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The Lover	By : soldiersgirl0709 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 8228 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to HP or the HP universe. Anything recognizable belongs to JKR and WB. I make no money from the sharing of this fic, only friends and smiles.

Chapter List
- 1-The Lover
- 1
The Lover
by: Snapes_Goddess

The moon was high and the manor was silent when he heard the soft tinkling of the wards placed on the private floo in his apartments. He rolled over and a whispered spell parted the heavy velvet drapery on his bed. His eyes were heavy and only half open as he watched the pale green light swirl and grow in the hearth as the connection opened. Within seconds she stepped through and he watched as the cleaning spell lifted the wild length of her hair as it dusted the soot from her person. She gathered the impossible curls in her hands and tossed them haphazardly over one shoulder as she stared across the room at the enormous bed dominating the space. It was dimly lit by the moonlight filtering in through gossamer sheers on the windows. He knew that she couldn�t see him hidden deep within the cocoon of midnight blue bedding but she knew that he was there. She always knew.

He saw the tiny smile lift the corner of her mouth just before she pulled her lush bottom lip between her teeth and began to slowly edge towards the bed. She thought he was sleeping. As if he could possibly sleep when she was present. He was so finely tuned to the sound of her breath, the smell of her skin, the taste of her kiss, to the steady beat of her heart that he could be blindfolded and placed in a room filled with women and he would be able to pick her out of the lot with no effort at all. She was bad for him. She destroyed him bit by bit, broke him down until he was unrecognizable and then built him back up again just a little bit different than he was before. Over and over again she did this and he never fought her. He was helpless, weak, and shamefully addicted.

With every step closer his pulse increased. His cock rising steadily beneath the satin sheets. He let his eyes close to mere slits, blurring her image slightly but playing into the ruse that he was sleeping. Her sent, soft and powdery, reached his nostrils and further stirred his desire for her. Young, innocent and soft; she was all of those things yet none of them at the same time. She was an enigma, an impossible puzzle, a mystery that he couldn�t quite solve. She guarded her secrets well yet revealed everything to him. He didn�t understand, knew that in all likelihood he never would, but he couldn't stop it. He didn�t want to stop it. Like any addict he craved that which was most destructive to him and would forsake all else for the taste of her.

She gathered the length of her simple cotton night-rail in one hand and drew the counterpane back with the other. How odd that a succubus should appear wearing something so simple, something so plain as cotton rather than silk and lace or even leather. She was the image of purity. Her hair long and tangled about her shoulders, her face and lips clean and unpainted with only a natural flush staining her cheeks and the virginal gown that draped over her curves to brush the tops of her feet.

She slid into the bed gingerly, careful in her movements so as not to disturb his 'slumber'. She stared down at him for several long moments. He wondered what was going through her mind as she eyed him with such a soft expression on her face. She reached out and gently brushed the hair from his face, rubbing the platinum locks between her fingers for a moment. She loved his hair and he loved the way she was always touching it, rubbing it and fisting it in her hands with pleasure. He felt the cooler air of the room brush over his skin as she pushed his blankets down, revealing his naked form to her eyes. He heard the tremulous intake of her breath when she saw the tumescent length of his erection pulsing against his lower abdomen.

The ends of her hair tickled when she leaned over him but the press of her lips just below his navel burned. Yet despite the heated reaction his skin prickled and he fought the need to shiver. He wanted to moan in disappointment when her lips lightly dragged upwards over his abdomen and sternum. He wanted to put his hands on her head and push her back down, to push the weeping head of his penis between her lips and feel the tight suction of her mouth. But he didn�t. Instead he lay still as death and waited, anticipating the pleasure that always came so long as he was patient.

Her breath touched his lips first. Then it was a light brush against one corner of his mouth and then the other. He could feel her hovering over him, her lips a hairsbreadth from his but never touching.

"Wake up, my beauty," she said softly. She always called him that. She always told him that he was beautiful. Her beautiful disaster. Her beautiful sin. It was both flattering and demeaning. Her lips pressed against his with hypnotizing gentleness. Warm, full and so soft as she pressed and rubbed her lips over his. Her tongue touched the sensitive seam of his mouth and he could do nothing but respond, parting his lips and allowing her access and himself the taste he craved. Sweet, hot and just a little spicy, the taste of her was an aphrodisiac. He brought his arms around her, stroked the side of her face and pushed the curtain of her hair out of the way. "I know you weren't sleeping."

The words were whispered against his lips before she drew her head back to look at him. The darkness hid his smug smirk for a moment before he quickly schooled his features and quietly spoke the word 'Celestia' and caused dozens of soft, twinkling pinpoints of light to shine above them in the dark canopy.

"You look like an angel right now," she said. He barely acknowledged her words, completely entranced by the witch hovering over him, her body cast in the silvery glow of the spell. "But you are no angel. Are you, my beauty?"

"Devil is more like it," he replied. It was the truth; he would be a fool to deny it. An idiot to try and pretend that he was a good man, a changed man. He was the same as he had always been....except when it came to her. He was obsessed with her. It had always been so. In the beginning he was obsessed with destroying the muggle girl who had bested his son at every turn, determined to bring down a creature arrogant enough to believe that she had the right to be considered equal to a pureblood family such as his. But then, after the war, after the carnage, after the smoke had settled it changed. He had retreated from public life, determined not to re-enter a society that had changed beyond his recognition. Then, by some twisted stroke of fate, he saw her in a little magic shop deep in the hills of Romania.

She was still just a slip of a girl, young, so very young. She lacked the social graces of an aristocratic witch, was awkward in her mannerisms and her dress. She wasn't a beauty by traditional standards. She was too short and lacked the willowy frame of a classic beauty. Instead she was compact and strong with soft curves. Her hair was untamed and she had a habit of twisting it around her finger when she was deep in thought or nervous. Her skin was a creamy golden shade with a perpetual flush to her cheeks that had nothing to do with cosmetics. And she dressed for comfort, fashion being the furthest thing from her mind. She was the antithesis of everything he thought he desired in a woman yet the moment he met her eyes he wanted her like nothing before.

Like a lovelorn fool he sent her a letter, tentatively testing the waters. Waiting for her response had been excruciating and when her owl came he had held onto the missive for hours, fearful of opening it only to find words of hatred and rejection. Instead he found an offer of forgiveness, the extension of an olive branch and the first fragile links of friendship. Letter after letter followed, and then a few awkward meetings. It had been torture to be close to her, wanting to touch her, to kiss her and not understanding why. Then it had become too much and he acted without thought to consequences and kissed her. He poured every ounce of his desire, his passion, his need and his confusion into that kiss. She fought him, freeing herself from his forceful embrace and when he thought about it he could still feel the sting of her small hand striking his cheek.

He wallowed in his shame that night, sitting alone in the darkness of his study, his head buried in his hands. Then he heard that soft tinkling in the hearth. The sound he had assigned to her alone. He didn�t hesitate to release the wards and allow her access and no sooner had she stepped foot on his rug did he fall to his knees. HE, the man who always felt that he was above her had groveled at her feet begging forgiveness. She had nudged his chin up and her eyes met and held his for several long, uncomfortable moments. What she was searching for he didn�t know but he would kneel there and let her look until the end of time if she needed it. Then she smiled, "Like this," she whispered, lowering her head and kissing him with a tenderness that nearly pained him.

And so he fell. Toppled by a little bit of a muggle witch when he had stood against one of the world's most powerful evils. But it was only for her. Only she could bring him to his knees. Only she could break him so completely, so beautifully. No entity on earth knew of his vulnerability, of his complete submission to the woman young enough to be his child. Not because he was ashamed of it, though. Because he didn�t want the world to see her as tainted by him. For once in his life someone else meant more to him than himself and he vowed he would always see to her care first, even if that meant his love for her would remain shrouded in secrecy for all time.

For two years she would come to him in the night when she was lonely or when she needed him. In the day they were friends, sharing their time together, conversing, debating, and never mentioning what would occur between them in the dark. Not once had they gone straight from spending time together to bed. She always left, returning hours after to join him via her private connection to his rooms. He should care, should feel insulted but it didn�t occur to him to care. He couldn�t offer her a respectable public life, not after what he had done, who he was, who he had been. Even the woman who had loved him from his youth hadn�t been able to bear the sting of life at his side.

It was alright, though, he didn�t miss her at all. That had surprised him at first; how little he had actually missed human contact. Especially female companionship. But in truth, he hadn't really noticed the lack of carnal activity. Not until her at any rate. She had changed that. He had become so 'on edge' that even the brush of his sheets against his skin was like torture. The warmth of his bath water felt like a teasing mouth, hell, the sight of himself naked had even begun to arouse him and he had never been attracted to men.

But things were different now. She had changed everything. She had invaded his solitude and his soul. Every time she walked away from him she carried off another piece of him. Soon there would be nothing left; all of him would belong to her. Oddly, he was fine with that. He was startled from his reverie by the sharp nip of her teeth on his chin, reminding him that she continued to hover over him and wanted him focused on her.

"I apologize, my love," he whispered softly against her lips.

"What troubles you, my beauty?" she asked.

"Nothing of importance," he said. He smiled and slid his hands along the curve of her waist. He began to slowly gather the fabric of her night rail, bunching it in his fists at her hips as he pressed light kisses to her lips, chin and jaw line. "Let's not worry about it right now. Let's rid you of this useless gown, shall we?"

She sat back, resting on her knees beside him as he sat up and pulled the gown over her head. Her firm young breasts swaying enticingly, their coral colored nipples drawing tight in the cool air of the room. The gown was tossed unceremoniously over the side of the bed, lost somewhere on the rug. She didn�t move. She stayed there, kneeling beside him with her back straight and her hands resting on her knees proudly displaying her body for him to see. Her long dark hair hanging over her shoulders, the ends curling around her breasts. For a moment he envied those curls.

He reached out and grasped a lock of her hair, slowly dragging it over her skin and watching as the curl hooked on the turgid nipple, clinging to it, stretching out before releasing and springing back into its coil. She gasped and he did it again, fascinated by the reactions of both the witch and her over-textured hair.

"You're teasing me," she whimpered. She sounded pained but he knew that his actions weren't hurting her, there was no way that they could. It was her frustration he was hearing and that had the corner of his mouth twitching with a bit of sadistic pleasure.

"Is there something else you wish for me to do? Something specific?" he asked, continuing to tease her unmercifully.

"Touch me."

"Where? How?" She pushed her hair back over her shoulders, sliding the tormenting curl out of his guiding hand. She grasped his wrist and pressed his hand against her, filling it with the soft flesh of her breast. Her nipple pressed against his palm like a little pebble and his mouth watered with the need to roll it against his tongue.

"Here," she said, guiding his hand over her flesh, teasing her nipples with the pads of his fingers. "Squeeze them...hard," she said, her cheeks flushing a little darker at the command. He pinched the little buds between his fingers, twisting and plucking gently as she closed her eyes and moaned her pleasure.

"Is this want you want?" He continued with his firm yet gentle ministrations while she moaned softly and wiggled her hips.

"Yes....more," she pleaded.

"More? How?" he prodded.

"Your mouth...suck me, hard--please!" Her hands threaded into the silky strands of his hair as he scooted towards her, resting his weight on his elbow as he shifted in and touched the tip of his tongue to one of the pebbled buds. Her hands tightened, her nails lightly scraping his scalp to urge him on. He kept the contact between his tongue and her nipple light at first. Tickling and circling the aching points, tormenting her and increasing her need until she was nearly sobbing in frustration. Only when his name slipped past her lips on an anguished cry did he close his mouth around her and suckle firmly.

�YES!� She cried, arching her back and pressing her breast more firmly against his mouth. She kneaded his scalp and held him close, sighing and moaning as he switched back and forth between the firm globes. She was so caught up in what he was doing to her that she failed to notice his hand stroking her thigh.

�Spread your knees apart,� he said hoarsely around her nipple. She complied, awkwardly shifting so that she could open her legs. His fingertips danced lightly over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, circling ever higher until they brushed against the short curls covering her sex. He stroked the swollen lips, lightly tracing the moist, tightly closed seam before spreading her to reach the slippery inner flesh. He slid his fingers over her, the hard pearl of her clit caught between them. She jerked at the sensation. It was almost too much but somehow not enough. He dipped his fingers into her; spread the honey that flowed steadily to ease his way. �Come here,� he whispered.

He lay back against the mattress and guided her over him. She threw her leg over his hips and moved to settle onto his erection but he clasped a thigh in each hand and urged her forward.

�Not yet, my love,� he said as he helped her move higher on his torso. When her bottom was settled on his chest he reached behind him and adjusted the pillows to lift and angle his head comfortably and then set out to arrange her. �Lie back,� he commanded, bending his knees for her to rest against them. �Now bring your legs up and brace your feet above my shoulders.� The position was something new to him, something he had seen in a book and immediately wanted to experience with her. She was shaking but he couldn�t discern if it was arousal or nerves that had her trembling.

She was positioned to give him a perfect view of her sex. With her shoulders propped against his thighs she was angled so that she could watch everything. And she did, her eyes wide and her lips trembling as she stared down at him.

�I�m too heavy��

�You are fine,� he answered, his hands curling around her thighs and tugging her just a couple more inches forward. �You are perfect.�

�I can�t�.my hands�,� She felt the heat of his breath on her core and her heart began to race, both anxious for the pleasure and panicked over the lack of control in the unusual position. She floundered for a moment before letting them fall to her sides to clutch at his hips. As soon as he felt her hands bite into his flesh he stroked her long and slow with the flat of his tongue. Her yelp of surprise quickly dissolved into moans of decadent pleasure as he stroked, licked and suckled at her sex. Every inch of her apex received homage.

She wiggled and moaned atop him, her fingertips biting into his hips as he pushed her higher and higher with his tongue. He teased her entrance with the pointed tip, rimming the tiny, pulsing orifice until she began pushing her hips forward in an attempt to impale herself on the slippery tormenter. His tongue was long, a bit rough and slightly pointed and it was never still. The deep sound of his moans vibrated against her flesh as she ground against his mouth, his tongue tickling and flicking over her swollen clit again and again until finally she went over the precipice and began to come against his mouth. He latched onto the tight protrusion and sucked gently through her orgasm.

As soon as the pulsations of her sex trickled to the occasional aftershock she forced her pleasantly weak muscles to move and adjusted herself so that she was astride his hips, his erection pressed snug against the wet, swollen folds of her pussy. She kissed him, voraciously exploring his mouth with her tongue, savoring the salty-sweet flavor of her own essence on his lips. She was moving against him, rocking her hips back and forth, rubbing his cock against her highly sensitized flesh.

�Take me inside, fuck me,� he whispered hotly against her mouth as he filled his hands with the lush flesh of her ass. He guided her forward, the tip of his erection easily fitting into the soaking niche of her opening. The scalding wet heat of her slowly enveloped him as he filled her, her weight taking her down the length of his penis until she had him fully seated inside her. �My god, Woman!�

�You fill me so perfectly,� she groaned, the velvety walls of her vagina tightening around him. �I need this...and only you can give it to me.�

The animalistic growl that erupted from him startled her and she found herself lying flat on her back beneath him, her hands pinned to the bed above her head as she stared up into the feral face of her lover. Her stomach began to quiver and her skin prickled with excitement and anticipation.

�I can give you everything if you would just let me,� he said roughly. He saw the way her eyes dilated and felt her grow hotter and wetter around him. He withdrew until only the very tip of his cock remained inside her. He hovered there for several, long seconds enjoying the greedy clasping of her flesh around him trying to coax him back inside. Then he gave her what she wanted, what they both wanted as he began to drag the heavy length of his cock in and out of her receptive sheathe. He closed his eyes and lost himself to the passion, to the unbelievable pleasure of fucking her body. Inside his head his thoughts were a jumble of confusion and frustration. He wanted her love, wanted her devotion, wanted her to belong to him body and soul and with every frustrating, disturbing thought he thrust harder and faster.

Her nails raked down his back, the furrows stinging as beads of sweat rolled into the injured skin. His ears rang with the sounds of her crying out, begging him, pleading for more as their bodies slapped together with a ferocity that should have brought them both pain. But it didn�t, it somehow brought them peace, satisfying the unknown need that brought them together like this again and again. They strained together, the sleek muscles of her channel tightening and the muscles in her thighs began to quiver as her spine stiffened.

�Please, oh please, Lucius!� she begged with a high pitched wail. He thrust hard once, twice, and on the third plunge, when her passion broke and she sobbed her release against his shoulder, he held himself deep and still inside her. Jet after jet of hot, creamy seed bathed her cervix, filled her, marked her. His head swam and his body trembled as he held her tight, refusing to withdraw until he softened completely and could no longer remain inside her. She comforted him, stroking his sweaty back and smoothing the damp tangles of his hair until he rolled to her side with a contented sigh.

�Stay with me,� he said softly, reaching for her to draw her against his side. She eluded his questing hands and sat up, moaning as she reached for her discarded gown.

�You know that I cant,� she answered as she shoved her arms into the gown and pulled it over her head.

�Yes, you can but you wont,� he said, twisting one of her curls around his fingers as he stared at her back.

�Same difference,� she said with a shrug as she stood and raked her fingers through her tousled hair. She turned around and stared down at him where he lay on the bed, his head resting on the pillow and his naked body cast in a soft golden glow. She leaned down, one hand braced beside his head as she pushed his hair back with the other. �Sweet dreams, my beauty,� she whispered as she kissed his lips lightly.

�Please,� he pleaded quietly even though he knew that it wouldn�t make a bit of difference. She said nothing as she turned and walked away, the soft tinkling of the wards telling him that she had gone and left him alone once more.

As always he was left staring into the twinkling lights in his canopy wondering what had just happened. The passion between them was something special. He had lived long enough to recognize that it wasn�t common to find what they had. Yet, she seemed determined to ignore what was between them and he couldn�t bring himself to force the issue. With a weary sigh he reached for the counterpane and drew it over his hips before plumping the pillow beneath his head and closing his eyes. Morning would come soon enough and the dance would begin all over again.

He didn�t know how long they would continue to play the sadistic game they found themselves in, but he knew that he would never be the one to forfeit.

A/N: Again I find myself needing a break from my current story�busy finishing up the edits and making a few changes before posting it over in the DMHG boards�hope you enjoyed it!

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The Lover