Chapter 17

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 beta AmyLouise.

Chapter 17

Tuesday, September 27, Evening. Cemetery.

The bright red sunset filled the cemetery with rose-coloured shadows as the sun slowly sank into the horizon. A woman's lonely silhouette lay on Ron Weasley's grave. Her chestnut curls spread across the granite stone, glistening in the tired sunset rays. Her petite body shook as she wept, and the thick granite stone greedily swallowed her muffled sobs and whimpers.

Hermione had come here right after her passionate encounter with Lucius. He had been determined to take her to the Manor immediately, but Hermione managed to convince him that she still had work to do. After a lengthy discussion, Lucius left, determined to pick her up later in the afternoon. The moment he left her office, she fled to the cemetery. She felt that she needed to be there.

Was it a yearning for forgiveness, a need for approval, or some sort of blessing that brought her to the cemetery today? Hermione didn't know, but regardless of what she sought, all she found was the same, cruelly silent grave, and a cold unresponsive stone. And thus, she lost herself in grief once again. She cried until her throat was raw from sobbing, until her eyes were unable to produce any more tears, until she was completely exhausted. Then she just lay there. The sense of time abandoned her. Her limbs became stiff and numb from the prolonged contact with the cold stone.

"Enough," a familiar baritone sounded from somewhere above, and at the same time, two strong arms lifted Hermione from the grave.

"Lucius," she whispered and clung to him. Here he was...warm, real, alive. His presence gave her everything she needed, everything she had been seeking. At that moment, pressed snugly against his chest, Hermione found the comfort and peace that she had been longing for. There was no point in denying or fighting him any longer. At last, Hermione felt content. Resting in the security of his arms and inhaling his spice scent, she finally let her heart calm.

Suddenly, she heard another familiar voice.

"Let go of her, Malfoy." At that, Lucius' arms embraced her even tighter.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Hermione turned and looked at her friend. His furious green eyes were fixed on her.

"I looked for you everywhere." Harry gave her a sharp glare full of accusations. "I thought maybe you needed a friend after the trial, but I can see you have already found one. And you said it was over?" Harry's voice climbed higher as his disappointment grew.

"I know what I said, Harry," whispered Hermione. She desperately tried to find the words to explain, the words that would help Harry to understand her.

"Harry, I..."

A calm voice interrupted her. "I think it is obvious that your concerns are misplaced and your presence is utterly unnecessary, Potter. You may go ahead and take your leave now. As you can see, Mrs Weasley is already taken care of."

Harry clenched his fists and uttered, with disapproval oozing from each word, "What are you doing, Hermione? Are you insane?"

Hermione slowly shook her head and whispered, "I am sorry, Harry. We will talk later. I am very tired now," and again pressed her face into Lucius' chest. In the next instant, she felt the pull of Side-Along Apparition.

Wednesday, September 28, early morning. Malfoy Manor.

The next morning, Lucius opened his eyes and was greeted by a luscious mane of chocolate curls. A soft curvy body rested peacefully in his arms. Hermione was still asleep.

Yesterday, she had been so drained that even before the elf brought the tea, she was asleep. The only thing Lucius had left to do was to provide warmth and comfort by holding her. He had hoped for other sorts of closeness last night, of course. Well, at least she was now with him, in his arms. Today, Lucius woke up full of optimism. He assumed that Hermione would be refreshed, full of energy and, he hoped, desire. A soft sigh announced her awakening and a minute later, her honey eyes found him, and she smiled.

Lucius drawled softly, "Good morning," as he watched Hermione carefully, their unfortunate morning from eight weeks ago being still quite fresh in his memory.

Hermione smiled even more brightly and answered, "Good morning," and gently traced his jaw line with the tips of her fingers. Lucius didn't require any further invitation. He launched his lips onto Hermione's with vigour, and she answered him with the same intensity. She tangled her hands into his hair and arched her body unto his. In one urgent move, Lucius threw the silk sheets open.

"At last witch, at last!" he rasped. His lips and hands began to map her body thoroughly. "Why did you let me suffer for so long? I have craved you so much." She mewled in response, trying to press her body even more into his embrace.

The lovers lost themselves in each other, and the music of Lucius' low murmurs and Hermione's soft moans filled the room.

"So delicious, so ripe," purred Lucius against her soft skin. "I need to taste you, witch. Open for me, Hermione, let me taste you. I am hungry and thirsty for you, witch. Open for me, darling, open now."

His mouth insistently worked its way down Hermione's body. With his soft coaxing, Hermione opened her thighs for him. Yet her movements were unusually hesitant, and a rosy blush crept onto her cheeks. Lucius glanced at her in confusion, and her eyes' bashful expression explained everything to him. The witch was young, and evidently, her late husband had not mastered this particular skill. With a low chuckle, he whispered, "Do not worry, my little bookworm. I will teach you everything." His smouldering gaze slowly trailed over Hermione's body, and the fire in his eyes almost burned her bare skin.

"I will teach you everything," he repeated, "everything I know." With that, Lucius dived between Hermione's thighs. The young witch's breath hitched as she submitted to his onslaught. Of course, it turned out to be a rather long practical session. Though it wasn't at all surprising...keeping in mind Hermione's thirst for learning and Lucius' willingness to share his knowledge.

Later, as an extremely pleased and sated Lucius basked in sweet exhaustion, he thought that their morning had indeed played out nicely. Hermione's voice, mellow after hours of intimacy, tore him from his light slumber with, "Hmm, something changed in this room... The colour, did you change the colour?"

"I decided to refresh the paint on the walls." Lucius lazily twisted her springy, chocolate curl in his fingers.

"Ahh, I see." The witch looked around before turning her amber eyes to him. "You have chosen a strange colour palette for a Slytherin."

"I needed something amber and chocolate around me." Opal flecks of affection sparkled in his silver eyes. "I missed you, witch," he whispered.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she slowly leaned to him, holding her breath and focusing on his lips. Alas, the next moment a clock chimed somewhere in the depth of the Manor, and she exclaimed, "Is this the time? Shite! I am late! Oh Merlin, I am terribly late for work, I have to run." And she attempted to jump out of bed.

Lucius' hands didn't allow her to do so, however. "Shh, you are not late; relax, Hermione. No one is expecting you at work today or for the next four days as well. I took the liberty of sending the owl to the Ministry yesterday. You are, my darling, on a much needed vacation until Monday." A smug smirk played on the wizard's lips.

"I beg your pardon, you did what?" Hermione's tone and the sudden darkness in her eyes didn't forebode anything pleasant, and Lucius frowned. "It's unbelievable. Who gave you the right to stick your aristocratic nose in my work, Lucius? Answer me. Because, as far as I am concerned, I certainly did not," Hermione rambled on, simultaneously trying to free herself from his arms.

The blond wizard did not budge, though. He just held her tighter. "Shh, I do not see anything wrong in my actions Hermione. You were tired, exhausted even...definitely not fit for work, and so I organized a little vacation for you. That is what affectionate and thoughtful wizards do, is it not?" He began to nibble at the nape of her neck. "And besides, the prospect of having you all to myself for five full days was irresistible, darling. I simply could not help it."

Hermione drew a sigh and tilted her head, giving Lucius more skin to nibble on. "Don't ever do that again," she muttered unconvincingly.

"I cannot promise you that," said the wizard. A loud grumble from Hermione's stomach gained Lucius' attention, and he stopped his nibbling, grunting, "I need to feed you breakfast, before the little lady here," and he gently patted the roundness of Hermione's belly, "hexes me for neglecting her mother."

"How do you know it's a girl?"

"I have my sources, witch," drawled Lucius arrogantly. Hermione just flashed him an incredulous glance and shook her head. Lucius snapped his fingers, and just a few minutes later, Wrinkly, a little elf, appeared at the door. He was holding a food tray and a teapot. Hermione gasped in surprise and hastily pulled the bed sheet up to her chin. Lucius smirked at her reaction, took the tray from the elf's nimble hands, and dismissed him with a slight nod. He manoeuvred the food tray between them, right in the middle of the large bed, and they ate.

Somewhere between a piece of toast with marmalade and sips of tea, Hermione leaned on Lucius shoulder and asked, "So, what's the plan?" Lucius carefully put the cup with tea on the tray and locked Hermione's eyes in his intent, silver gaze.

"We will announce our engagement in three months or so, and then, after six months you will become Madame Malfoy." There was a brief period of silence, during which Hermione battled with her temper.

A few minutes later and after a calming breath, she finally managed, "Aren't you just a wee bit too sure of yourself, Lucius?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Only as sure as a true Malfoy ought to be," murmured a true Malfoy in a soft, velvet baritone and sealed Hermione's lips with a passionate kiss before she had the chance to utter her rebuke.

At first, Hermione made quite an adequate effort to push him away, determined to give him a piece of her mind. However, all her attempts proved futile and, eventually, all her steam evaporated. Desire for a blond wizard engulfed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. His low growl of approval reverberated throughout the chamber. Once again, the symphony of ragged breathing, gasps, purrs, mewls, and grunts filled the air.

At some point, the music of their lovemaking was embellished dramatically when the totally forgotten tray with tea and food slid theatrically onto the floor. It met the parquet with a resounding bang, along with ding-dongs and peals. The lovers on the bed, however, didn't notice a thing.