Part Two: Bondage & Seduction

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

A/N - Written for the Mistress Malfoy Birthday Challenge '09, and loosely based on the Lumione prompt #2. She speaks up for Lucius in the aftermath of the war, he is strangely grateful to the filthy little witch who bested his son at every turn. The only way Lucius knows how to repay her, is not with kindness but to bring her into a world she could only dream of and never realized she wanted.

I would like to thank Olgameisterfunk08 and AlexisRose for the beta of this story, despite them both being inordinately busy people themselves.

--

She arrived at Malfoy Manor at three in the afternoon.

Hermione had decided to take the afternoon off from work when she remembered that it was the day that she had to go to Malfoy Manor and check-up on Lucius. It had been a month since the trial, and she was already beginning to tire of the chore that Kingsley had sentenced her to. As had become the usual, she found the door unlocking and opening itself for her to enter, which she assumed meant that the elder Malfoy trusted her to some degree. That was somewhat flattering in itself. And while she wasn't exactly Malfoy's biggest fan, the man was less irritating to her than he had been.

Entering the house, she followed the path her footsteps had created on the dust on the floor the numerous times she had been there before. Malfoy was always in the study whenever she stopped by, or would appear there soon after if he had not been in the room. It was sort of odd to her that a man who she had always known to be a pure-blood snob would spend so much time amongst his books.

'You're later than I thought you would be,' Malfoy said in greeting as she walked through the study doors.

Hermione almost snorted at that. 'I apologise for not coming at the exact time that you predicted,' she said, voice dripping sarcasm. 'Next time I shall be sure to be more prompt for you.'

'You're terribly snarky today, Miss Granger,' he commented. 'Are you sure you aren't channelling Snape?'

'Of course not. Now what have you been up to since my last visit?' she asked, ignoring his last comment. She did not like to talk about her deceased former professor.

'Research,' he murmured in reply, moving from his seat at his desk to his usual seat in one of the armchairs by the fire, gesturing for Hermione to sit. 'Although as of yesterday evening, I have finally found what I was looking for.'

'What might that be?' Hermione asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of her tone as she took a seat in the armchair directly across from Malfoy.

'A ritual,' he answered. 'It involves some rather complicated spell work, and an exchange of blood, but I think that it will serve our purposes rather well. I was practicing the wand movements last night.'

'What do you mean by "our purposes", Malfoy?' she demanded, her forehead creased with a frown.

'It's quite simple you see,' he said quietly, suddenly taking his wand from his sleeve and giving it a flick in her direction.

Hermione was immediately bound by the wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the armchair. The vines that bound her were similar to the ones that had captured her by the bookcase that time over a month before, minus the thorns. She looked over at him, an indignant expression creeping onto her face. Malfoy looked vaguely amused and a little smug. She imagined that it was because he had caught her unawares – bastard.

'What is the meaning of this?' she demanded, trying to tug her right hand free.

Malfoy smiled almost evilly. 'I have spent the better part of my time since the trial searching for a diary of one of my ancestors, which contains a certain ritual that I was interested in,' he answered. 'You see, I owe you a life debt, and there was only one way I could think of to repay you, and the ritual is the answer.'

'What on earth are you on about, Malfoy?' she said, her cheeks flushing with anger.

'I want to give you a gift for saving my life, Hermione,' he said smoothly, wordlessly sticking his hand out and summoning an old, leather-bound book into it. 'I'm not a kind man, but I do have the ability to discover the weaknesses of others, and I know your weakness. I can give you something that will erase all of your insecurities.'

'I'm not the insecure one here, Malfoy,' she snapped. 'I demand you release me.'

'I cannot do that for the time being, Granger,' he answered quietly, his voice almost mesmerizing, drifting over her like an enchantment, forcing her to be calm.

'I'm not insecure,' she repeated with less force.

Malfoy chuckled darkly. 'Oh, I very much doubt that, Miss Granger,' he said, standing and walking around the chair she was trapped in, stopping behind her and leaning down to whisper in her ear. 'You are a thirty-year-old Muggle-born witch. You are single, and you lack the connections you need to advance you to a higher position in society despite your friendship with Harry Potter. Admit it – you need me.'

'I don't need anyone, Mr. Malfoy,' she said sharply, unable to keep the emotion from her voice. Of course, He was right to some degree.

She was a Muggle-born witch of great talent, intelligence and attractiveness.

Everyone Hermione Granger encountered, she left an impression on - whether it was good or bad depended totally on the other person. Her upbringing had been good, and as the daughter of two very well established dentists, she had gone to an expensive private school until she was accepted into Hogwarts. In non-Magical society, Hermione's family was considered to be somewhat prestigious, and people in the middle and lower class aspired to one day be like the Grangers.

During the first eleven years of her life, Hermione had been afforded every luxury that her parents could provide her, and being an only child, they had shamelessly spoiled her. All of her possessions were expensive. Every time her parents went on a trip around the world, they would pull her out of school and teach her themselves so that they could take her along with them. She had visited many countries and seen many things, but never once had she considered that she would ever be seen as anything other than what she was – the daughter of two very wealthy dentists.

However, when Hermione had first arrived at Hogwarts, she had received the shock of a lifetime.

In the Wizarding World there was another hierarchy of its own – and in it, both witches and wizards without any previous magical lineage were considered to be at the bottom of it. She had gone from being one of the most popular and well-liked girls at school to a know-it-all, overachieving girl, with no friends and nobody to talk to. It wasn't any wonder then, that she would eventually make friends with the only two who were willing to give her a chance: a half-blood wizard and a pure-blood wizard who happened to come from a family that was sympathetic to Muggle-borns.

The names she was called while she attended Hogwarts had offended her. The first time she had been called a Mudblood was in her second year – by none other than Draco Malfoy. He was from exactly the sort of family that bred the worst kind of pure-bloods. With time, however, Hermione grew to care less and less about the opinions of others and matured into the woman she was that very day – calm, intelligent without being annoying, reasonably attractive and kind.

In that moment, however, she knew she had been in denial for a very long time.

Hermione cared a lot more than she wanted to. She longed to be accepted and praised and desired. There was nothing wrong with her appearance or personality to stop a man from desiring her company, but somehow she was still alone. And she knew the reason why was because the prejudice against Muggle-borns was still as present then in the present day than it was before Voldemort was destroyed.

'I know what you want, Hermione,' Lucius drawled smoothly. 'You might not want to say it out loud, but secretly, I know the desire is there.'

'You're wrong!' Hermione shouted back, unwilling to allow him to have so much power over her. 'I don't want to be like you.'

Lucius chuckled again. 'Granger, you are only trying to fool yourself now,' he said harshly, coming around to the front of her chair and grabbing her face in one hand, turning it up to look at him. 'For a Mudblood, you are quite attractive. If you were like me, think of just how much more desirable you would be.'

Hermione snorted. 'You pure-bloods,' she spat angrily, 'you always think you are so much better than everyone else – especially people like you, Lucius. You haven't changed a bit.'

'Neither have you, you insolent girl,' he said, releasing her face and slapping her across the cheek with the back of the same hand.

He kneeled down before her quickly and held her face in his hands once more. 'I am offering you the chance of a lifetime here, Granger,' he said softly. 'You would be a fool to deny yourself this gift.'

Tears began to build in her eyes, and she blinked furiously to try and clear them. 'I shouldn't want to be anything other than I am,' she whispered, her face flushing with shame.

'Just one word, Granger, and I can make you a part of my world,' he said seriously.

Hermione sat in the chair feeling frozen and numb. Her mind was screaming yes, but her conscience was sealing her mouth shut. Her mind was going in all directions, and the more she fought it, the more she wanted it, and the more it hurt.

'I want it,' she said finally, unable to stop the words from spewing from her mouth.

Malfoy grinned maliciously, releasing her face from his grip. He released her bonds and walked over to his desk. Grabbing a jar from the top, he tossed it to her. She caught it and realised that it was the healing balm she had used the last time she had been injured in his house. Unscrewing it, she applied a little of the minty-smelling paste to her cheeks that were bruised from his grip and the slap. She watched as he opened one of his desk drawers and removed something shiny from it, and then as he strode back over to where she sat.

'You will need to cut cleanly across your right palm with this,' he said, passing her the shiny silver dagger.

In popular Malfoy fashion, the handle was serpentine and ornate, encrusted with many glittering emeralds. 'I can't do that,' she said softly.

'You will have to,' he urged, 'only you can make the cut in your flesh or the ritual will not be able to be performed. You must be willing to do anything for this, Miss Granger.'

Hermione's eyes refilled with tears. She was panicking, she knew, but she had to do it to become like him. She needed to do it. Taking the blade firmly in her left hand, she opened her right hand up and placed the sharp side of the blade across her palm in a firm, straight line. Closing her eyes, she pressed harder and paused, feeling the pinch as it broke through a layer of skin before pulling it sharply across and slicing through her own hand. She opened her eyes to find her hand bleeding profusely, and she immediately clenched her fist to stem the bleeding.

'You mustn't do that,' Lucius crooned, pulling her hand open and allowing the blood to flow freely once more.

He took the blade and repeated her actions, slicing through his own right palm without so much as batting an eyelash. His lack of emotion sent chills down Hermione's spine. What must he have done throughout his lifetime to make him so comfortable with something like that? Lucius was not what she had expected at all. He placed the blade on the table behind him before turning back to her and grasping her bloody hand with his.

'Are you ready for this, Miss Granger?' he asked her, a challenge sparkling in his eyes.

Biting her bottom lip and sucking in a breath from the pain of his grip, she nodded. 'Get this over and done with,' she murmured.

He grabbed up his wand and pointed it at their connected hands. 'Bind us by blood, necto nostrum sanguis,' he said quietly but clearly.

Immediately, a deep purple light began to glow around their hands, and Hermione looked on in awe.

'Exchange for her impurity, the purity of my own blood, verto suus sanguis dum metallum. Make her pure, creo suus castitas,' Lucius continued.

The glow between them became brighter until it enveloped them both in a white light from head to toe, glowing for what seemed like ages. Hermione felt something in her change, and it felt like cool ice was running through her veins, replacing her old blood with new, very cold blood. It continued until it was almost unbearably painful, and then ended slowly until she and Lucius were no longer glowing.

As soon as Malfoy released her hand, she tried to stand up from the chair, but felt light-headed and swayed before falling back into the chair and passing out cold.

--

Hermione stirred from her sleep, blinking rapidly as she regained consciousness.

She could see from the ceiling itself that she was most certainly not in her own house. In fact, the ornate paintings all over the room, as well as the comfortable and very expensively dressed bed that she was in told her that she had to be in a room in Malfoy Manor. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position and looked to the double doors to find them covered in carved serpents. It was definitely Malfoy Manor. She wondered perhaps if she had simply passed out from exhaustion, and all of the crazy blood bonding had been a nightmare.

Shifting to the edge of the huge bed that she was on, she swivelled so that her legs were hanging off the edge before attempting to stand. She looked down to find that she was in the same clothing as she had been when she first arrived at the Manor, but found no traces of blood. This made her feel relieved for a moment, until she remembered that there was such thing as a cleansing charm. Frowning, she went to the doors and opened one enough to slip out of the room before walking down the hall in the direction she assumed would lead to the exit.

She finally reached a staircase and made her way down it, ending up standing in the dusty entrance hall. 'Lucius Malfoy, would you please get your arse here now?' she called out, assuming that he would hear her somehow and find her.

No sooner than the words had left her mouth, Malfoy appeared beside her in the hall with a dramatic crack of Apparation. 'You called, Madam?' he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Hermione turned to face him directly, and doing so was like a blow to her system. His silver-blonde hair that was long, silky and the same as ever, seemed to stand out like a beacon to her that day. There was something about his smug little smirk that seemed to have a spark to it, and the tug in her belly alerted her to her hormonal reaction to his attractiveness. He was the same as he was the last time she had seen him, whenever that was, but something about him was drawing her to him.

'What am I doing here?' she demanded.

'You passed out cold,' he answered simply.

'I gathered as much, but what I am confused about was a strange dream that I had,' she said, frowning at him. 'I thought I had become-'

'A pure-blood?' Lucius finished for her. 'Why yes, Miss Granger, you have.'

Hermione's breathing ceased and her vision blurred, her knees quickly giving out. However, before she could collapse in a pile on the dusty floor, Malfoy caught her and carefully pulled her back to her feet. However, he didn't let go of her lest she faint and concuss herself on the floor of his entrance hall. The last thing he needed was more blood on his hands. Well, involuntary blood, at least. When she resumed her deep breathing, Lucius led her to the staircase and pushed her down to sit before following shortly after and sitting beside her.

'Bit of a nasty shock, wasn't it?' he asked calmly.

Hermione nodded, looking down at her palm. She expected to find a straight scar of the cut on her hand, but instead saw that it had transformed into somewhat of a serpent in shape. She looked over to Malfoy who offered his own hand wordlessly, and she saw that he had the same.

'How long was I unconscious for?' she asked quietly.

'About three and a half days,' he answered. 'Your body took time to adjust to the magical purity levels in your blood.'

She nodded. 'I felt something when I saw you a moment ago,' she said softly. 'It's confusing – like an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. And then it twists and I get all hot and cold. It's happening right now too.'

'My proximity is going to give you trouble for a few years,' he answered seriously. 'The journal stated that being near me will make you uncomfortable and wanting of my attention, as well as heighten any sexual feelings you have. And also, being far away from me for any extended period will result in a slow decline in your health.'

'It's like I'm your prisoner,' she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. 'You've trapped me.'

'I've freed you from your internal torment and insecurities over not being good enough for the likes of any man,' he told her plainly. 'This is what you wanted, and that was the only way that I could give it to you.'

Hermione shot him a tearful glare. 'I hate you for what you have done to me,' she said, her voice venomous.

'You brought this upon yourself, little witch,' Lucius said, standing from the step and holding out her wand to her.

She shot up on her feet and brought her hand across his face with a loud slap. 'Fuck you,' she snarled, snatching her wand and then striding to the main doors.

She had the doors open and had Apparated before another word could be said.

--

Hermione spent the next two weeks on vacation.

She used up some of her long service leave time, and decided to take a break from it all. One of the other Aurors was put on temporary nanny duty for Malfoy, and she was trying as hard as hell not to have any thoughts or even feelings for the stupid, arrogant villain that she had prevented from going to prison. But no matter how many wicked names she came up with, one thing did not change.

That uncomfortable feeling in her stomach every time she even so much as glanced at a picture of him, and she saw her fair share. Malfoy and his trial were still in the papers everywhere, and she was even featured in some of the photos. The worst part was, all of the photos of him were smirking at her. Smirking! With that smug, arrogant look as if his shit didn't smell. And she was a part of him.

Sighing angrily, she shoved the papers aside, toppling them off the table.

She didn't care that they had fell, nor did she make an attempt to pick them up. She simply left her kitchen and went upstairs to her bathroom, flicking her wand at the faucets of her bath to fill the tub. When it was full enough, the taps turned themselves off and Hermione stripped off all of her clothes from that day and tossed them into the laundry hamper nearby. Placing her wand on the side of the tub, she slipped into the steaming water slowly and sunk down to allow it to soothe her troubled mind.

She hated Malfoy.

This much she knew, but at the same time, she wanted him. Hermione hated herself for being so weak. She had allowed Malfoy to perform that ritual. She had let him have access to her body. Who knew, he probably even had access to her innermost thoughts. Stupidly, she had allowed herself to be taken for a fool, all over a silly insecurity about never finding someone to love in her life. And what had she gotten out of it? She had gotten a dark master and a lifetime of pent-up sexual frustration that she was trying so hard not to act on.

'I hate him,' she said to herself angrily. 'I hate myself for being so foolish.'

'Well now, that's more like it, isn't it?' said Malfoy's voice, startling her out of her thoughts.

Hermione looked over to the doorway of her bathroom to find it open, Malfoy standing right in the doorway, leering at her appreciatively. Even though there were bubbles hiding her from the shoulders down, she still wrapped her arms about her protectively after snatching her wand from the side of the tub.

'How long have you been standing there for?' she asked furiously.

'I arrived on time to hear you say that you hate yourself,' he murmured smugly in reply.

'You're a pig,' she spat. 'Why are you in my house? Don't you know that this in an invasion of privacy and trespassing on private property? There are laws about this you know.'

'And what would you have the Ministry do about it?' he asked smoothly. 'How will you explain that you are now bound to me? We're practically married now, you know.'

'Get out of my sight,' she said, despite the warmth spreading throughout her body and loins, flushing her cheeks with colour. Her stomach was a riot of knots.

'It's not going to get better if you just deny it,' Lucius said calmly. 'You can't ignore those feelings you have, and they are going to get worse the longer you remain away from me, Hermione Granger.'

Hermione wanted to cry so much, but all her body wanted to do was spring out of the bathtub and throw herself at him. 'Please, for the love of Merlin, why can't you just let me be?' she said, her frustration showing itself.

'I cannot let you,' he answered. 'I am just as much yours now as you are mine.'

Hermione stopped to think about what he had just said for a moment. 'You mean to tell me that you want me just as badly as I crave you?' she asked.

He smirked. 'Not as badly as I was the one to initiate the ritual in the first place, but yes, I do feel stirrings whenever you come to mind,' he answered coolly.

Bastard, she thought, glaring at him. But then another thought occurred to her, and the glare slipped off her face. If he could trap her in a de facto, blood-bound marriage with him, then she could tease him as often as she wanted. Without another thought, she pushed herself up and out of the water, aware that she was quite fit and had a rather nice and toned body for a woman of thirty. She was all too aware of his gaze drifting from her full, pale-skinned breasts to the thatch of curls between her toned thighs.

'See something you like?' she taunted before grabbing a towel and beginning to wrap it around her.

'Oh no, you don't,' he snarled, ripping the towel away from her and grabbing her around the middle.

She shrieked as he lifted her up and was thrown over one of his surprisingly strong shoulders before he stomped out of the bathroom and through the door to her bedroom. He unceremoniously dropped her onto her bed and proceeded to tear off his jacket, beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt. She sat sprawled on her bed watching him until the shirt was totally off and she could appreciate his sinewy-muscled chest beneath. After that, she moved forward and it was all pure instinct from there.

His trousers and undergarments were removed in short order with Hermione's help, and she soon found herself once again tossed across her bed before he lunged gracefully over and onto her, pressing his need into her thigh. Looking down, she grasped his length in her hand, surprised at the extent of his arousal and also at the size and shape. She would have imagined him thicker, but he was thin and long.

He looked down at her face, his steely eyes intense. 'Tell me what you want, witch,' he growled.

'Fuck me,' she told him, fisting her hands in his long hair and pulling his mouth to hers aggressively.

There was nothing gentle about their first time. It was all raw, purely need. His technique was not rustier than if he had been shagging just the day before, although for some reason, Hermione knew that he hadn't been. Malfoy, however, had waited for her for two long weeks to seek him out before he became sick of the game and went to her instead. And it certainly was satisfying. His cock moved in and out of her hard and fast, and she lifted her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. He fucked her long and hard until they were both screaming their orgasms.

In the aftermath, they rested on their backs, staring at her plain white ceiling.

'You could learn not to hate me, you know,' he said simply, his breathing still a little hard.

Hermione smirked and turned onto her side to look at him. 'I still hate you just as much right now as I did before we shagged,' she said, although her voice was not malicious. 'Give it a few months maybe, and I might forgive you for this predicament that we are in.'

'I still intend to fuck you quite often, I'll have you know,' he said seriously.

Hermione laughed softly, shifting so that she could climb beneath the covers of her bed, tugging the side Lucius was on so that he would do the same. Once he was also beneath them, she flung her arm over him and rested her head in the crook of his arm and chest. Even though she was furious with him, there was no reason not to enjoy it. It had been a long time since she had snuggled with anyone, and even Lucius Malfoy wasn't such a bad prospect to be snuggling with.

Of course she realised then that she was probably going to have to have his parole switched over to someone else... She didn't like to mix work with play.

--

Terminus.