Chapter 4

Ginny stood with her forehead resting on the window glass, looking at the swirling, gray fog that obscured whatever lay outside. She believed there must be some kind of magic to the fog, which was always there, curtaining the house away from the world and making the sunlight gray and otherworldly. She shivered a little and pulled her green robe more tightly around her.

After bathing, Ginny had discovered that the only item of clothing that appeared to be for her use was a robe that was hanging in the bathroom. Just the robe, not even a pair of knickers. The idea of touching Lucius' clothes was out of the question. So, Ginny had floated aimlessly about the chamber in her robe, flitting to the shelved books that she hesitated to browse, eating the food that the house-elves silently brought that was almost certainly drugged somehow, running her fingertips over the thick parchment in the desk drawers, composing ridiculous letters to her friends and family in her head ("Dear Mum, don't worry about me. Mr Malfoy has been most hospitable.") and staring at the fog.

What she was really doing, underneath all these things, behind these pretenses, was waiting. The fog outside that pressed on the panes of the window seemed to fill her head as well, making her thoughts as gray and otherworldly as the light. So, she filled the stretches of time with things designed to kill them and ignored her clouded thoughts and waited.

When Lucius entered his bedchamber, the girl was leaning on the large window to the left of the bed. Arms crossed to hug herself and head turned to rest on the glass, she appeared to be lost in contemplation of the fog outside. Lucius leisurely approached her across the room before he came to stand behind her. Taking a strand of her long, red hair between his fingers and twisting it idly, he said mockingly, "Were you waiting for me, Ginevra?" Biting her lower lip between her teeth, the girl took a deep breath and whispered yes.

"Hmmn?" he responded in a low, silky voice, full of cajoling, not letting go of the strand in his fingers but threading his entire hand into her hair and twisting it around his hand. Turning her to face him, her back against the window, he continued. "I thought you said something, Ginevra, but I couldn't quite make it out."

Color flaming hot in her face, the girl avoided his eyes and said in a small voice, "I was waiting for you, Lucius." Lucius made a sound of assent and pulled Ginevra's head back to keep her face towards his as he crowded her against the window with his body, undoing the sash of her robe with his free hand.

"Ginevra, Ginevra," he murmured with insincere inflection, relishing the game between them. He ran his free hand up the bare curves of her body underneath the garment, watching carefully as her jaw clenched and relaxed as she tried to control her breathing. He let her hair fall free and circled his hands around her waist and then down to her naked bottom. "Always so accommodating." He pulled her against his body. "So obliging." Clenching her more firmly against his erection, he continued to study her face before letting his hands skim over her again.

"I can't imagine the... hospitality you must extend under typical circumstances," he purred. He saw confusion flit across her features. "If this is the favor that an enemy receives, dear Ginevra, what succor must you offer a friend?" Lucius was pleased to see his barb hitting home as the girl's brow knit in consternation. Leaning in close to her, resting his face in her hair and speaking into her ear, he elaborated, baiting the trap. "If you beg me to make you come, what in the world must you ask of Mr Potter?"

He felt the tension enter her frame as he carefully schooled his features to a mask of mocking wonderment before drawing back to look at her again. Her brown eyes gazed unwaveringly at him, and she wore an expression of mingled fear and defiance. "I never let him fuck me," she said flatly, unhappily, pursing her lips together and worrying the bottom one, as he was discovering was a habit, but determinedly not averting her face.

Abandoning his jovial pretense, Lucius gazed back. She had stepped neatly into his snare, and he tingled with anticipation as the stakes of the game were raised. "Is that so, Ginevra?" he replied blandly. "In that case, I am going to take advantage of your special attention."

Ginny had tried very hard to keep her thoughts in order once Lucius entered the room, but she felt that she was failing rather spectacularly. She had no doubt that even on her most cunning day, she'd offer him little competition, but when his hands were in her hair, on her breasts, on her ass, there was no chance at all. She felt like she was trying to solve advanced Arithmancy after downing a generous portion of firewhisky.

When her mind finally processed the fact that Lucius was talking about Harry, she knew she should be very careful, but the exquisite tension she felt running and rippling over her skin like scalding water made her reckless. The real question he was asking was: Are you a whore, or are you my whore? And the possible answers to this potentially life-altering riddle seemed to break like a wave in her thought and drown her in memories as she sought to find the correct answer.

She remembered Lucius, towering over her small self in Flourish and Blotts, and her baby-fat fingers, smeared with chicken blood, writing in Tom's diary by wandlight, and Harry. Sweet Harry, with his fumbling embraces, and she, underneath whatever pleasure she might feel, unwilling to let herself go, to let herself be taken. Dear as he may be, how could he ever possess her with his guileless combination of dumb luck and good friends sailing him through the seas of his storied existence?

These forever thoughts were over in an instant as she looked at Lucius, still taller than she, but not quite as much. She recalled a funny saying from Muggle Studies: Tell the truth and shame the devil, and with no further hesitation, she did.

Part of Ginny wanted to think and examine the ramifications of the exchange that had just occurred. This part was overwhelmed by the rest of her, which was perfectly content, thrilled even, to find herself stark naked and perched in his lap. She sensed somehow that Lucius was pleased. Although he still tormented her unmercifully, making her baldly state her desires over and over again, the hard edge was gone from his teasing. Indeed, he seemed sardonically amused at the intensifying effect uttering filthy phrases had on her physical reaction. She offered her capitulation and her body to him giddily, and he accepted it as a matter of course, and she came shuddering and shaking in his lap.

Lucius knew exactly when the afterglow faded and the girl started thinking again. Her lax body, which was sprawled wildly across him, one leg tucked underneath her, one leg over the armrest and off the side of the chair, began to tense. With a hand on her chin, he prompted her to raise her head from where it slumped on his shoulder, and her face was nearly as red as her hair.

He found himself amused by this reaction rather than irritated or contemptuous. "There isn't much use in being embarrassed now, Ginevra. Perhaps next time you might take care not to shout so loudly that you'd like me to--" He pointedly broke off as her blush, which had been subsiding, flamed anew. "At any rate, I'm sure you recall what you said."

Lucius took Ginevra's hand and placed it squarely on the bulge in his lap. "I'm sure, as well, that you remember certain enthusiastic offers that you made that I generously offered to oblige."

Ginny's limited experience with the young wizards of Hogwarts certainly provided no clue as to why she had asked ('Pleaded,' a small inner voice suggested. 'Perhaps even begged?') Lucius to let her... And there, her lips clamped firmly between her teeth, her thoughts stalled until again that tiny voice helpfully spoke up, 'Begged to let you suck his cock?' Ginny squirmed in mortification even at the memory.

Indeed, this was what she had pleaded with Lucius to do, much to his startlement, and his wry amusement had only grown as he further prompted her to explain her lack of experience in such activities. And then, he had her elaborate on exactly how badly she wanted to, um, change that lack of experience.

And so, she found herself on her knees before Lucius in his chair, nearly quaking with an ecstatic combination of nervousness bordering on terror and molten sexual excitement, trying to remember anything she had read in Hermione's dog-eared copy of "Changing Bodies, Changing Selves."

A dry description of mechanics could never have prepared her for this. Her understanding of this act, with the performer in control and the recipient being controlled, had nothing to do with this reality. Lucius took her as surely and as effortlessly as he always had, holding her chin, grasping her hair, encircling her neck, and all the while telling her tersely what to do and how to do it.

Naive Ginevra Weasley, on her knees with the taste and feel of Lucius' skin on her tongue and the weight of him in her mouth, was experiencing yet another revelation. She abandoned herself to this, spit sliding down her chin, extending her tongue to lick delicately before Lucius slid to fill her mouth again, muffling her groans, relaxing her throat as Lucius slid to her gagging point.

While she was doing all this, she felt him watching her, observing her eagerness and excitement at being controlled, her shamelessness. When he started talking to her, telling her that he knew all of this...that she wanted it, she loved it, that she was a filthy little girl...she nearly died of the pleasure. He told her to touch herself, and she climaxed almost immediately.

Somehow, in her languor, he brought her to the bed and, on her side, boneless and sleepy, with him behind her, she absently enjoyed his grip on her hips and his thrusting until he came, cruelly sinking his hands into her flesh, causing her to surface briefly from the pool of sleep to gasp. She sunk down again, listening to him breathe heavily behind her.

She was gone by the time he extracted himself and stood by the bed, looking expressionlessly down on her as he pulled a sheet over her sweat-sheened body, and then left her alone.