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Hungry Thirsty Crazy	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 47434 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Author�s Note:� I am
FINALLY done with school for the summer.�
So, if the muse cooperates, the update schedule should become a little
more regular.� I also promise I�ll be
better about responding to reviews, since I know I�ve been dismal at that most
of the time.� I really do appreciate
everyone�s comments, more than you know.�
Thank you so much for continuing to read and support this
less-than-conventional fic! :)� On with the show�

When she woke he wasn�t there.� A brief flare of panic cascaded through
her.� Then she reached out for their bond
and sensed how close he was and how much stronger his presence felt today.� Her muscles unwound with relief.

He was just in the bathroom next
door.� The door was open a crack, much as
she�d left it the day before.� A thin
wisp of steam was emitting from the room.�
Apparently he was having a very hot bath.� He�d need one, as he�d been laid up for the
last two days.� The act of bathing was
also very powerful when it came to the process of healing; it was nice to feel,
if only for a quarter of an hour, that everything could be scrubbed away like
so much dead skin.

All the same, she knew she should
check on him.� He seemed to be a lot
better.� However, he was as talented at
acting as she was at absorbing copious amounts of information; she didn�t want
to take the chance that he was doing any of the more fatal things one could do in
a bathtub.� Like drown, bleed out, or
electrocute himself�not that there was any electricity in the villa.� Good lord, she�d watched far too many
made-for-TV movies on her summers off.

She ignored the little part of her
mind that told her that maybe she wanted a look at him in the bath for other
reasons.� If a glance of skin at his
ankle had set her mind racing a week ago, what would more of him do?� Absolutely nothing, she reasoned.� That was what she tried to tell herself,
anyhow.

Hermione got out of (his) bed
quietly and moved toward the loo door.� She really had been around him too long; sneaking around was becoming second
nature.� She hoped she had developed
enough subtlety not to get caught.�
Regardless, he�d gotten an eyeful of her when she had heat stroke.� It was only fair.

She peered cautiously through the
crack in the door.� The air that issued
from it was humid and sparsely scented with something masculine and
herbal.� Oh!� Merlin, why wasn�t he in the tub?� Sweet mother of
�

Her mind stopped.� He had just gotten out.� Water was dripping down him in dozens of
little rivers, forking in different directions, guided by the topography of his
muscles.� Oh.� Damn it, she�d forgotten a cardinal rule of male
desirability; most men who were in any kind of shape (and who had any semblance
of good looks) were a thousand times sexier when soaking wet.

She�d seen him before, after her
cold bath, but she�d been so tired and delirious that she hadn�t actually
processed what she saw.� No such luck
this time.� His hair was wet and messy,
some of it falling across his face and framing one permafrost eye that
thankfully was not directed at her.� His
skin was slightly pink from the hot water.�

His torso was toned and she could
find no defect on it save for the fact that he could use a bit more meat on
him; she wondered just how much weight he�d lost, total.� Robes could add a lot of bulk to a person, so
it was possible that it had been going on for a long time and no one noticed.� Well, she was noticing now.

Oh, was she.� He had shoulders to die for, broad shoulders
that fairly screamed for the nail-marks of a lover emblazoned in little
half-moons across them.� If he had hair
on his chest, it was so pale that she couldn�t see it from where she was.� However, her eyes were magnetically drawn to
the strip of slightly darker hair that drew a lovely line down his
abdomen.� She sucked in a breath, perhaps
a bit too loudly.

His narrow hips and strong legs
framed a rather impressive set of male parts.�
Whatever one could say about Lucius Malfoy, it was not that he lacked a certain endowment.� It was men like him that prompted people to
really enjoy the form of the human body.

And those thighs!� Muscled, long, athletic�she would have liked
to touch his quadriceps, to feel the group of muscles bunch and ripple beneath
her fingers.� He even had nice knees,
sturdy and symmetrical, not knobby like she sometimes thought hers were.� People assured her that it was all in her
head.� She was allowed a hang-up or two,
besides her hair.�

There were those tantalizing ankles,
also athletic; she noted the definition in his calves and the taut sinew of his
Achilles tendon as well as the smattering of pale hair that lined the smooth
skin.� His feet were proportional and
well-shaped, not too large or too highly arched.� Someone had really taken care in creating
him.� Or perhaps not, because it seemed
like all the defects had gone straight into his personality�

He turned, as if he somehow knew
that her appraisal of his front was complete.�
She hoped he didn�t.� He would be
a bit of an exhibitionist, though, wouldn�t he?�
She could say with some confidence that he probably enjoyed being looked
at.� Men like him thrived on attention,
because attention meant power.� She was
sure it had gotten him in trouble more than once.

This was not fair.� His arse made her
mind spiral away into a cascade of indecent thoughts.� She knew from reading that women were
biologically tuned to appreciate a fine rear end; back in the days of
cave-people, a strong behind was a sign of virility.� Since the main drive back then (besides
survival) was reproduction, this was an extremely desirable trait in a
male.� Well, it was safe to say that Lucius stoked her inner cavewoman.� Give her plant dyes and let her paint the
wall of a cave; she was more than happy to create the next Lascaux if it meant Lucius
was her partner in early humanity.

Bugger him.� From top to bottom, he was more or less
delicious.� It really wasn�t fair.

What
isn�t fair?

His thoughts intruded into her
mind.� The mental words were neutral,
giving away no hint of whether he realized she was looking at him or not.� Who was she kidding?� He always seemed better tuned to her mind
than she to his.� He might have been
listening to her entire prolonged stream of consciousness regarding his physical
assets.� That would certainly stroke his
ego, the pompous thing.� In spite of
herself, she smiled.

He turned, looking over his
shoulder.� �I know you�re there.�

Hermione was caught, and strangely
it didn�t panic her.� She opened the
door.� �I just wanted to check on you.�

He turned, apparently having no
semblance of modesty, although what did it matter when she�d already ogled
him?� Lucius
moved toward her, nude and lithe.� She
had trouble keeping her eyes on his face.�
He was a hell of a specimen.

�I assure you, if I was going to
off myself I would choose something far more inventive and dramatic than
drowning myself in the tub.�

�That�s not funny.�

His lips quirked
briefly.� �Perhaps
not.�� He appraised her.� �What is funny is how you tend to be so concerned
about my perversions, yet you are the
one peeping at me while I bathe.�

�I told you, I only wanted to check
on you.� It isn�t my fault you chose the
exact moment I arrived at the door to get out of the tub.�

�I am certain that if you
discovered me standing outside the door of your bathroom, you would attempt to
hex my balls off whether you were in the tub or not.�

Ooh, leave it to him to mention his
balls when they were right there, in
arm�s reach and definitely accessible to her errant eyes.� He had a rather nice scrotum, really, it
didn�t hang too low and � okay, that train of thought
had to end there.

�Well, I�m not suicidal,� she
pointed out, a tad peevishly.� It was
disconcerting to be having a conversation with him when he was stark naked no
more than two feet away.� The mere sight
of him would have jammed a lesser woman�s mind into a complete standstill.� She refused to feel bad for spying on him.� It was almost a given that he�d taken a good
long look at her when she�d been tormented by the heat stroke.

He frowned at
her.� �Neither am I.� Whatever happened�it wasn�t intentional.� As you said, I lost control.�� This time she heard one of his wayward
thoughts: If I was going to kill myself,
I wouldn�t botch it up�

She looked up,
straight into his eyes.� �Don�t even
think about it.�� Then she started to
pivot, intent upon removing herself from this strange liaison.� His hand around her wrist stopped her.

�I think I
know what wasn�t fair, before,� he said.

�What?� she
asked with some trepidation.

His hand
loosened and then his fingers trailed down her wrist and across the palm of her
hand with uncharacteristic gentleness.

That we can look�but not touch�

And it wasn�t
said with any arrogance.� Just plain and simple truth.�
Hermione turned her back on him, rankled by how perceptive he was.� And how hypocritical they both were�because they most certainly
could touch, and had on numerous occasions, be they invited touches or
otherwise�and if she had any kind of backbone, any speck of the courage Gryffindors were so famous for, she would turn around and
run her hands all over him, along the peaks and valleys of his flesh�

But that�that
just couldn�t happen.� Or so she thought;
as she once again tried to walk away, he flung his towel around her, caught it
with the other hand, and pulled her flush against his body.� He wrapped the ends around his forearms
quickly, giving her no room to budge.� So
they were back to this.

�Lucius--�

Am I so repulsive?

What?�
The question caught her off guard.

What defect do you find with me?� Besides the obvious?

�You�re
not�there�s no�� she trailed off, unsure of what he was even asking or
why.� She was even less sure of what he
wanted or needed to hear.

A moment
later he released her.� He turned away,
raising the towel to work the excess water out of his hair.� �Never mind.�

Hermione
couldn�t stop turning the strange encounter over in her mind.� Lucius had been
equal parts passive and aggressive.� He
almost seemed like he had been waiting for her to do or say something.� But what, and for what purpose, escaped
her.�

He was angry
at her.� She could feel it.� It was a dim rumble on the edge of their
bond.� She hated not knowing why someone
was upset with her.� She wasn�t psychic
and Lucius was making sure she couldn�t read his
mind.� He was as closed as a fortress
under siege.� The last thing he needed
right now was to be angry; that was what had set him off before, anger and pain
and grief.� Though why she should evoke
any of those in him was still a mystery.

A curious
thought occurred to her.� He was
attracted to her, and she was artfully avoiding his advances.� Was he�actually waiting for her consent?�
Her agreement?�
That didn�t seem like something he�d bother with.� But then she remembered the way he had
hesitated before he kissed her, the way he had waited just a fraction of a
second to see if she would pull away.�
Oh, and the anxiety in that shaky expulsion of his breath that danced so
pleasantly across her lips�

He wanted
her, but he wanted her to want him, as well.�
A part of him also staunchly didn�t
want the complication of any of this.� A
queasy pit settled into her stomach.� Was
it possible that in the process of all this�she was making him fall in love
with her?

Hermione
shook her head sharply.� No, that was
impossible.� He might desire her
physically, but she�d established before that he barely knew what love
was.� He was just trying to go about
satisfying his desire for her in a more chivalrous way � if trapping her
against his naked body with a wet towel could be considered chivalrous.� If it wasn�t one strategy, it was another.

Why did she
keep doing this?� Whenever he tried to
behave like a normal human being, she could only find ulterior motives in
it.� Maybe he really was trying to give
her a choice.� Maybe he just didn�t know
how.� Or worse yet, maybe she didn�t know how to view him�

She felt on
the verge of tears.� It was painful to
know that she was attracted to him, and even a little attached.� She had meant it when she told him not to even
think about harming himself.� If he
needed a crutch she was happy to be one for a while.� But love?�
What could she do if he needed love?

A tear
spilled down her cheek.� Everyone needed
love.� Those who didn�t receive it turned
out like Voldemort.�
Lucius had received precious little; perhaps
only the guilt-ridden spoiling of his mother, the demure support of his
ex-wife, and the unadulterated devotion of his son before age and consequence
hit.� She couldn�t deny him love, but
what would it cost her?

She lay in
her large bed, sniffling softly.� It
would be easy to engage in something intimate with him.� She already had, to some degree.� He�d bared parts of his soul to her that no
one else would ever see.� He trusted her.� Something told her that was no easy thing to
win.

Yes, it would
be effortless to give in.� It would be
insanely simple to cross those lines, to kiss him, touch him, writhe beneath him.�
What wouldn�t be easy was the emotion that came with it.

What was he to her?� A charity case?� A good deed?� An object of curiosity?� A social and psychological
experiment?� All
of them�or something more?

He wasn�t a
charity case.� She wasn�t letting him
have an easy go of it.� She held him
accountable for what he�d done and he knew it.�
Besides, Lucius Malfoy
didn�t take charity, and if he�d sensed even an iota of it in her, they would
not be where they were right now.

He was a good
deed, to be certain, and a definite object of curiosity.� But she suspected she was the same to
him.� Their mutual desire to understand
one another had been integral in making this happen.� And to some small degree, he was an experiment.� Or at least she�d come here with every
intention of making him one.� Now that
had mostly gone out the window.� He was
making all the alterations she thought to affect all on his own.

Lucius was changing, growing, trying to claw his way out of
the prison of his life�s cocoon.� And for
some reason, that thought made her cry harder.�
She hurt for him.� She hurt so badly for him�

She didn�t know
how long she�d been sobbing quietly when he came in.� The bed dipped as he sat beside her and, with
that same gentleness he�d displayed earlier, brushed her unruly curls away from
her face.

Please don�t cry.� Please don�t.�
I am not worthy of your sadness.�
I haven�t deserved anything that you have given me.

Hermione was
still, a little bit stunned and belatedly trying to calm herself.� She didn�t know where the sudden surge of
emotion had come from and it was proving difficult to quench.� His fingers were stroking her hair, much as
she�d done for him on the dark night of his firewhiskey
confessions.

When at last
she managed to regain a bit of composure, she looked up at him.� He met her eyes, a sad concern reflected in
his.� Her heart spasmed.�
Emotions be damned.� Consequences be
damned.� She rose up on her knees, took
hold of his jaw on either side, and kissed him.

All was right
for a minute.� His lips parted, stroking
hers sensually.� His tongue darted out to
meet its counterpart.� His eyes slid closed.� But then they snapped open, and he pulled
back as if scalded.

Hermione
blinked at him, hurt and confused.� He
was giving her the same look.

�You
cannot�you cannot keep doing this to me!� he said.

�Doing what?�
she asked, her voice hoarse from crying.

An expression
of pain passed over his face.� �You tempt
me!� You respond to me!� And then you flee�twice, full of loathing for
me�do you hate me?�� His nostrils flared
and his chin tilted up.� �Is that what
this is?� Some kind of
vengeance?� I let you in, let you
see me at my weakest�I dare to�care�and
then you spurn me, leave me more broken than I already am?�

Hermione�s
eyes widened.� �Lu--�

�Because if
that is what you are doing, Hermione, you are crueler than I ever was.�

�I would
never--�

�Or perhaps you�re
just here to do whatever is necessary to get me to remove the Vow,� he scowled,
the meaning of his words clear in his voice.�
�But you are less able to control your revulsion than you thought.�

Hermione did
the only thing she could.� She shot to
her feet, drew her arm back, and slapped him.�
Her palm cracked wickedly across his cheek, hard enough that it caused a
fair amount of stinging in her hand.� It
stilled his words.� She had actually
shocked Lucius Malfoy into
silence.

�Don�t you dare,� she nearly shouted, �do me the
disservice of thinking that I am just some vindictive bitch here to ruin you,
or that I�d resort to whoring myself to get what I want!�� Something very unkind was on the tip of her
tongue and she quashed it, knowing that no matter how satisfying it would be to
say it, it would wound him deeply.

�What do you
expect me to think?� he said quietly, absently touching the red handprint that
was blooming on his cheek.� She would
wager that very few people had ever been gutsy enough to do what she just had.

Hermione
thought for a long time.� She had caught
herself seeking ulterior motives in his behavior not fifteen minutes ago.� It wasn�t unexpected that he�d do the same
for her.� It was ingrained in him.� And truthfully, any man would be insecure after the way she�d left him�� She took a deep breath.� The words came to her, flowing past her lips
while her brain struggled to catch up.

�I expect you
to think that I am just as scared as you, Lucius, and
forgive me for it.�

His lips
parted, but nothing came out.� Then he
took a step back.� �I�I do not want you
to fear me.�

�I don�t,�
she said softly.

He nodded
slowly.� He looked supremely out of
sorts, and mentally taxed, as if he were trying to solve an impossible
equation.� Evidently he arrived at some
kind of answer, for he shook his head, once, as if a fly was buzzing at his
ear.

�I don�t know what you see in me,�
he murmured.� �I am just a wretched,
inferior husk of the man I used to be.�

�No!� she said, stomping her
foot.� Suddenly vehement, she took a step
toward him, her index finger raised.� For
once, she was the one invading his personal space and the slight furrow of his
brow said that he didn�t like it any more than she did.� Maybe that would teach him something.� But that wasn�t the point.� Impassioned, Hermione enunciated, �The man
you used to be is just a wretched, inferior husk of what you are.�

He blinked.� She could almost see the words swimming in
his head.� They were so different from
what he was used to.� She prayed that he
was ready to accept it.� The reversal of
mindset wasn�t something he could grasp unless he wanted to�

Something in his face changed.� It was very subtle and she couldn�t assign a
name to it.� But in the next minute he
was reaching for her, his hands closing around her forearms, and pulling her
across the remaining space between them.�
When her chest hit his, his hands abandoned her arms in favor of her
hair.� He wound, tugged, and leaned down.

This time there was no hesitation
and no question.� His lips slotted over
hers, soft and warm.� Hermione responded
without fear, allowing her hands to trail over his chest and her hips to lean
into the top of his thighs.� He was
tall�and then thought disappeared, for his tongue breached her lips, sought
hers, and tangled with fierce intent.

He wasn�t ceding any control
now.� His hand trailed down to the small
of her back and pressed her closer.� Her
mind flashed to its store of images of him nude, syncing the feel of his body
to her knowledge of the way it looked.� It
made her knees wobbly, or maybe that was his kiss�

She had never been a tremendous fan
of kissing.� It was a skill that was so
easily butchered.� She had never
understood how her school roommates could kiss boys for hours at a time;
Hermione could barely tolerate ten minutes of it then, and it wasn�t much
different now.� Parvati
Patil had once told her that the only reason she
didn�t like kissing was because she�d never been with a good kisser.� Every moment spent with Lucius�s
lips sealed over hers was proving Parvati right.

His lips were soft one moment and
aggressive the next.� It made her think
of what it would be like to have them elsewhere on her body.� And it must have transmitted to him somehow,
for his mind opened in a floodgate, locking on to hers and producing that
indefinable sensation of connection.� As
before, it made her gasp, and he took advantage by delving his sweet tongue
further into her mouth.� The warm, slow
heat of arousal flushed in her abdomen.

He felt it.� His hand went from her back to her buttocks
almost independently, stroking the previously forbidden flesh.� Through the fog of sensation it provoked, she
tried to exert herself on his mind the way she had during the storm.�

His mind was blank.� Blank and thrumming and
utterly focused � on her.� Euphoric, she pressed against its borders and
was rewarded with a moan against her lips.�
She was seized with the urge to tug at the fullness of his lower lip
with her teeth.� As she did, she felt his
breathing speed up, tickling warmly across her face.� That was when she knew.� This was the man that she could kiss
forever�if only they would let forever come�

Tiresias Smythe spun out of the floo and
tried not to be as disoriented as he felt.�
His body thought it was three in the morning. �Damn Lucius and damn
Italy
for being six hours ahead.� He didn�t get
much sleep as a healer as it was, and this thing with Lucius
was not helping.

He had only seen one other person
reach the level of rage � or was it despair? � that Lucius had attained in that field of sunflowers.� That person was dead.� She was dead, and he would never forget it,
for she was his first loss as a young healer.�
The first was the one you remembered forever.

Her face had been haunting
him.� Lucius�s
too, with the lick of flame in his eyes�he wasn�t right.� He was sicker than Tiresias
had ever imagined.� But he had Miss
Granger, at least.� He liked the young
woman; there was a strength in her gaze that few
people had.

He knew Miss Granger was competent
to care for him, but he was worried nonetheless.� That was why he�d come at this ungodly hour
to check on him.� The floo
was in Lucius�s room, so it was good that it was
empty.� Miss Granger had somehow
convinced him to be up and about, bless her.

He felt a bit better already.� He would go in search of them, and if they
weren�t in the house, he�d go home and go back to sleep until a more human
hour.� With that course of action firmly
in place, he wandered out of the room.

As he�d done many times previously,
he wondered just how much money Lucius had and where
it came from.� Only a very rich person
could afford a villa like this.� Hell,
only a rich person could afford his treatment.�
Tiresias never charged him for visits,
though.� Lucius
had refused charity early on and he let the man sign receipts that supposedly
charged him, but he didn�t really have the heart to take money from someone who
seemed to be a guinea pig to fate, regardless of the surplus he had.

Lucius
and Miss Granger (what was her first name?) were nowhere to be found.� There was one more room, down a short
hallway, that he should check.� He
reached out for the door, which was slightly ajar, and all of a sudden he felt
a persistent battering on his shins.

He looked down in confusion.� There, in a fine state of panic, was the
house elf.� The little thing was shaking
her head emphatically, panic in her eyes.

�What is it?� he asked.

The elf made a shushing noise with
her finger over her lips.� Then she
gestured away from the door, toward the common space.

�Is something the matter?� he
demanded.

�Master Smythe
must not interrupt!� the elf whispered.

�Interrupt what?� he dropped his
voice.

�The master and the miss is�� she
made inarticulate gestures with her fingers, �and Jo-Jo interrupted last time
and they were most upset!�

Tiresias
blinked.� If he wasn�t mistaken, the
house elf was trying to tell him that she�d accidentally walked in on Lucius and Miss Granger in flagrante
and was now trying to prevent it from happening again.� That was all fine and dandy, but if Lucius was not using protection�

He reached for the door.� The house elf squeaked in distress and tugged
at his pant leg.� The little thing must
feel very strongly about this, because most house elves wouldn�t dare to try to
force their will upon a wizard, or physically try to discourage him from doing
something.� For her sake, he only opened
the door a crack.

Hermione was all but
incoherent.� Lucius
was worshipping her neck, his mouth scoring hot little circles of pleasure
along the sensitive skin.� That was compounded
by his weight on top of her.� It was
perversely enjoyable to feel his body pressing her into the bed, and even more
so to feel the evidence of his reaction against her hip.

Then he did what she�d been waiting
for, unconsciously, for months.� He moved
a little higher, teased the border of her ear, and then slipped his tongue
in.� It was like lightning.� A full-bodied moan escaped her lips and her
low ebb of arousal was elevated to a thunderous roar.� Her body arched of its own accord, lifting
his weight slightly and pressing against him in a way that his mind told her
was quite agreeable.

His hands moved down her body,
stroking her sides, the length of her thigh, and one of them ghosting over her
breast.� The flat of his palm moving over
her nipple was almost as disarming as his hot tongue working on her ear.� Oh�the intensity with which she wanted him
was a little disturbing.

That devilish mouth left her ear
and was now trailing across her collar bone.�
When his lips met the obstruction of her dress strap, his fingers deftly
hooked beneath it and pulled it aside, slipping it down her shoulder.� She wasn�t wearing a bra; it was one of those
dresses with a built-in one, and thank goodness for
that.� He was kissing the space between
her breasts, his hand stroking the soft fullness of the left one.� She was going to explode.

Well.� They were not having sex.� Tiresias let out a
small sigh of relief.� However, it did
look like they were well on their way to that eventual goal.� As he looked on, Lucius
slid the strap of her dress from her shoulder and took the rosy nipple it
yielded in his mouth.� At her soft mewl
of pleasure, Tiresias stepped back from the door.

He had talked to Lucius about sex.� He
could still engage in it, but though
he�d listened patiently, the blond hadn�t shown much interest.� The medications could do that � they could do
any number of things � but he thought Lucius�s lack
of libido was purely psychosomatic.� This
was a good sign, then.

The question was,
did Lucius remember what he�d told him?� Did he remember that he had to use a barrier
to keep his partner safe?� Lucius was a smart man, but wizards didn�t normally use
those kinds of methods.� Smythe paced, aware that the house elf�s eyes were on him,
wide and petrified.

The suction and hot warmth of his
mouth felt delicious as he lavished attention on her nipples.� She tangled a hand in his hair, tugging at
the fragrant locks as his mind reflected her own pleasure back to her.� Her mind begged her to stop and think but the
drugging effect of their bond and sheer electric chemistry overruled it.

His teeth grazed over one of the
sensitive peaks and she gasped softly, �Lucius!�� His pale eyes flickered open.� They fixed on her, warm and intense, as his
tongue teased little stripes across her nipple, his balmy breath further
stimulating her.

Even though he was lying on top of
her, he wasn�t close enough.� She wanted
to feel him.� Hermione tugged at his
shirt, which he allowed her to divest him of.�
His skin was warm and smooth and created a most agreeable friction
against hers.� She gave in to her id and
dug her nails into his muscular shoulders.

�Yes,� he whispered softly, barely
an exhalation against her neck before his lips rose to cover hers again.� He kissed her hard, his lips domineering, and
she fought his tongue stroke for stroke.�
She was moving against him free from any conscious thought, her hands
roving across his arms, shoulders, back, and reaching for his buttocks.� She couldn�t remember a time when she�d been
so turned on.� The thought strayed across
their bond and a deep satisfaction flowed into her mind.� She was bolstering Lucius
Malfoy�s ego and for once she didn�t mind at
all.� In fact, she�d gladly do more of it
if it meant feeling like this.

Her body knew that he was settling
between her legs.� Every part of her
thrilled at that; it was where he belonged.� And his fingers, feather light, were
sliding the hem of her dress sensually up her thighs.� She wrapped her legs around him, ankles
locking at the small of his back.� It
angled her up so that his hardness, still contained in his trousers, could
press against her core.� His hips flexed
down of their own accord as he sucked on her tongue; her hands abandoned other
quarry to reach for the fastenings of the damning clothing that separated her
from what she wanted.

Her hand straying over the front of
his trousers gave him a jolt.� Her lips
were suddenly bereft of his and if not for the circle of her legs around him,
he might have pulled away.� As it was, a
tide of shame permeated their connection.�
It pounded in her skull in a dull, despairing ache.� He would not meet her eyes.

She surveyed him.� He was beautiful; his cheeks were tinted
pink, his lips swollen from their conquest, his hair a bit messy in a way that
made her unaccountably happy.� She ran
her eyes along the strong muscles of his arms, flexed as he held himself up,
and the perfect plane of his chest, which she had discovered did have a slight
smattering of pale, soft hair between the well-shaped pectorals.

�What�s the matter?� she said
softly, raising a hand to cup his cheek.�
It was the one she�d slapped; her handprint still lingered faintly on
the flushed skin.

The shame and mortification that
radiated from him made her stomach hurt.�
When he finally spoke, his face looked like he would welcome death.

�I�I cannot give you what you
want.� What you deserve.�

�Why?� she challenged.

�Don�t make me say it,
Hermione.� You know why.�

She wound her fingers into his hair
and pulled, forcing him to look at her.�
He fairly burned with humiliation, but didn�t look away.

Lucius�s
voice drifted to the healer, startling him out of his frenzied thoughts.

�I�I cannot give you what you
want.� What you deserve.�

Smythe
wanted to scream at him.� Yes you can, you idiot!� He was half tempted to floo
to his practice, root through a cabinet, floo back,
and throw a pack of condoms at the man�s head.� However, that might be something of a mood
killer.� Not to mention it would give up
the fact that he was standing here shamelessly and witnessing things he
probably shouldn�t witness.� Honestly,
the situations he found himself in sometimes! Such was the life of a healer.

Still, he couldn�t risk Miss
Granger�s safety.� If he had to march in
there and destroy the fragile magic, he would.�
He was rather good at dodging hexes. And once he thoroughly educated Lucius on what he needed to do to properly bed his young
accomplice, there would be more exhortations of thanks than hexes.

She searched his face.� In spite of the fact that his arousal had
flagged, she could tell how badly he wanted her.� The man she had known once upon a time would
have followed that desire and taken her, heedless of the consequence, perhaps
even reasoning to himself that she deserved it.�
This man had promised not to hurt her and was trying to keep that
promise at the expense of his own satisfaction.�
It was decidedly not Lucius.� Or, rather, it was a part of Lucius that she�d never seen before.

�There are ways, Lucius,� she said, feeling overwhelmingly tender.� �Didn�t Healer Smythe
tell you?�

Lucius
shifted his weight and lay half on top of her, his thigh resting between her
legs and his head on her shoulder.� He
twirled a corkscrewed brown curl around his finger.

�He did.� I�I was in shock.� I couldn�t�I don�t remember what he told me,�
he admitted quietly.

She ran her fingers through his
hair and his eyes closed automatically; he was like a cat in that way, easily
pleased by the stimulation.� She had
never met a man as sensory as him.� Every
touch, every scent, and every taste meant something him.� It was decadent and simple at the same
time.� Again, that study in contrasts�

I
want you so badly.� His mind�s voice
was frustrated and shame still lingered on its edges.� I have
not wanted anyone since I found out I had this plague.� But you�I want you, and you are the one thing
I can�t just take�I don�t know how to do this.�
I have always either been the master or the servant�I don�t know how to
be anything in between.

Her eyes widened slightly at his
confession, and at his unexpressed desire for equality.� He had come so far; so far, and he was not just scared, he was petrified.� He was being thrown into a reality where he
didn�t know how to function and she was his only lifeboat.

She wrapped her arms around him and
hugged tightly.� He gave a slight,
involuntary grunt at the crushing pressure of her embrace, but responded by
burrowing his nose and cheek against her neck.

�We�ll figure it out,� Hermione
said softly.� She slid her hand into his
and pulled it gently upwards, where she laid his palm across her breast.� �This is just a start.� Tomorrow you can floo
Smythe�and�and we�ll go from there.�

Tiresias
couldn�t fight the smile that wanted to overtake his face.� He wasn�t going to have to interrupt.� They both realized they needed to use
precautions.� Miss Hermione Granger was a
clever lady, and also an incredibly brave and compassionate one.� Most women would be too afraid of Lucius�s diagnosis to be anywhere near
him.

On the other side, it said a lot
about Lucius�s feelings that he was so worried about
the possibility of infecting her.� As a
member of the male species, Tiresias could attest
that sometimes the pull of arousal was so strong that everything else lost its
importance.� That would be especially
true of a man who had not felt desire or acted on it in three years.� But here Lucius
was, three years abstinent, able to control the bludgeoning throb of desire to
make sure the object of it was safe.� It
was more consideration than some perfectly healthy men showed.

Well, he could save Lucius the trip tomorrow.�
Smythe nodded at the house elf, who nearly collapsed with relief, before turning and heading
back to the floo in Lucius�s
room.

Her words hung between them.

�just
a start�

�we�ll
go from there�

Hermione�s heart was pounding.� What was she doing?� Never before had she leapt off the precipice
so carelessly.� Never before had there
been a precipice quite like this�

Intoxicating, but terrifying.� So beautiful�like everything she had ever
wanted, but packaged with damaged goods.�
Maybe after all this Lucius could break the
chains of the albatross pendant that hung around his neck.� Maybe there was some way for them to be
happy�

Them.

It was too late.� She was already lost.� His hand had slipped from her breast to brace
on the bed and he was looking at her, long and searching.

Us.

It was the only word that passed
between their minds before he leaned down to claim her lips.� ��

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