Three

Title: The White Peacock

Author: Bambu

~o0o~

When next he saw her she was cloaked against the evening's chill, residual vapor from the last departing engine giving her a backdrop of gothic portent, but her expression was open, possibly welcoming, and Platform 9 ¾ was deserted save for their presence.

Lucius had dressed with great care, having sent an owl to Henry Cromwell inquiring about Muggle customs and evening attire. There had been a discomfiting moment when Lucius stared at the suit his personal house-elf, Chevalier, laid out for his inspection. It had taken fully two minutes for him to realize his most recent acquisition from Monsieur LaPierre at Abbott's, clothiers to wizards with discriminating taste, conformed to that of Muggle haute couture. Initial outrage at being duped had settled into satisfaction and a smirk. Lucius would be decently appareled for dining, and his guest would have no flaw to sneer at. Not that she would, he had thought. Hermione Granger may be many things. Petty isn't on the list.

"This is less frequented..." she greeted him with a smile, gesturing to the empty platform, "...and has the benefit of being a location we both know well."

"Will you tell me now where we're going?" Lucius asked. "Something more definitive than 'it's in Muggle London,' or 'dinner attire is appropriate'?"

In the dark it was difficult to see her blush, but the added color enhanced her features. Hermione Granger had grown into herself, he thought. The authority of her office became her, and she radiated a powerful aura. Lucius thought it was more appealing than any perfume he'd bought for Narcissa over the course of their marriage, or any woman he had dated since.

There was no coquetry in Hermione's demeanor as she spoke. She needed none. "Our reservations are for The Landau in Marylebone near Regent's Park. Kingsley said the food is excellent."

Lucius brow arched. "Kingsley Shacklebolt suggested the place we're dining?"

"Not specifically. I asked him for a restaurant with a luxurious ambiance and an excellent menu. He doesn't know it's you I'm having dinner with." Hermione stepped closer to him and peered into his eyes – she was several inches shorter than he, and tendrils of her curly hair framed her face. "This isn't an attempt to punish you by suggesting Muggle London. I thought you would prefer discretion."

"I prefer discretion in many things," Lucius commented, "especially a first time."

"Or a last." Lucius chuckled at her tart rejoinder, and then she said, "I hope you don't mind if I Side-Along you? There's a public Apparition point in the All Soul's Church portico, and it's a short walk from there."

By way of an answer, Lucius offered her his arm.

Hermione looked at it for a moment before tucking her hand in the bend of his elbow. Her eyes were sparkling as she aligned her foot with his, and he allowed her to pull him into the black constriction that was Apparition. Within seconds, they appeared in a small room carved magically into the stone of All Soul's. When they entered the church's portico Lucius scrutinized the columns supporting its roof. He sneered. "The architect was clearly an amateur."

"Really?" Hermione followed his glance. "How can you tell?"

"Before the Statute of Secrecy was enacted, building styles were similar between Muggle and wizarding worlds. My father was interested in architecture, and when I was a child, I used to read his books on the subject."

"Your father?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"Don't interrupt the lecture," Lucius said in a mock serious tone.

In an equally light vein, Hermione replied, "A life-long swot never interrupts a lecture."

Lucius heard more than she meant to reveal in her comment, but he pretended not to have noticed. Obligingly, he pointed toward the columns with his cane. "The capital is Ionic in style while the columns are Corinthian. Corinthian columns are more slender than Ionic, and the capital to column ratio differs between the two. Thus, when viewed at a distance, this poorly matched example will give the impression of too much weight on an inadequate, even spindly, support system."

He glanced around, out onto Langham Place where Muggle vehicles sped past. "We should have to step into that to get the full effect, but I assure you it will be so."

Hermione subtly guided their direction toward the crosswalk which would take them to the Langham Hotel, "Since our restaurant is there..." she pointed to the imposing structure on the opposite side of the street, "...we can take a look."

"That is a restaurant?"

She smiled at him. "I had exactly the same reaction when I first saw it."

Considering her comment about Shacklebolt's recommending the restaurant, Lucius asked, "And when exactly was that?"

"Earlier today when I confirmed the Apparition point was still viable. The building's a hotel; the restaurant is inside. There's a private entrance, just there on the curve."

They crossed the busy street, Lucius looking askance at the flow of traffic, and he winced as horns honked. "Horrid noise. However do they allow it?"

"It's transportation. Much quicker than thestral-drawn carriages," she replied. "Here we are."

Briefly, Lucius turned to look at the All Soul's tower. "See." Satisfaction laced his tone. "Spindly."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder and nodded. "I've never liked the portico."

"Evidence of your discerning eye," he replied. Then, with a dismissive shrug, Lucius turned his back on the defective church.

They left their outer wear with a young woman dressed in severe black, and Lucius missed the admiring look on Hermione's face when she took in his suit and him in it. He was too busy controlling his breath. "You are magnificent, Hermione."

"Thank you." Her blush, which had earlier faded, blossomed on her cheeks until it matched the color of the dress she wore, the same shade as his favorite Bordeaux. Eschewing the current trend of showing too much skin, Hermione had chosen to dress in a style which suited her. High-necked and long-sleeved, the dress hung to a demure length, showing her figure to great advantage. Known to be a connoisseur of the fairer sex, Lucius decided Hermione Granger was a woman to be savored.

He cleared his throat against an entirely visceral reaction, and gestured for her to precede him to their table. He smirked; watching Hermione's hips sway beneath her subtle but elegant dress was well worth the exercise in good manners.

They were led past a glass-fronted wall of cabinets housing what appeared to be an impressive selection of wines, and Lucius paused, raising his hand to the glass, noting it was chilled to the touch. Temperature controlled, he thought. Clever. He the ease of access and clean presentation of the showcases, not to mention the potential mitigation of Cooling Charm damage which was a detriment to wizarding vintners.

Lucius covertly eyed his surroundings. Aside from the glare of the lighting fixtures and the presence of a Muggle wait-staff rather than seldom seen or heard house-elves, Lucius could have been in any upscale restaurant in the wizarding world.

The maitre d' placed menus on the table before departing silently. As Lucius perused the menu, he noted the first sign of anxiousness in Hermione's demeanor.

"It is not what I expected," he said, his tone unremarkable.

"I know you weren't expecting some chippy down the waterfront, but where exactly did you think we were going?"

"A chippy?" he asked, ignoring the substance of her query. "What in Merlin's name is a chippy?"

A mischievous glint lit her brown eyes, and she grinned. "I'll take you to one sometime." She glanced around and appeared to wave her hand at their surroundings, but Lucius saw the tip of her wand peeking out of her sleeve at the wrist, and he felt the distinctive tingle of a spell Severus Snape had created years before. Hermione didn't acknowledge that she'd just performed magic in a Muggle establishment, and he filed the information away for later reflection. She said, "You'll think you're slumming – or more probably, the area will confirm your opinion of Muggles, but there's this place Tyneside, Colman's, which has the best fish and chips I've ever eaten."

"I'll pretend you didn't just accuse me of aristocratic arrogance or ignorance. My cook makes excellent fish and chips. If this restaurant lives up to Shacklebolt's recommendation, then I might be brave enough to attempt another foray into the Muggle world."

"I don't think bravery is a prerequisite," she said, and he basked in the light of her smile, "and an accusation wasn't my intent. I was merely commenting on your notably refined palette."

"I assure you," he said, "some of the best food I've eaten has come in mundane packages and surroundings. The hag selling chestnuts at the corner of –"

He broke off as the waiter approached and Hermione cancelled the Muffliato. A moment later, the sommelier arrived to discuss wines with Lucius. Hermione admitted she knew little about wine beyond what she liked, and appeared perfectly content to let him exercise his knowledge about viticulture and sunny slopes.

If nothing more, Lucius considered the evening a success because he might have discovered a new market for the family winery. Malfoy Vineyards had suffered an economic downturn after the war, but exporting to a Muggle market might bear further consideration, especially if those temperature controlled cabinets were adaptable.

While awaiting their starters, Lucius and Hermione discussed favorite foods. Lucius agreed that cream tea was better in Cornwall than anywhere else, and then he asked, "What do you think of the chardonnay?"

"It's excellent." Hermione sipped her wine before commenting further. "Such a light wine. Should I smell butter?"

He swirled the wine in his glass and inhaled. "Butter isn't an unusual fragrance in a chardonnay, and I also detect a subtle hint of apple." He then took a drink. "It has an appealing finish."

Hermione nodded. "It's perfect with my soufflé; it doesn't overwhelm the flavors at all. How is it with your terrine?"

"It's perhaps a little light for the duck, but the red we'll have with our main course will marry better."

"Do you think so? I would have served white with the main course as well."

"The old rules are simply guidelines." He spread some terrine on a slice of toasted brioche and topped it with a dab of chutney. He looked at her eager expression. He liked the way she listened to him. "If the sommelier is correct, then the earthiness and subtle berry notes of the red should bolster the flavor of your risotto and smooth out any bitterness from the damsons accompanying my grouse."

Hermione grinned. "If you were ever looking for an occupation, Lucius –" for he had become Lucius and she Hermione over the course of the evening, "...you could become a food and wine critic for the Prophet. That paper could use a more elevated tone."

"Why do you assume managing what little estate has been left to me isn't an occupation?" he asked with some asperity.

Fortunately, they were interrupted by the arrival of their main courses, and Hermione frowned as she eyed Lucius' plate. "Will that be enough?" she asked when the servers departed.

"More than adequate, I assure you." Lucius raised his glass, offering a toast. "To the sky and earth, may our ambitions reach as high as one while our feet remain firmly planted in the other."

By the time he'd finished his grouse, Lucius realized he was having an excellent time. When Hermione laughed at his joke about the barrister and the Wizengamot, he knew he would work to hear that sound again. A number of my ancestors are turning in their graves, he thought.

Delicately patting her lips with her serviette, Hermione said, "About your earlier comment...."

He raised a brow in silent query.

"About your having an occupation. I didn't intended to imply you were indolent or a wastrel. I know you aren't. After all, Samson's virility is renowned in my neighborhood, and I've been offered a variety of inducements for his services."

"Good god, woman!" Lucius exclaimed. "You haven't been breeding him indiscriminately--" he broke off at the expression on her face, realized immediately how his comment could be misconstrued, and said, "I've spent the past decade husbanding the Malfoy breeding stock."

Understanding dawned on her face, and Lucius was surprisingly relieved.

"You've no reason to be concerned on my account," she said. "Your only true competition might be Carstairs, but I turned down his offer for Delilah."

"Delilah?" he asked in exactly the same tone his grandson had used during Easter holidays, and then Lucius chuckled. "I should have guessed the name when you said Samson was the peacock. Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

Hermione grinned, then said, "You know, I've never properly thanked you for the gift."

"I have your note to Draco. I was pleased you kept them."

"I never knew birds could show affection, but Delilah is terribly sweet. She didn't like Ron at all."

"They're quite intelligent," Lucius replied blandly, and when she laughed aloud, he joined her.

While they indulged their amusement, their plates were removed and their waiter stood at Lucius' elbow until he deigned to acknowledge him. "Ah, yes," Lucius remarked after a moment, "dessert. Hermione?"

"No thank you. I don't really indulge in sweets."

Lucius raised a finger. "Ice cream?"

She smiled. "I should've said I only indulge in manna from heaven."

Lucius chuckled. "No one can turn down manna from heaven. However," he said, while perusing the menu, "instead of something sweet, what about cheese."

"Maybe." Hermione leaned to look at the menu in his hands. Her face was so close Lucious could see past her glamour to the slight dent in her eyelid, where she bore the scar gained in his home. He cleared his throat.

"If I may...."

"Yes?" Lucius' stare was intimidating enough the waiter stepped back, but having had the effrontery to interrupt in the first place he took his chance and said, "I recommend the Crozier blue with saffron honey."

Hermione laid her hand on Lucius' arm, and spoke to the waiter. "I think I'd like to try that. Lucius, will you try it as well?"

"Yes," he answered, his tone brusque, but he stared at her hand, and allowed himself to be mollified while the waiter escaped unhexed. "I am unaccustomed to –"

She interrupted. "I know you are. I appreciate how open-minded you've been tonight. "

Sensing a hint of uncertainty in her manner, Lucius said, "I have thoroughly enjoyed myself, and Shacklebolt's reputation has escaped untarnished. The food has been excellent, the ambiance elegant, and the company ... incomparable." He leaned toward her, enticed by her heightened color, and he indulged himself by tucking an escaped strand of hair back into her coiffure.

Her eyes widened. "Are you flirting with me?"

"I believe I am. Are you offended?"

"I probably should be, but you do it so well."

He knew his smile was smug, but he thought it justified. "I do many things well, Hermione."

She leaned forward to brush his lips ever-so-lightly with hers. "That doesn't surprise me at all." And then she leaned back, having timed her kiss to take him by surprise just as their cheese and port were served.

Regrettably, at that moment, her wand vibrated and Hermione jolted upright in her seat. Lucius watched her spine stiffen and her professional demeanor slip into place as if a suit of armor had suddenly encased her body. "Please excuse me," she said. "They don't bother me unless it's an emergency."

"I understand." He hid his disappointment. Petulance would terminate whatever attraction was building between them.

Hermione rose from her seat, saying, "I'll return shortly. I have to find somewhere private to send and receive a message."

As if Summoned, the waiter was at Hermione's elbow. "May I be of service, Madam?"

"Yes," she replied, unaware of the waiter's openly admiring glance and flirtatious manner. "I need somewhere to reply to a –"

Lucius gritted his teeth. If not his life or masculinity, the man's gratuity had been significantly compromised.

"You were paged?" the waiter asked. "Right this way, Madam. We have a secure room available for such contingencies."

As Hermione departed, she turned her head and smiled ruefully at her dinner companion, but then she was gone.

Lucius narrowed his eyes and sipped his port, suddenly furious. While he had followed no agenda, except the one his subconscious and libido agreed upon, he was sulking like a spoilt child whose new toy had been taken from him. A toy he hadn't realized he favored.

He frowned.

Hermione was no toy. She was, however, an alluring, vibrant, interesting woman he was growing to like despite their history, her upbringing and his previously entrenched dislike. He pondered his attraction to her while beckoning the waiter and paying with the rectangular gold card Cromwell had assured him would suffice. When Hermione returned, cutting a path through the tables in the main room, Lucius knew the evening had reached an end.

"Please forgive me," she said without preamble. "I have to be in the Minister's office as soon as feasibly possible."

"As disappointed as that makes me, I respect the exigencies of your position."

She smiled, and it carried so much relief, Lucius knew the source of at least one of the frictions in her former marriage. "Thank you for that," she said, looking around for the waiter.

Lucius rose to his feet and retrieved his cane. "I anticipated the outcome of your conversation. We may depart as soon as you like."

"How thoughtful of you. Thank you."

Lucius followed her from the alcove, and smirked when he noticed the number of men giving Hermione appreciative looks. Pausing to collect their outer garments, Lucius draped Hermione's cloak over her shoulders, and he could feel the tension radiating from her rigid posture. Whatever reason she had been called to the Minister's office, it wasn't the result of a whim.

Crossing the street, Hermione glanced up at the All Soul's tower and remarked, "You were so right. Spindly is exactly how it appears." And when they reached the small and dusty room, Hermione faced Lucius. "I'll be honest with you."

"By all means." He braced himself; she was, after all, a straightforward sort of woman.

She narrowed her eyes at his bland response. "Despite some misgivings, I had a wonderful time."

"We are of one mind on this point," he replied, and leaned toward her, but Hermione was quick to press her fingers to his lips. "I really must go," she said, "and if you kiss me, Lucius, it will be neither quick nor appropriate in a public setting."

Rather than being offended, he chuckled. "Indeed, I hadn't planned to tease you." He didn't say, as you did me in the restaurant, but they both heard the words nonetheless.

Her fingers moved from his mouth until her hand cupped his smooth-shaven face. "Next time, I'll take you for fish and chips."

"I shall look forward to it. Godspeed, Hermione."

He watched her disappear in a whirl of red skirt and black cloak, and took himself to his manor, his library, and a very good cognac. He had a paradigm shift to reconcile.

~*~

Excerpts from a letter written to Rose Weasley, Ravenclaw, and Hugo Weasley, Hufflepuff, the Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, near Hogsmeade, Scotland by Hermione Granger, the garden, Grove House, Holmes' Chapel, Cheshire, England

Dearest Rose and Hugo,

I write this letter to you both as its contents matter to you both. I know there have been rumors in the Daily Prophet about my growing friendship with your friend Scorpius' grandfather.

In this case, the rumors have some basis in fact, although not those about the Imperius Curse. As if I couldn't throw one off by the time I was twenty! The truth is, I have been seeing Lucius, and not in any professional capacity, although I did consult with him on the recent Nott murder investigation.

.

.

.

I have already informed your father, so you needn't be wary on that score. Yes, Hugo, his reaction was as volatile as you might expect, and Rose, I handled it as well as you would have advised me. Your father will need some sympathy, although I'm sure his newest lady love – what was her name? – will be there to offer appropriate comfort, not to mention the counter-charm he'll undoubtedly need in the next day or so. And no, you may not share knowledge of that particular jinx with your Uncle George.

.

.

.

It's entirely possible my news isn't a surprise, and Scorpius has already told you of my dating his grandfather. If he hasn't, please do not blame him, as Lucius asked him keep quiet until I was ready for the news to go public. For a number of reasons we've kept a low profile, some of which you can imagine, but mostly it was because I wanted to tell you in person, and I wanted to wait until your NEWTs were over, Rose. However, events have conspired against my convenience, and forgive me for sending you an owl rather than waiting or coming to Scotland in person.

.

.

.

We didn't anticipate seeing Scorpius last weekend. Draco's illness was as unexpected as it was serious. I was very glad Scorpius could be at his father's bedside while he underwent this treatment. It would be unfair of you to hold your friend accountable when he's been so worried about his father.

.

.

.

In case you should wonder, I am, against all the odds, very happy. Lucius is considerate, abrasive, interesting, and above all, he listens to me when I talk about things which bore others to tears. I suspect it's this latter quality which I find so endearing, and refreshing.

And because I know this remains a sensitive issue, Hugo, Lucius and I have agreed to disagree about house-elves, although he assures me his are paid and treated very well. He's invited me to interview them at my leisure.

.

.

.

Do not worry, my loves. He is much the same man you met in Diagon Alley several months ago, and, please ignore reports to the contrary. Do not like him for my sake, like him for his own. I assure you he is well worth knowing.

.

.

.

I'll see you the first week of July, and Scorpius will come to Grove House as well. Draco will need several additional weeks of recuperation before he is fully recovered. Lucius promises to play Keeper for your pick-up Quidditch matches, only if I promise to admire you all from the sidelines.

.

.

.

Don't revise too much, and as ever, I send you all my love,

Mummy

~*~

He had seen her many times over the ensuing months, in moods ranging from crisply professional to teary-eyed distress to incandescent fury, and yet, the next time he saw her she was asleep. Hermione's hair fanned across the plump white pillows of her bed, several strands of grey twining themselves amongst the vibrant titian shades Lucius had first noticed on her visit to Azkaban twenty years before. He stared at her sleeping face, graced by morning light pouring through sheers guarding her windows from the outside world.

He visually charted the small constellation of scars on her face, resisting the urge to kiss the one dimpling her lower lip. She no longer concealed them when they were alone, and Lucius relished her show of trust. That he was there, in her bed, in her home, willingly, nay, eagerly sharing what free time she had was a wellspring of delight to him.

He wrapped a curl around his finger, and gently brought it to his lips for a caress, his eyes traveling around the surprisingly feminine room, which was nonetheless welcoming. The flowers standing in front of the fireplace were in magical stasis, their beauty never fading in the perennially fresh room. Although.... Lucius reached for his wand, set atop a nightstand, and without awakening his partner, he lazily charmed the pink gerberas. Yellow was a more appropriate accent to the pale lavender walls.

Hermione sighed in her sleep, and Lucius capitulated to his desire, bending his head to gently kiss the scar on her neck. She reached for him, a smile tugging her lips from their repose. "Mmmmhmmmm, Lucius."

Considering that invitation enough, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. "Good morning, goddess," he murmured.

Her eyelashes fluttered and her smile brightened when she opened her eyes. "Much better than a dream."

Tangling his hands in her hair, Lucius angled her head for a good morning kiss, but she balked. "One minute, love." She grazed his lips with hers before slipping from the bed as he growled in protest.

Of course, it was only a half-hearted protest at her odd quirk of brushing her teeth immediately upon wakening. The first time she had left his bed to do so, he had commented that a cleansing charm was faster, but Hermione claimed it left her teeth feeling filmy. Reminded, however, of her errand, Lucius swished and flicked his own mouth clean before dropping his wand back on the bedside table.

After several months -- although Hermione would say it had taken three decades -- Lucius had finally been invited to stay the night. He would be damned to eternity with the Dark Lord before he would jeopardize what he had gained in befriending and bedding Hermione Granger.

He stretched lazily and allowed himself a smug grin.

"Yes, yes, yes, you're a prime specimen of male virility," Hermione drawled from the door to her en suite lavatory. She wore nothing but a smile, and the morning chill puckered her nipples; Lucius watched her breasts sway enticingly as she crossed the room, a lascivious grin on her face.

Her enthusiasm for sex, specifically, for having sex with him, was as invigorating as the debates they entered about abstruse codes of law and wizarding culture. Sometimes Lucius wound her up just for the fun of seeing her passionate defense of whatever point she had been making.

"My dear, I was thinking no such thing," he said with feigned humility. "My expression of delight was provoked entirely by your charming company."

She narrowed her eyes, but willingly took his outstretched hand, and he reeled her in. Then, when she had drawn close, she reached out and tweaked his nipple. "Damn me!" he exclaimed, and Hermione's ring of laughter was like the peal of a church bell.

She slid onto the bed, under the duvet and into his arms. Her nose was cold against his neck, and he shivered, aroused and chilled simultaneously. When she kissed him, her minty taste was something he had grown used to.

He heart raced and he bucked his hips, his erection rubbing against the cotton of her sheet. Hermione was so direct in the taking and giving of pleasure, he knew she wouldn't keep him waiting long.

However, he was unprepared to feel restraints snake out from the wrought iron corners of her bedstead and wrap around his wrists and ankles. His tongue was busy, and he didn't protest, although he tested the strength of the restraints while she enthusiastically kissed him. When she broke the kiss, Hermione arched her back, bracing her weight on her hands, angled above him. Her tumultuous hair cascaded around his face, and lay atop his platinum locks.

She looked directly into his eyes and asked, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Really?"

"Yes, Hermione. I trust you."

She kissed him again, softer, less demanding, but then she crawled off him, fondling his erection in passing. He hissed encouragement for her to take further liberties.

"I've been reading," she said.

When he smirked, she tweaked his nipple again. Lucius protested.

"I'd believe that protest, Lucius, if your cock hadn't just surged against my hip." The white duvet bunched in a cumulus effect beneath her as she settled onto her knees beside him. Surveying his nude form, Hermione glided the fingers of one hand across his skin from the pale hairs on his calves, up over his kneecap, fingering a scar from a slicing hex on his left thigh, and then idly following the treasure trail in reverse until she grazed his pectorals and throat before placing a single fingertip on his lips.

Anticipation simmered in Lucius' veins.

"I want to try something I think you'll like," she said while leaning forward, across to her nightstand. Hermione grabbed her wand, and with a flick and a jab, the restraints tightened their hold, pulling his limbs taut. And they continued to tighten in an apparent attempt to lift him off the mattress. Before his confinement was actually painful, the first charm taught at Hogwarts activated, and Lucius' body became weightless, elevating him above the mattress.

He had been straining to hold his head up, and as Hermione's non-verbal Wingardium Leviosa engaged, Lucius relaxed into its hold, trusting her magic as he trusted his own.

"You are a very attentive lover," she said.

"This is bad?" he asked, and heard the sounds of liquid being poured.

"Not at all. But I want to explore you. To know your body as well as you know mine." Before Lucius could ask, he felt her hands on him, massaging the soles of his feet, his toes, his Achilles' tendons. Her hands were slick with some lubricating potion. It had stimulating effects too, he realized, as lust raced through his nerve endings from sensitive arch to groin to lungs and brain. Had someone asked whether the lubricant was magical or mundane his answer would have been that it didn't matter; it felt bloody marvelous.

As Hermione worked her way around Lucius' body, he tingled with unanswered need. His untouched erection bobbed for attention, as eager as the fifteen-year-old Lucius had once been.

When Hermione kissed him next, his tongue speared into her mouth, mimicking what he wanted to do with other body parts. She sucked his tongue greedily, panting with excitement when she pulled back. "You are so fucking sexy, Lucius. I want you in every possible way."

His voice dropped to a lower register when he spoke, not unaffected by her praise. "You shall have me, Hermione, but do you know what to do with me?"

She leaned forward to suckle one of his flat male nipples, flicking the little nub with her tongue, and when she sat back on her haunches, she grinned. "I certainly hope so. Have you ever had your prostate massaged?"

He furrowed his brow. "Not that I recall."

"Then you haven't," she replied, and picked up a small blue vial, pouring a viscous liquid onto her fingers. "You would remember, I assure you."

"And you would know this from your vast experience?" It was one of his sources of pride, the fact he was only the second man who had been in her bed. He knew she would be spoiled for any other after what they had already experienced together; not that he planned to let her go any time in the foreseeable future.

Her hands kneaded his butt cheeks, and then fingers dipped between them, pressing against the asterisk of his anus. Lucius went rigid. No one had ever been so familiar before. "Your prostate," Hermione said, as she wrapped the fingers of her left hand around his rigid, full-masted cock, "is inside you. It is vital to ejaculation."

Lucius' breath came in short, sharp gasps as she stroked him, and then he felt her fingertip press against him, dipping between his tight sphincter muscles. Lucius arched upward at the intrusion, but Hermione whispered, "Relax, love. You will enjoy this, I promise."

He panted, and her finger was replaced by a firm, vibrating nodule. "Oh, fuck me!" he exclaimed as the nodule sank into his anus, the lubricating liquid coating and easing its way.

"Yes, Lucius. I intend to, but I must taste you first." Hermione removed her hands from him, but her lips wrapped around his glans, and then she sucked, pulling his cock into her mouth as far as she could take him. The sensation of her pulling and the vibrating against his heretofore unknown organ caused Lucius to gurgle inarticulately.

Hermione grabbed her wand, cast a quick succession of spells, cleaning her hands, lowering Lucius to the bed, and releasing him from the bindings. The vibrations from his arse traveled along his erection, and he was deep into his own pleasure.

He barely noticed he was free to move until she straddled him, guiding him to her wet, hot quim, and then she slid down, but only a third of the way.

Yes! he thought. He wanted her impaled, wanted to feel the glorious friction of stroking in and out and in again.

Hermione's thighs flexed and she rose until the tip of his cock was inside her, but no more, and then she tightened her pelvic muscles, and Lucius groaned. Hermione leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his tight-budded nipples, her lips hovering over his. He flicked his tongue out to wet his lips and taste hers.

"How does it feel?" she asked, her voice low, insinuating.

"Unbelievable."

He suddenly realized he was no longer restrained, and his hands found her hips, grasping her tightly and pulling her onto him as he thrust up. The clenching of his cheeks tightened around the device in his arse, pressing it firmly against that magical organ and Lucius cried out as every nerve ending in his body fired off in excitation.

"Fuck!" he cried out, jerking in release; short, forceful thrusts up and into Hermione.

"Yes," she hissed, her word elongating on the sibilant. She tightened around him, so unbelievably wet, and then she reached between their bodies and pinched her clit, sending herself into spasms around his jerking, ejaculating cock.

She threw her head back, her hair tickling his thighs, if only he could have concentrated on the feeling it might have been arousing, but Lucius was floating in a sea of orgasmic paradise. His eyes rolled back in his head, and then, Lucius wasn't aware of much for several minutes.

Hermione removed the device, whispered a number of charms, some cleansing the toy, before snuggling against his side.

It took four or five minutes for the meaning behind one of the spells she'd cast to register, and when it did, Lucius jolted upright, or attempted to. Yet, Hermione was lying on his left shoulder and she'd pulled his left arm across her chest. The spell he so belatedly recognized had removed the glamour he had kept in place since the first time they had been intimate.

He had kept his Dark Mark concealed.

But now she was staring at it as intently as he stared at her. His heart pounded.

"So much grief, so much pain," Hermione murmured. Lucius tried to pull his arm away, but she held tight. "I'm not talking about what you did." She turned toward him. "I'm talking about what this mark has done ... to you ... to your family ... to so many others." Kissing him softly, she settled against him again.

"Why did you finite the charm?"

"I don't want you to hide from me."

"Do you think I'm hiding reminders of my sordid past?"

"You don't need to hide reminders of your past. I know who you are."

"Do you?" he asked roughly, sliding his arm from beneath her and rolling over, until he straddled her. "Do you really?"

She looked back, unafraid. "Yes, Lucius. I do."

He stared into her eyes for a long minute, and then catalogued her scars, and thought perhaps she spoke the truth. "What do you want, Hermione?"

"Just you."

He kissed her roughly, deeply, baring his soul for her, and then he bucked against her, his erection startlingly rampant for having just been so thoroughly depleted. "Open for me," he demanded, and as she complied, he thrust home. Hermione met him measure for measure, her ankles locking in place against his tender arse.

And finally, hours later, after she had fallen into an exhausted sleep against his chest, he believed her.

~*~

Excerpts from a letter written to Draco Malfoy, the Billiard Room, The Grange, Medstead, Hampshire, England by Lucius Malfoy, Master Bedroom, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England

Dear Son,

Your letter found us before breakfast this morning, and I have my wife's as well as my own affections to send to you and Astoria.

.

.

.

I certainly shan't ask you to refer to Hermione as 'Mum'. I shudder to think how she would react to such a request. You might consider it amusing, although you might bear in mind that the woman can throw a creative hex when the urge strikes her, as well you know. I have that on good authority.

.

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.

Yes, I will gladly accept yours and Astoria's congratulations. Scorpius already knows of my good fortune. He attended the ceremony with Rose and Hugo, and you needn't worry about legalities, Kingsley Shacklebolt performed the ceremony himself. You're quite right. I won't get out of this easily ... but Draco, I have no desire to sever my ties with Hermione.

.

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I suppose you could say I am happy, but that's such an inadequate word. In fact, I prefer the term content. I find, after all these years and thwarted ambitions, that I am content with my life. More content than I have been before – your existence and Scorpius' being the notable exceptions to the rule, and Astoria, of course.

.

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The rumors about Hermione's becoming the next Minister for Magic are entirely false, I assure you. As highly as I regard her, she is too forthright for such an office, although I believe she will serve the Wizengamot well when she takes her seat during its next session. Head Mugwump is easily within her grasp.

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We expect you and Astoria Saturday next for Yule tree hunting and dinner. Scorpius, Hugo and Rose shall accompany us, and Rose tells me Scorpius was the fastest flyer Ravenclaw had seen in the past twenty-five years – since his own mother flew Seeker for their team. Why has Astoria never mentioned her prowess on a broom?

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In the meantime, I add Hermione's regards to my own, and bid you an affectionate a bientot,

As ever, your devoted father,

Lucius

~*~

Finite Incantatem