room. With a smile, he greets them as friends, but there is a glint in my son's eyes that keeps me quiet for the moment.

Potter and Weasley both ask him what happened to Strommond at the Cauldron. Casting me a quick look, he looks at the men sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck.

"He got away. I was sitting at the bar, waiting for you to return, and old Tom asked if I'd have a quick look at the new ovens he'd had installed. I suppose I must've been in there longer than I'd thought, because when I checked to see if Strommond was still in his room, the door was wide open and there was no sign of him."

Again, Draco casts a quiet look my way, and I smother a grin. The apple hasn't fallen far from the tree, it would seem.

Misters Potter and Weasley assure me they will resume their investigation, but I stop them.

"No, leave it be." Both men stare at me, even Hermione is looking on in disbelief. "He will meet his own sticky end. Miscreants usually do."

Mr. Potter spends a long moment staring at me. At last, he nods in understanding, "We won't waste our time on him, then."

I allow for a small smile, then move on to the next item on my agenda. With a nod to Hermione, she retrieves the journal from my desk and presents it to Mr. Potter. Quietly asking that she fill her friends in on its contents, I rest my hand on my son's shoulders and guide him out of my office. With the door closed behind us, we turn to each other grinning, acknowledging that he has taken care of Strommond himself, thus eliminating the need for Potter and Weasley or the MLE to become involved.

Draco pulls on his outer robe and makes to leave. Before stepping in to the Floo, he turns and grinning, he asks, "Are you going to marry her, then?"

Not waiting for an answer, he disappears in the green flames, leaving me to stare at the empty fireplace before slowly turning and enter my office once more.

A/N: A big, wonderful thank you to my two fantastic betas, Wildcatcdc and Sc010f.