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"Woman" Series, HG/AW	By : Remarkable Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 45674 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to the Harry Potter fandom and make no money from the publication of this fiction.

Chapter List
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I can't seem to keep angst out of my story. I promise there will be some unusual, but good twists and I've really got a fire lit under my muse's butt right now for this story so I am going to run with it. Halfway done with the next chappy already squeeeeee!

Please Read and Review, they make my world go round!

A Woman (and Man) Bereft

Only a couple of more days until the end of the week; Hermione chanted this mantra to herself as she worked feverishly on the finishing up of her current projects. She wanted to be done by the weekend so nothing was hanging over her head that would keep her from her lover’s embrace. Shy smiles and a quickie over his desk served to warm their hearts. Hermione didn’t see much of her red-haired heartthrob, but he was present in her heart and mind at all hours of the day and night.

The small witch was so wrapped up in looking forward to the weekend that she completely forgot to avoid Lucius Malfoy, which turned out to be a huge mistake.

The snob had the gall to corner her in the women’s loo, warding it with a locking and silencing charm while she was still in the stall with her knickers around her ankles. When she emerged to wash up, he was already upon her, trapping her with his large frame and a silent Accio for her wand.

“Where have you been?” he hissed dangerously. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Have you made any progress with Severus?” Lucius was angry with himself. He’d so far failed to get Snape in a position so as to slip Veritaserum into the man’s drink. The cautious bastard still didn’t trust his food or drink out of his sight even for a moment, even going so far as to cast charms over food the elves had made from the Hogwarts kitchens to ensure they hadn’t been tampered with. Lucius fully intended to take his own failure and subsequent frustration out on her.

Hermione avoided his gaze despite the fact that he had her wand and was towering above her, hands placed on either side of her head against the cool bathroom tile of the Ministry loo, next to the Auror division, no less.

Yes, I’ve made progress, she smirked inwardly, and he fucked me over a desk in the potions classroom without as much as a by-your-leave. I wonder what you would say to that, Malfoy?

Instead she gave a noncommittal shrug, staring under his arm to a small scratch on one of the stall doors.

“You will answer me, witch!”

She cried out when his fingers grabbed hold of her face painfully, squeezing harder and harder until she swore the bones in her jaw would crack. Hermione attempted to pull his arm down from her face but he was too powerful for her small frame. In desperation she brought her knee up straight into his crotch. The built wizard howled, bending over to clutch his injured privates. In a flash Hermione snatched her wand from his hand. She didn’t dare send anything too powerful at Malfoy; the Ministry tracked spells very closely within its four walls. She settled for a nasty itching hex that had him writhing on the floor, hands clutched over his balls, skin on fire.

Her last mistake was turning her back on him without disarming and fully disabling the powerful wizard. A wandless Immobulus had her suddenly stock still, her eyes darting back and forth, hand on the door and wand in the other.

She heard rather than saw him mutter some counter spells to the itching hex and a minor healing charm. The water ran in one of the basins, than silence.

His breath came hot and heavy next to her ear; her eyes squeezed shut with a tear sliding down a cheek quickly coloring with finger-shaped bruises.

“You plead sorry so soon with fake tears? Tsk, tsk, young lady. That clever, insipid little hex is going to cost you.”

Lucius plucked her wand from her hand and tossed it over his shoulder, allowing it to clatter somewhere at the opposite end of the bathroom.

He silenced her but disabled the Immobulus. Hermione immediately began to fight and struggle against him but he only chuckled darkly in her ear.

“I do so love my ladies when they fight. That’s right, pet, fight me. Exhaust yourself so I can take my pleasure. You are such a succulent young thing. Tell me, how many wizards are you fucking?”

Hermione shook her head vehemently against his chest.

“Oh really? I find it hard to believe that a young, sexy witch with a sexual addiction would only be fucking one man. Come now, you can tell Daddy Lucius.”

Hermione blanched as her captor pulled her hard against his lean body, grinding his erection into her back. She struggled some more, twisting every which way before allowing herself to go dead weight in his arms, trying desperately to trick him into believing she’d given up.

Unfortunately for her, Lucius wasn’t that naïve and he took the opportunity to swiftly bind her, pressing her face tightly against the wall. More tears squeezed out through her tightly shut lids.

Lucius spelled the clothing from her body, leaving her suddenly hardened nipples smashed painfully against the wall along with the rest of her body.

“I’m going to fuck the insolence from you, pet. You will learn to obey me, and you will learn to love it. No one crosses a Malfoy no one, especially a filthy Mudslut like you.”

The witch gasped at his use of such vile language. She’d never imagined he was completely reformed, but for him to treat her so terribly was a blatant shock to her system. The rustling of fabric, a zip and his hot, thick member against her backside was sending involuntary shudders through her body.

“You love it, don’t you, nasty, nasty little girl? Sluts like you are meant to be used and abused. You will never be good for anything but sticking my cock into like the lowlife come bucket you are. God, I love how tight your sweet little cunt is around my cock!”

He shoved his entire length in her unprepared pussy with a harsh grunt, panting hard against her neck before thrusting shallowly, continuing his little speech.

“Mudsluts tell themselves they are better than everyone else, good and pure of intention, holding their ripe little pussies above a wizard’s head, thinking it a fine repayment for love and galleons and favors. Well, my little pet let me tell you something. No witch will ever have any such hold over a Malfoy. Ever!”

With that conclusion he took her tied wrists and held them above her head with one fist, the other curling in her ponytail as he thrust against her bare ass.

“So… Fucking…. Tight… Gods!”

With shock, she realized he was coming inside of her after less than half a minute of thrusting. His entire body was taut, crushing her against the tile. Biting her lip raw, she hoped against hope he was done with her.

“I’m not done with you, so don’t even think about getting out of here yet,” he panted, as if riding the train of her thoughts instead of her backside. After a full several minutes his breathing calmed, his softening cock hardening again while still embedded within her.

Hermione could feel his come leaking from her channel, down the inside of her thighs.

He must have finished with his initial monologue; from then on out he simply thrust into her for a time, almost viciously at first but then lessening his stroke, murmuring into her hair words she couldn’t quite get the meaning of. Strong hands left their grip on her hands and hair, sliding down the sides of her body to cup her bum. Lucius leaned back, spreading her ass cheeks so he could watch his cock slide in and out of her tight cunt.

“I love watching my come coating my cock, pushing it back up inside of you. Did you know that I own my own apothecary? Not many do,” he stated casually, pumping languidly and speaking as he would during tea.

Hermione wished she knew where this was going. At this time of day most of the staff would be gone. She’d already spoken to Arthur, and no one would miss her. To make matters worse, her body betrayed her, responding to his large size and the length of time he stroked into her. Lucius obviously felt it too, for he hissed his approval when a gush of fluid coated her inner thighs.

“Coming around, are we?” he chuckled, “No pun intended, of course.” He continued to laugh at his own joke. “As I was saying, I own an apothecary right here in the Ministry. In fact, I have a special contributor make many of the potions that are sold. It would be a shame if you were to take one that was not, shall we say, up to standard?”

Hermione’s heart felt as if it stopped cold when she realized that the only potion she ever bought from the Ministry apothecary was her contraceptive potion. She started to struggle again violently, her mouth working, vocal chords rubbing themselves raw against the silencing spell.

“Yes, Hermione, that’s right. Struggle for me, witch! I will fill your belly with my bastard and shame you if you do not do as I say. Bloody Gryffindor, if matters not if you do as I say. You will still be forced to come to me for support, won’t you? Such a good girl as you, the high and mighty Gryffindor, would never abort an innocent life, would you?”

Lucius dug his fingers into her thighs and fucked her brutally, forcing an orgasm from her despite the loathing filling her veins at his mere touch. She felt no pleasure from it, the act merely mechanical as the son-of-a-bitch got off on the idea of impregnating her, manipulating her for his own sick, twisted designs.

“You will be so beautiful, bent over my desk, full of my child. I will keep your fertile body under my protection, and you will get me the answers I desire, allow me sexual liberty, vow to sleep with no other man. You, my pet, my delicious Mudslut, are pure, unadulterated perfection and destruction. How I love this rapture you bring to my loins, pet, oh sweet Circe!”

The delusional aristocrat cried out, his deep timbre echoing hollowly around the cold room. The porcelain sinks and sterile mirrors bore silent witness to his completed consummation as he shot heavy jets of come inside of the small witch for a second and final time.

At last he finished, scourgifying only himself, setting a light timing charm to go off when he left the women’s loo.

Hermione slowly turned herself around, her body sore and aching from his invasion. It felt like he’d shoved a Quidditch bat between her legs and set it on “ram”. Even as his eyes fell upon her, his sneer spoke volumes as his come continued to leak from her pussy and down her thighs.

“Brilliant. Fucking brilliant. You really are the most amazing piece, Miss Granger,” he sniffed delicately. “Of course, you will tell no one. You have only to imagine the consequences of charges for hexing my person.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak and realized the silencing charm was still in effect. She sent him her most hateful glare. How dare he threaten her after he had followed and accosted her!

“You will inform me as soon as you confirm you are with child. I have great plans for you, pet. You’d best be quick with procuring the information I require as well. Let’s just say there will be more unfortunate circumstances if you fail me in any manner.”

Lucius pointed his cane in her direction to emphasize his point, poking her in the breast sharply before lowering the wards and disillusioning himself before leaving.

As soon as the door closed Hermione sank to the floor and burst into tears.

The weekend came and went in a flurry of activity. Arthur had forgotten to mention to Hermione he’d been called away for a Ministerial function with the entire contingent of department Heads. Oblivious to the fact he’d left her waiting so long in the chill and rain that she’d caught ill, he carried on with the last minute mini-convention, as was his duty.

Wives were required to attend and he was unable to get away to even send her an owl or Patronus. With extreme frustration the robust wizard begged off dinner at home with Molly that Sunday night, giving her an excuse that he needed to finish up a deadline at his office. He left her behind screaming he was a worthless, uncaring man to desert her when she had no one left at home to keep her company. Arthur had grit his teeth, squared his shoulders and Apparated straight to Hermione’s flat.

There was no light under the door. While early for her to be in bed, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. Perhaps she had gone out? After lightly rapping three times and waiting, he went with the latter conclusion, deciding against leaving a note simply. Exhausted, he reluctantly headed to his office to make it look like he had actually been there, picked up some random papers and apparated back home for a fun-filled night of nagging from his tiresome wife and a splitting headache.

Monday passed, Arthur anxiously keeping watch once it was reported Hermione hadn’t shown up for work or called in. His department had passed inspection with flying colors, but with a couple of renovations popped onto his plate at the Heads meeting, he had to stay and oversee expansion of three offices, updated tracking systems and the ordering of new equipment and uniforms. These were days he really wished he’d taken Shacklebolt up on the offer of a secretary, but he’d turned down that portion of the budget, citing his own support for cost-cutting measures which had earned him a hearty pat on the back and a whole lot of headaches the following year. He vowed not to make that mistake again.

Work ended too late for his taste, and he was ready to step into the Floo to check on his girl when the very same said Minister accosted him from the rear.

“Arthur! Just the wizard I wanted to see.”

Arthur wanted to scream. It seemed like anything and everything was keeping him from checking on Hermione.

Of course, he turned and graced the Deputy Minister with a broad smile.

“Hello there, Kingsley! Is there something I can do for you?”

“Oh come now, old man. There’s no need for formalities. Let’s say we pop off to the Leaky for pint.”

Arthur knew it wasn’t an offer, it was a command disguised as one. Kingsley didn’t mince words, and if he was taking time out for a pint, it was for business, not pleasure as the man rarely drank.

“Alright then,” he sighed, “but I best be home smart-ish or the missus will have me strung up by the ears.”

Kingsley laughed heartily and called out their destination.

When the two had settled into a fairly secluded corner and been waited on by a busty and smiling Rosmerta, who flashed an eyeful of cleavage towards Kingsley’s appreciative view, they cast Muffliato so they could talk more privately.

Arthur waited until the big black man had downed half his pint, wiping the froth from his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“This isn’t a friendly chat, is it, friend,” Arthur stated.

Kings shook his head. “I’m afraid not. You see Arthur; I’m a bit worried about our Hermione.” The big man studied his long-time friend and Order companion, now co-worker, noting the mild alarm that Arthur attempted to cover up by hiding his mouth in his drink, gripping the sweaty glass tightly.

“What’s on your mind, exactly?” Arthur inquired gently. Kingsley wanted something from him, but he wasn’t ready to give up the exact nature of his relationship with Hermione, just yet.

The Deputy Minister squinted just a bit, as if internally debating something of import. He downed the rest of his glass in one go and poured another, sipping the second one frugally.

“I’ve noticed our friend Malfoy Sr. taking an unnatural interest in Miss Granger, as of late,” he stated nonchalantly.

Arthur choked on his drink, sputtering some out of his nose, coughing hard. Kingsley got up and pounded him on the back until the other man had settled enough to resume their conversation.

“You okay?” he asked, concerned over the reaction his comment had garnered from one of his department heads.

“Fine,” Arthur wheezed, waving his hand. “Carry on.”

Kingsley steepled hit fingers over his drink, leveling a sobering gaze at the still-recovering wizard across from him. “As I was saying, Malfoy Sr. has been showing an abnormal interest in our Miss Granger. He’s approached not only me, but at least three other department Heads inquiring about her duties, daily routine, relationships in regards to other departments, and even if she were seeing anyone at the current time. Does any of this sound familiar to you?”

Arthur felt as If his heart were going to pound right out of his chest. Did he know? Did he suspect?

“I-I s-seem to re-recall Lucius approaching me about Hermione a few times.”

Kingsley had never known Arthur to stutter. Now he definitely knew Arthur knew more than he was letting on. “Please enlighten me as to the nature of these inquiries.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing much to report, Sir. He simply asked as to her whereabouts, and I’d responded honestly, that she was either out in the field working or I hadn’t known where she was, on that one occasion, over her lunch break.”

“Do you ever see Miss Granger outside of the professional arena?” Kingsley dropped casually.

“E-excuse me?” Arthur started to sweat. “Is it hot in here?” He loosened his robes, pounding down the remainder of his drink and emptying the rest of the beverage from the larger container to his own pint glass.

“Yes, it is a bit hot in here, but you seem rather flushed. Would you like to go for a walk?”

“I would like that, yes.” Arthur was on the verge of fainting. This couldn’t be happening, not now! Bloody hell why did this have to happen right now! He had enough on his plate trying to keep Molly off his back and Hermione happy without the Minister’s right hand man suspecting his liaison with a girl not only twenty odd years his junior and his subordinate, but the Golden Girl they’d all loved in some manner or another as a daughter over the years and watched grow up.

Waiting for Arthur to finish his drink, they paid the bill and left the pub, Rosmerta’s curious eyes following them out the closing door. She shrugged and went to flirt with another paying customer.

The leaves crunched under their feet as the two headed down a residential street. The lamplights had come on this part of Muggle London, shadows chased away by passing vehicles that drove by at slow speeds.

Arthur always thought it so ironic, the way Muggles never seemed to notice their odd manner of dress. Either that or they simply didn’t care.

The pair walked in companionable silence. Kingsley waited this time for Arthur to open up, but nothing was forthcoming. He took a deep breath and sighed, slight frost curling from his lips.

“You know you can tell me anything-“ he began, surprised when Arthur interrupted him.

“I can’t tell you this. It’s too important, and has nothing to do with the Ministry. I just- can’t. Please don’t ask. I beg of you, this one favor, Kingsley, don’t make me give up this one secret.”

Kingsley stopped and turned, grasping Arthur’s shoulders firmly, standing eye to eye, man to man. “Promise me this has nothing to do with Lucius hurting Hermione.”

“Lucius what? No! I would never harbor any ill intent towards her or anyone seeking to harm her either! Why in the world do you think Lucius would want to hurt her?”

Kingsley shook his head, pulling a big hand over his five-o’clock shadow. “I don’t think he’d actually hurt her, I have just never seen Lucius pursue someone or something so single-mindedly without a specific end-goal in mind. I think it’s in our best interest if we all keep tabs on our Slytherin friend. The war may be long over, but that does not mean his intentions are entirely honorable.”

Arthur nodded, his gaze sliding past Kingsley to a distant point in the inky black. “We should be getting back.”

That night Arthur stared at the ceiling of the living room long after he’d been relegated to the couch. It was obvious he was going to have to get used to sleeping on it for a long stretch. Molly wasn’t speaking to him; again. Thoughts fell thick like rain against the shield of his life, the one he’d spent so many years building. He loved Hermione so much. There was no doubt, no hesitation in his heart when he pictured himself with her. Was he willing to let her go? The mere hint of that future seared a raw path across his chest like a serrated knife. Well, that answer was certainly a resounding no.

He shifted, now facing the worn floral fabric a generation of Weasley’s had sat upon, enjoyed and made so many memories together snuggled together within its comforting cushions.

His talk with Kingsley left him with doubts in his mind, regardless of what his heart was telling him. Was he ready to give it all up? This house, the things in it; they were all just things. Possessions had ceased to mean anything when their home had originally gone up in flames during the war. He was happy to have most of his family alive and kicking. The one great sadness that weighed heavily was his beloved Molly. Was it wrong to want to leave her and start a new life with Hermione? Would his children hate him, never allowing him to see his precious grandchildren? His heart clenched once more at the thought of losing any of them.

He simply didn’t know what to do. That was why he needed, now more than anything, to have a serious talk with his lover about a future; their future together, as a couple, and if she were amenable, husband and wife. Arthur knew it was putting the cart before the horse. There wasn’t even a whisper of a divorce in his own house yet and here he was planning a new life with another. Grief beyond measure welled up in his heart.

“Oh, Circe, Merlin, anyone, are you listening? What am I supposed to do? Great Lord and Lady, please guide me, I feel so lost,” he whispered against his blanket. No one except the clock on the wall registered his sadness, which had turned from “Home”, to “In Danger”.

Indeed.
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"Woman" Series, HG/AW