Chapter 5

I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. Huge thank you to my betas...Glorioux and AmyLouise.

July 22, Cemetery, 7:10 pm

Something was obviously wrong with the girl. She was sitting silently on the ground near the grave, and the troubled expression in her eyes worried him.

It was their fourth Friday in the cemetery. Lucius was standing about twenty-five yards from Hermione; he had placed himself under the Disillusionment and Supersensory Charms. The wizard could see every movement of her chestnut curls and hear her breathing. Something had changed dramatically in the witch. He was trying to understand the problem, to detect the difference.

On their first two meetings in the Manor, she was vivid...heartbroken, of course...but still full of life. Her eyes showed a range of emotions, and she was so thoroughly absorbed in each and every one of them. If she were mad and angry, then it utterly consumed her. If she were concerned, then again, she was entirely engrossed in the feeling. This girl felt with every fibre of her soul, and nothing was half-hearted. It was mesmerizing. Lucius had never met anyone like her before. Never had he encountered a person so open and so genuine in everything. Even her attempt to bluff was delivered with the same wholeness; she honestly believed that she could pull it off.

"Silly girl," chuckled Lucius.

However, lately he had noticed that the girl was changing drastically from week to week. She looked thin and pale; her usual rosy-peach colour was gone. She was almost as pale as Narcissa now. Lucius didn't like it; it didn't suit her.

Her chestnut curls, on the other hand, became even more untamed and beautiful. Lucius flinched at this word, but as a connoisseur, he couldn't ignore a true beauty when he saw one. The only concern was that her curls seemed to be sucking the life out of the witch. They became more strikingly stunning, while she seemed to be slipping away.

The look in the witch's eyes switched between dreadfully haunted and maniacally determined. Both were wrong, in Lucius' opinion. Hermione Granger, as he imagined her, shouldn't show any of this. He was sure that a storm was coming, and the girl was at her wits' end. His only hope was that it would happen either before or after the culmination of their operation. The last thing Lucius needed was a hysterical witch on his hands and a bunch of murderous outcasts attacking them simultaneously.

Hermione's magical aura was changing too. It was swirling violently around her now, threatening anyone who would dare to come close. This too was a novelty for Lucius. He had never seen a magical aura of this strength around any witch. Something decidedly strange was happening, and Lucius needed to learn what it was.

Suddenly, his contemplations were interrupted. The girl was reacting to something, and Lucius focused all his senses on her. He could clearly see and feel the girl's natural reaction to the danger: her heartbeat increased and her body tensed, ready to spring.

Lucius was carefully scanning the area, looking for the cause. Then, he felt it too, the unmistakable presence of another magical being. Someone was near the girl, about six yards from her, hiding behind the monument. Once again, Lucius was impressed by the girl's keen senses. She was a damn good witch, with impressive intuition and perceptiveness.

At this point, he decided to move closer. Lucius was convinced that nothing would happen tonight; the villain was just checking the target and the area. The first time he and Hermione had noticed a foreign presence was on the previous Friday, but then it was just a slight shade, a trace.

Today was completely different. It was a strong presence and he could feel it clearly now. The girl was behaving according to the plan; she wasn't moving from her position. She was smoothing the stones of the grave absentmindedly, looking lost in her grief.

Thanks to the Supersensory Charm, Lucius could feel her growing tension; her pulse was beating in wild tempo now.

Presto, thought Lucius, walking briskly towards the girl.

He could almost feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins, preparing her body for action. He felt his own adrenaline level increasing at an alarming speed. He was only fifteen yards away from her when he saw him...the dark shadow was moving ominously towards the girl.

Panic overcame Lucius. He was still too far from her; he might not reach her in time if the scoundrel were to attack. "Shit, shit, shit," Lucius muttered, racing rapidly in the girl's direction. The scene in front of him was truly eerie: a cemetery in the twilight, the silhouette of a girl laid on the grave, and a dark, menacing shadow lurking near her...

Lucius Malfoy was highly displeased with himself. How could he be so foolishly unprepared? Swearing under his breath, he was rushing to the girl, watching the dark shadow worriedly. When he was almost near the witch; the shadow abruptly disappeared.

The threat was gone. Nothing happened this time, but it was far too close. The tension was thick and heavy. The girl jumped up the moment she sensed that the intruder had left. She walked quickly towards the cemetery's exit, paying no attention to Lucius. He was forced to hurry in order to keep up with her. She passed the cemetery's gate and, after a few more steps, suddenly became violently sick. Breathing heavily after all the running, Lucius (still under all these damn charms) stood there awkwardly, not knowing what exactly he should do, if anything.

"Finite Incantatem!" muttered Lucius.

After a few more minutes of hesitation, he came closer and pulled the hair away from the witch's face while she emptied the contents of her stomach on the ground. When she was through, the girl straightened up to Scourgify herself. Lucius was still holding her wild mane in his gloved hands and was somehow reluctant to let it go. Their eyes met.

Noticing the witch's slightly dazed demeanour, he snatched her by the waist, muttered, "We need to talk," and Apparated them both to the Manor.

The girl started to wrestle with him even before they had landed in the living room. The moment Hermione felt the solid surface under her feet, she resumed her struggle with full power. She was shrieking like a wild animal; her fists were hitting Lucius' chest with vigour. She was trying to utter something, but nothing even remotely intelligible was coming from her. She fully succumbed to hysteria.

At first Lucius was trying to keep himself aloof, but with each blow and shriek the girl delivered, his own composure was steadily slipping away. Then, when she slapped him straight in the face, he snapped. Lucius seized both of the girl's hands and, with an animalistic growl, pinned her to the wall, using his body to immobilize her. She was frantic, trying to gain her freedom again, writhing furiously under the pressure of his weight. In return, he just pressed harder into her and growled louder.

He moved instinctively, as a male with a dangerous, hysterical female in his hands. He needed to remedy the situation. Intuitively his mind knew the shortest path to stop the hysterics, forcing Lucius to act accordingly.

He was pushing into Hermione purposely now. One of his hands reached for a certain, vulnerable area of her body while his other hand, tangled in her hair, was keeping her face securely in place. He easily gained access to the witch's core; he wasn't a boy after all. After a few precisely delivered strokes, her breath hitched, and her eyes, clouded by hysteria, focused on him.

Lucius continued his skilled movements, while pressing his chest hard against hers. Hermione was moaning and twisting with abandon. Sensing that she was close, Lucius abruptly pulled her hair and bit the bare skin of her neck. Simultaneously, he roughly pinched and squeezed her sensitive flesh. This forced the girl over the edge, and she released a high-pitched scream.

It was over. The storm was gone and now was time to face the consequences. Lucius waited for Hermione to come back to reality, mentally bracing himself for remorse and anger. Eventually, her breathing returned to normal, and she looked at him, her eyes finally reflecting her usual self.

Hermione gave him an excruciating glance and whispered, "Oh, my God."

After that, she weakly pushed him off her and unsteadily walked to the fireplace, stumbling a couple times along the way.

The girl was gone. Lucius was standing in the middle of his living room, still in gloves and outdoor robes.

A cold shower and a sleepless night with the bottle of Firewhisky were in order.

AN - Right until late 19th century typical treatment for hysteria (or sometimes...female hysteria) was massage of the patient's genitalia to cause an orgasm.