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The Heirloom	By : soldiersgirl0709 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 18477 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. I do not own anything related to Harry Potter or the Harry Potter Universe. All things recognizable belong to JKR and WB. No money is made from the sharing of this fic, only friends and smiles.

Chapter List
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                                                                                CHAPTER TEN

                Ministry events were always a bit ostentatious in Hermione’s opinion. The money spent on frivolous details could be better spent elsewhere to help the wizarding community, but no one cared to listen to her. She had worked among their ranks for many years, finally realizing that she could do more good working on her own than within the organization. She sipped her wine and looked over the rim at the place card in front of her. Madame Hermione Malfoy. That damned announcement in the newspaper had made things far more complicated than they already were. And they were pretty damned complicated from the start.

                The marriage that was supposed to have remained a secret had spread like wildfire through society.    People had no qualms about questioning her on her marriage whether they knew her or not. Her first inclination was to tell them all to piss off; however, she opted for the silent treatment instead. In another three months she would be divorced—again—and nosy people would find another person’s privacy to invade.

“Hello, Mummy.” Hermione closed her eyes and counted silently to ten. There was no doubting the voice laced with humor.

“Draco,” she said, opening her eyes and facing him with a tight smile. “How are you this evening?”

“Oh, you know how it goes with these events,” he said with a shrug, “we come, we eat, we pay, we leave and everyone speaks of us as if we are rubbish while they happily spend our galleons.” Hermione wished that she could correct him, but he was absolutely right. His family still fell under the dark veil of suspicion yet the ministry did not hesitate to accept and use their money.

“Well, there are those that choose to focus on the flaws of others rather than turn their critical gaze upon themselves,” she said quietly. “Is your father here?” Why had she asked that?

“As a matter of fact, he is,” Draco smirked, “missing him?”

“Like a sore tooth,” she replied.

“It’s good to see you, Granger,” he said softly. “I mean that.”

“You too, Draco.”   When he walked away she left her table and moved out of the ballroom and into the corridor for some air. It was there that she found Lucius in the shadowed hall with a drink dangling from his fingertips.

“Good evening, Wife, how lovely to see you again,” Lucius asked, his voice laced with laughter.

“Why are you hiding in the shadows?” She asked as she approached him.

“Ah, well, according to most people we Malfoys are most comfortable here in the shadows,” he said, raising his glass.

“And you just go along with that? That seems a rather lazy way out,” she said, leaning against the wall next to him.

“Perhaps, but to be honest I am rather tired of trying to change these people’s impressions of me.” He looked her over, tilting his head to the side as he considered the woman before him. “You look pretty tonight.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. She was wearing an old gown, one that she had worn a few years earlier to another event. She couldn’t bring herself to constantly buy new gowns for these events so she recycled them from a collection of classically cut gowns in her closet. This one was an empire waist gown with a knot of gathered fabric between her breasts. The navy blue satin was a lovely contrast to ivory skin and it draped her slim figure in a flattering fall.

“Well, don’t we look like the epitome of marital bliss,” an obnoxious, high voice declared. Lucius closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. There was no disguising the fact that he was attempting to calm himself.

“She isn’t going to go away just because you wish it,” Hermione whispered.

“One can hope,” he muttered before he squared his shoulders and turned to face the interloper to their conversation. “Umbridge, there you are.”

“What, Lucius? Not happy to see me?” she asked. She looked like a cupcake in her frilly pink concoction of ruffles and bows. What sort of grown woman dressed in such a way?

“Did we have business that I was unaware of?” he asked, refusing to answer the question. Of course he wasn’t happy to see her! The woman had diverted the negative attention for her actions during the war onto HIM and his family, completely slipping through the cracks like a little puddle of pink, giggly slime.

“Oh, I just wanted to wish you well on your recent nuptials,” she said. She let her eyes run up and down Hermione, clearly judging her.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping that was the end of it but somehow knowing that it wasn’t going to be so easy.

“I confess, Ms. Granger, I am surprised that a witch of such high moral standards would allow herself to become so vulnerable to a man like Lucius,” Umbridge said coolly.   Delores Umbridge was a cold, cruel woman that enjoyed torturing and tormenting others.

“Oh? And exactly what kind of man is Lucius?” Hermione asked. She was irritated and took great offense to the way Lucius was being spoken of.

“I don’t think I need to rehash the past of your darling husband,” Umbridge said with an arrogant tilt to her lips.

“Oh, no, I need no rehashing of anyone’s past deeds,” Hermione said, edging forward in a rather intimidating manner. “I need no one to remind me of a weeping, pregnant woman sitting in the center of a court room being interrogated and cruelly taunted, or of ugly words being carved into the flesh of young children.” Umbridge’s face began to redden, her lips drawing tight and her eyes going wide. “MY memory is perfect; unlike many others I am not easily distracted from truth. I have a very clear, very accurate recollection of history.”

“Hermione,” Lucius said her name softly, his long fingers wrapping around her wrist as he tugged her gently towards him.

“I think, however, that perhaps I need to remind you of a few things, Delores,” Hermione said, her voice made no secret of her agitation. “Lucius and his family have spent YEARS atoning for their ‘faulty judgment’ during the war. They have donated more galleons to this ministry and this community than ANY other family in our world! And you dare to look down your pudgy little nose at him? WHO ARE YOU?”

“Hermione!” Lucius’s hold on her wrist tightened and she suddenly found herself jerked from the corridor and into a cloak room. Lucius dragged the seething witch to the back of the room, between the racks of coats and cloaks to where light filtered through a niche with a stained glass window.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, jerking free of his hold.

“What are you doing?” He sounded angry, as if she had done something wrong.

“She was being a bitch! She was INSULTING you, Lucius!”

“I know exactly what she was doing!”

“Then why didn’t you say anything? Why do you let them treat you that way?”

“Because it doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter what you say, it doesn’t matter what I do, they think that they know me and everything about me and they refuse to accept that maybe they are wrong,” he said. He had lived it for too long to believe that anything would ever make the difference. He was flattered by the little witch’s valiant defense of him, but knew that her efforts were wasted and he didn’t want to see her harm her place in society by further alliance with him.

“Lucius, you don’t have to take it! Stand up for yourself! You don’t deserve it!” she was pleading with him and it struck him that the witch was genuinely offended on his behalf. She meant what she had said, she believed that he was worthy of respect.

                In an instant Lucius had the witch in his arms, his lips devouring hers as his hands tangled in the long spirals of her hair, and the witch was responding. Hermione’s hands clutched at his shoulders, her body aligning along the front of his as they came together. It was like fiend fire catching dry tinder. One moment they were talking and the next they were devouring each other. Lucius fell back into the niche and pulled Hermione between his legs. His hands clutched her buttocks, pressing and rubbing her against the bulge straining against the front of his trousers. He wanted her. In an instant he went from flaccid to raging erection. His memories of being inside her had haunted him and from the night of their wedding he hadn’t dared hope that he would ever have the opportunity again.

                Yet, there they were, hidden in the back of a closet, tucked into a window niche with Hermione lifting her skirts and climbing onto his lap. Her knees found purchase on the stone ledge on either side of his hips, the split in her skirt falling open and baring her thighs. She reached between them, her deft fingers quickly undoing the fall of his trousers to reach inside and release the tumescent length of his cock. She stroked him, sliding her fist along his length once and then again before she shifted. Holding him tight in her grip she adjusted her body over him, pulling the crotch of her knickers aside as she lined the burgeoning tip of his erection with the opening of her body.

                When he felt the wet heat of her against his tip his fingers dug into her backside and he lifted his hips, pushing deeper inside her. It was then that their lips parted. Her hands came up to lock behind his neck as she leaned back and slowly began to undulate against him. Her sheath clung to him, sliding along his length like a smooth, silky glove. Her swollen lips parted, little pleasured whimpers escaping as she rocked and rubbed against him. With each rolling movement the swollen nub between her folds brushed against his lower stomach, the silky blond hairs below his navel tickled and teased until she began to cry out more intensely, began to move with more urgency. Their eyes were locked, neither willing to look away as they pursued the impending climax of their interlude.

                It was fast, it was furious and it was intense as their bodies slapped together in the silence of the cloak room. Their ragged breaths combined with breathy little moans and grunts as they rode the wave of pleasure that brought them together.

“Lucius,” she rasped hoarsely, the snug grip of her vagina growing snugger as she tightened around him as her release neared. It was a plea, a warning that she was going to come, she was asking him to take her there, to protect her and to keep her in that moment when she left her body in joy. Lucius clutched her tighter to him, lifting his hips and grinding against her, hoping to hold out long enough for the witch to reach her zenith. It was a relief to feel her body go stiff in his arms, to feel the pulsing ripple of flesh along his penis as her orgasm struck. He probably should have smothered her cry of release but couldn’t bear to deprive himself of the sweet sound. He held her shuddering body tight and pumped up into her several times before finally releasing his creamy tribute into her heated depths.

“”Oh…boy,” Hermione gasped as she rested her head on his shoulder. “That was…”

“A surprise?” Lucius offered as he struggled to catch his breath. Hermione lifted her head, her hands still twined about his neck. She looked at him, her cheeks flushed and a soft smile on her lips.

“You really aren’t so bad,” she said quietly.

“Ah, that is where you are wrong, My Dear, I am the boogie man himself,” he said.

“Well…you DID just defile me in a closet,” she teased, “and everyone knows that is where the boogieman likes to hide.” He said nothing as she pushed his hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. “No, you are no boogieman,” she said just before she placed a quick, soft kiss to his lips. She slid from his lap and pulled her wand from the garter at her thigh to quickly clean herself up.

“Well…I guess I am not sure what to say,” Lucius said as he righted his clothing.

“Why does anything have to be said, Lucius? We are two consenting adults that enjoyed one another’s bodies, we are entitled to that,” she said. Who was she trying to convince?

“I suppose we are,” he said as he adjusted his robes.

“Besides, we ARE married.” Lucius couldn’t help but return her smile.

“Yes, yes we are,” he said. Perhaps he liked the little muggle-born witch more than he thought.

                Hermione stepped through the cloakroom door and stopped when she saw Umbridge still standing outside. Hermione smiled, straightened her spine and smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. She was well aware that her cheeks were flushed and her hair was tousled, she looked like a woman that had just been well tumbled.

“Good evening,” she said sweetly, tossing her hair back over her shoulder as she walked proudly back into the ballroom. Moments later Lucius followed her, still smoothing his hair and adjusting his cravat as he stepped into the hall. When he met Delores’s admonishing gaze he cleared his throat, smiled and excused himself, leaving the viper to postulate on what had occurred inside that cloakroom.
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The Heirloom