Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Beyond the Veil -- COMPLETE	By : LaBibliographe Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 65339 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
- 14
- 15
- 16
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Updated 4-25-08
I love all your reviews. I’ve gotten a few ideas for additions here and there to this story, so thank you for helping me polish this tale. Lucius is a predator par excellence and he is nothing if not patient about going after what he wants. He’s relentless. Did I mention patient? I do hope my readers will be patient, too. You all KNOW I’ll get there – with a ‘’bang’. Meanwhile, perhaps you have something you could take for escalating anxiety? You don’t want Lucius to scare Hermione away do you? He’s making headway.
Some answers and comments:
meankitty69 – Eek! I don’t want to give you a heart attack, but Lucius is quite good at unraveling his uh, victims’ psyches, isn’t he? I have four cats – the littlest one has the best death glare. Probably compensating for size.
Crittenz – A healing charm, hmmm. Well, then the next couple of chapters couldn’t exist. Is it cruel to keep them (and you) waiting for the sex scenes? Authors can be truly mean.
tambrathegreat – Yes, a silver-tongued Lucius. He’ll use that tongue – later.
Rini - LOL…yeah, I think the world would come to a halt for me, too, if I ever managed to find my way under the blond wizard. So you’re a Regency reader, too. Have some more jargon: reticule, pelisse, fob, Prinny, barouche, Bond Street. I love Regencies!
jw – Hey, you’re writing part of my story. Mindreader.
angelprince – Yes, I knew you were from New Zealand. It has some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world. My sheep are the human kind, so I think you’re safe [grin].
LadyBlueEyes – The lemon scent is still faint in the air, but definitely there. Yes, Lucius is an accomplished predator.
Heidi191976 – Thanks! More coming up!
Utopia – Quack! I think Hermione will have to transfigure something for her personal hygiene. You’re right about the historical lack of amenities. I suppose you know your hair shafts are probably absolutely round. That makes for straight hair. Curly hair shafts are pretty flat. Hair comes in all ranges between, so wavy is on the continuum. The side-by-side position still needs butt muscles; theirs are extremely sore at the moment.
Clare1984 – HaHa. You saw the problem of sore butts before Lucius did, poor sod. Diagon Alley coming up. No, drool really isn’t too good for computers. But the manufacturers should have designed computers better I think.
Scary Bear Hair – Lucius might feel jealousy, but he wouldn’t open himself to any duels. He’s much more Machiavellian than that. Forbidden Forest anyone? Fixed the error. Many thanks! I hate errors, but after a while I just don’t see them.
pittwitch – AAARRRGGGHH – you’re so going to hate me. Please don’t cut my brake line, okay? I’ll get there. Truly.
Damiana – I haven’t read Richard III, but I’ve read other books about the controversy over his actions. Fascinating bit of history.
blue artemis – Lucius is feeding himself a line of bull I think. He doesn’t want to close the door on other female possibilities, but if he doesn’t watch out Hermione will slam it for him – on his c**k. Ouch!
datoichii – Lucius has Hermione in his crosshairs. No escape for her – or him.
sheherazade – We’re seeing why Lucius was always successful. He pegs others with an unerring eye. Hmm, I didn’t check the internet for post-thrashing positions. What would I look under? Haven’t a clue.
Ravenna – Diagon Alley is hundreds, maybe over a thousand years old. It was there in 1817 as Lucius and Hermione would know.
maddie50 – Knowing Lucius now owns a bordello, I imagine Hermione doesn’t want him going anywhere without her. I suppose that’s progress of a sort for Lucius.
Jesse – Thank you! And yes, Lucius just seems to be made for period clothes. Yummy indeed!
angelprince - Yeah, Lucius didn’t really like being a redhead. Excellent idea about Hermione’s bath. Now incorporated. Thanks.
And so Lucius and Hermione venture out together. A nice, long chapter...

Chapter Fifteen
Diagon Alley

Hermione was soon dressed for the street in her cloak, gloves, and bonnet and Lucius held out his arm for her to take, “We can’t apparate because I’m not perfectly sure of the coordinates for Diagon Alley in this time. We’ll have to pick up a hackney and ask for Charing Cross Road. We can get into the Leaky Cauldron from there unless London has rerouted the street completely.” He led Hermione to the front door where they both paused, getting a simultaneous influx in their minds for the word hackney - a coach for hire like a taxi - and looking at each other in resignation.
“I guess we need the information, but this is starting to get on my nerves,” groused Hermione. “Do you think a day will come when we have the entire arsenal of new words and these floods of knowledge will go down to a trickle? This invasion of our minds with historical facts and words is convenient but disturbing.”
Lucius considered Hermione’s comments rhetorical and he unwarded and opened the front door, guiding Hermione down the steps and onto the flagway. He began slowly walking, looking around for a hackney coach to carry them to their destination and found one on the next block.
The interior of the cab was musty with faint traces of stale sweat, the worn leather seats shiny with the patina of age, but Lucius briskly handed Hermione up into the conveyance, telling the jarvey to take them to Charing Cross Road and drive along it until he told the cabbie to stop.
It took only about twenty minutes for them to traverse the streets of London from their abode to the hidden entrance to the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road because they saw the magic place very quickly after they turned onto the street.
“Stop here,” Lucius directed the jarvey. When the creaky, old coach came to a stop, Lucius opened the side door and carefully stepped down into the street after first checking for unwelcome detritus. He put down the step and helped Hermione onto the sidewalk, steadying her slight weight with his hands at her waist, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. Was it enough? Too much for the ride? Lucius immediately knew it was called a groat. When the jarvey looked hopefully at the coin, Lucius figured it was plenty for their ride. He pitched the groat at the driver and led Hermione over to the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.
Hermione had to wait while Lucius checked over his clothing to be sure his neckcloth was straight, his coat hung correctly and his boots had retained their shine.
“My gods, Lucius, you’re worse than a girl. You look fine. I want to go into the magic world, even if it’s only for a few hours. Let’s GO!” She dragged on his arm and he immediately detached her fingers, smoothing the cloth again.
“The outward appearance is all most of us have to go on to determine our first opinion of a stranger. I want to look my best for our maiden foray into our own magical society. Your bonnet’s crooked. And one of your bootlaces is untied.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Hermione groaned, “No one is going to care if my headgear is off-center.” She straightened her bonnet the few millimeters Lucius was complaining about and retied her loose bootlace. “There! Now are you satisfied?” She glared at the blond bully who was gazing back impassively while she did as he directed.
Lucius studied her minutely, arms crossed, until he was satisfied with Hermione’s adherence to his unwritten dress code, then merely nodded at her adjustments. When he was assured no one was watching, with a twitch of his wand and a murmured “dissolvo”, he snatched up Hermione’s hand and placed it on his arm, walking through the dusty window, which melted away as they passed. A quick “duro” hardened the window to its previous form, leaving Hermione clutching Lucius’ elbow as they ventured into the Leaky Cauldron of nearly two hundred years ago.
Their tempers were mutually on edge, teetering sharply towards acrimonious outbursts at each other due to the twenty minutes of jolting nightmare they had just endured sitting on the hard cushions of the old coach as it swayed across the cobbles. Lucius and Hermione both could have sworn that the sadistic jarvey had found every pothole in London to drive over. Neither wanted to moan out loud, but two pairs of lips were bitten almost bloody from trying to hold back their painful reactions. The allure of spanking had faded a little for Lucius now that he was unfortunately familiar with Hermione’s powerful, young, wand-wielding arm.
Hermione, in turn, had never received such treatment before and not only was her backside heavily bruised, her feelings had been hurt, sparking a nasty bit of temper against this wizard who always took charge as though it was his right. He’d probably directed his mum on how to pin his nappies was one of her less charitable thoughts. She had every intention of enjoying herself in Diagon Alley for as long as she wanted before she was shut away again in that unpleasant house they were camped in, she didn’t care what her companion wanted. Now she knew where the Leaky Cauldron was and she could apparate there whenever she wanted. That brought a slight lift to her spirits and the first hint of smile she’d had all day.
The two soon navigated through the tavern smells of the Leaky Cauldron, rather wishing they could stop and have something to eat that wasn’t oatmeal or mutton, but both wanted some kind of relief for their sore hindquarters so they bypassed the food and hastened into the main street with all the businesses for their kind. Lucius murmured that once they had the ointment they could retrace their steps and rent one of the Leaky Cauldron’s upper rooms for a few minutes in order to apply the salve in some privacy. Hermione could hardly wait. Her butt was throbbing viciously from that coach ride.
The street was so little changed from their own time that Hermione was amazed, but she realized it made sense. Diagon Alley at the end of the twentieth century actually reflected this nineteenth century time period rather than the other way around. The storefronts were nearly the same, the businesses within them the same, and the people strolling all wore robes that she realized hadn’t changed much at all in the nearly two hundred years she was comparing. Wizarding society was so anachronistic it was spooky.
Luckily for their bruises the Apothecary shop was the first one they came to on the right. Hermione had definite plans to go on to Flourish and Blott’s the minute they got some of that ointment on their bums and was already planning which sections of the bookstore to wander through first.
Lucius led the way (naturally) into the dim confines of the shop, inhaling the fragrances of the myriad potions, salves, herbs, and all the other odd and unusual ingredients cramming the shelves in a variety of jars, pots, boxes and bags. He hadn’t smelled that unmistakable aroma in twelve years and it brought home to him suddenly how long he’d been locked away. The unexpected bombardment of all those essences on his senses was a poignant, sad moment for him. Never again, he vowed. Never, never again. Even if he had to learn to live among Muggles, he would never court another sojourn in prison.
Hermione trailed in after her ‘fearless leader,’ watching him quarter the floor sniffing and gazing all around him almost in wonder and she was hit by a stab of pity for the dark wizard who had paid so dearly for his political convictions. He was still a domineering autocrat, but he was also like a small animal coming out of its burrow for the first time after a long, hard winter. Hermione’s suspicious heart melted a fraction at the wizard’s obvious enthrallment with his surroundings. It must have been horrible living for years in a small cell all alone with no occupation besides some books of sermons, exercising and, uh, self-pleasure.
Lucius finally looked around for Hermione, seeing her standing just inside the door staring at him and looking a little embarrassed. He didn’t have time to ask her what flobberworm had crawled up her butt this time, because at that moment the proprietor appeared from the back of the store.
“Mr. Malfoy, how are you today?”
Lucius froze a second before he carefully placed the numbing ointment he had chosen, called ‘Sting Away – A Soothing Lotion for any Swollen Surface’ on the counter. How on earth? With a vague smile fleetingly touching his icy eyes, Lucius examined the storekeeper more closely. No, he’d never met this man before in his life. How could he, being from the future? So how did the man know him?
Before Lucius could find a way to interrogate the shopkeeper, Hermione came up behind Lucius and stepped around him to give the counterman a cheerful, “Hello”.
“And Mrs. Malfoy, too. You’re both out bright and early today. Will this be all?” The smiling proprietor wrote up the ointment in his receipt book.
Hermione grabbed onto Lucius’ sleeve, weaving a little in place, the look on her face an open advertisement of a shocking blow.
Lucius bent down and whispered in her ear, “Breathe, Hermione.” Lucius was shocked at the proprietor’s odd recognition of them also, but he was a little peeved at Hermione’s seeming distaste at being labeled his wife.
The little witch sucked in a swallow of the potion-laden air of the chemists’ and tightened her hold on Lucius’ forearm. “You know me?” she asked before Lucius could stop her.
The blond wizard’s lips pursed in annoyance, holding in his urge to shake her, both for giving away their confusion to this stranger and for not being pleased by being given the name Mrs. Malfoy.
“Well, your husband is obviously the new Malfoy heir. He has the distinctive features and coloring of all the Malfoy family. We all heard that you two would be arriving any day to take up the reins of your husband’s inheritance. Have I said anything wrong?” the shopkeeper asked seeing the look of consternation on both his shoppers’ faces.
The man suddenly looked enlightened, as if he had just answered his own question, “Oh, forgive me for not saying before how sorry I am about your uncle, Mr. Malfoy. He was respected in the magic community. We are all naturally glad that you’ve arrived to take over. If there is anything I can do to make you and your lovely wife’s transition easier – you came from, uh, um, Jamaica, was it? – just let me know. The man wrapped up the ointment and passed the package over to Hermione, while Lucius tried to pay him in Muggle money, which was all he had. The chemist didn’t take the coins saying he supposed they would soon need to visit Gringotts to exchange their funds, but the goblins had opened accounts for them all over and he would just put the ointment on their running bill.
Lucius was totally nonplussed about the very strange information the shopkeeper had volunteered, but felt he should try to get a bit more out of the man if he could do it without raising suspicions. “As we are so new here, can you tell me who, besides yourself, has been notified of our arrival? I was not aware that knowledge of our presence was so widespread.” Lucius took the package from Hermione and tucked it into his cape pocket.
“Oh, as to that,” the shopkeeper beamed, “pretty much all the businesses in Diagon Alley were alerted by Gringotts. The Wizarding Bank wanted you both to have these open accounts with all of us to make your transition easier. It’s not easy taking up the entire Malfoy estate and fortune. I think the goblins were the instigators on behalf of the estate solicitors. Nesbitt and Ridge did all your uncle’s legal work.”
“Thank you, Mr…?” Lucius trailed off graciously, waiting for the shopkeeper’s name.
“Seth Busby. I’m the chemist and potions master. If you need anything an owl can reach me day or night. I keep eagle owls who can carry heavier packages.”
“Thank you, Mr.Busby. If you would be so good as to direct me to the offices of Nesbitt and Ridge? So far all our correspondence has been by owl,” Lucius lied smoothly, making Hermione wonder what slick lies he’d told <I>her</I>, with his honest-sounding words.
“Of course,” Busby replied, pointing out his window, “Just go on down the street, then branch off to the right. Their offices are tucked in just behind Gringott’s Wizarding Bank. They have a sign out on the street. Turn in when you come to it.
Lucius nodded his thanks, took hold of Hermione’s arm and propelled her from the apothecary’s before she could ask any more revealing questions.
“You needn’t hustle me out of the place, Lucius. I asked a very pertinent question.” Hermione tried to dislodge Lucius’ long fingers from her upper arm, but only succeeded in gaining a few new bruises to match the ones on her bum.
“You didn’t know it was going to be pertinent. You asked the question before you thought. I’m beginning to think I’ll have to resort to more strenuous methods of teaching you reticence. Try, if you can, to think of us as spies in a war zone. We need to be constantly vigilant until we discern just how and why we have been slotted into this time period. Each new experience gets more bizarre,” Lucius retorted as he turned not in the direction of the solicitors, but back toward the Leaky Cauldron.
“When have I been thoughtless?” Hermione gave up pulling on her arm and trotted along beside the wizard on her shorter legs until she puffed, “Please slow down, Lucius. Remember trying to be a gentleman?” She grumbled under her breath so he could hear, “I may need reticence, but you need manners.”
“When have you been thoughtless? Let me count the ways. Screeching at the top of your lungs in a strange meadow with who knows what or whom listening. Talking about wands and obliviation when we arrived in the city.”
“I whispered, Lucius. I didn’t say anything loudly,” Hermione felt he was being unfair about her natural reactions to the new environment they found themselves in.
“Trying to ‘reparo’ a quilt that would have been extremely hard to explain later. Almost calling me by my name in the brothel when I was supposed to be a stranger come to… well, to enjoy you.” Lucius glared at his companion, but he did moderate his paces to match her smaller ones, “Shall I go on?”
Hermione sniffed, “Except for the question just now, there wasn’t another incident and you know it.” She cocked her head at the impatient wizard daring him to name another instance as they hurried along.
Lucius slowed and suddenly smiled and it felt like sunlight shining down on her, “No, there wasn’t another case to mention, but you have to be more careful. We don’t know who we are, but we are obviously particular people in this place. Can you let me take the reins for now and just playact the meek wife? There will be plenty of time later for you to show your true tigress stripes.” Lucius chuckled at his small joke about her butt welts, receiving in return only a slight twitching of her lips, but he was encouraged by her slight conciliating reaction. They arrived at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and opened the brick wall back into the tavern.
“I want to rent a room for this,” and Lucius held up the ointment package then stowed it again.
“Oh, Gods, yes. Please hurry. Every swish of my skirt abrades my welts. Did you have to hit me so hard?” Hermione held out the material of her dress and cloak away from her body in a fruitless attempt to minimize the constant friction assailing her butt.
“Just think what it’s like wearing tight pantaloons. And I don’t remember exactly how hard I hit you to be truthful, I was so enraged. Did you have to hit me so hard? I’m not used to that any more and it hurt much more than it was supposed to.”
“ ‘Any more’? You were used to being smacked with a wand before prison or in prison? Why?”
The question had to hang in limbo while Lucius gained the attention of the bartender and paid for a room upstairs. The bartender looked at Hermione and then gave Lucius a man-to-man leer, which Lucius volleyed with a superior, icy look of his own, “I don’t appreciate your ogling my wife.”
The bartender merely looked disappointed, and turned away to draw an ale for a barfly at the far end of the counter.
“Cheeky arsehole,” Lucius groused, “maybe I can buy the Leaky Cauldron and serve him his notice.”
“You aren’t rich yet, Lucius. This isn’t the Golden Camelot Suites, you know. It’s basically a bar with convenient rooms for dallying and it was only marginally better in our time. What did you think the man was going to assume? And why are you perpetuating the idea of me being your wife?” Hermione was now the one pulling on her companion. “Hurry up, I want that ointment on me as fast as….um,…” She suddenly stalled, a rather weird amalgamation of trepidation and relish flowing like an electric current across her expressive face.
“Have you just now figured out that it will be difficult for you to self-apply the ointment on all your lashes without completely numbing your hands, too?” Lucius’ quizzical smile bloomed in amusement. “I’ll do it, and then you can do me. My butt feels like it’s roasting in the sixth level of hell.”
“I think you’re one level off. I wouldn’t have called you a sixth level heretic. Your arse is probably boiling in its own blood just like the dead souls who were ‘violent against their neighbors’ in the seventh level of hell. And how do you know about Muggle texts on religion?” Hermione followed Lucius up the worn, bare wood stairs to the second floor.
"Dante’s Inferno appealed to me because I always liked the idea of all those Muggles doomed to their idea of a hell. But you likely only made it to the fifth level, being both ‘wrathful and sullen’ for ten years as you wallowed in your own pity.” Lucius riposted, enjoying the banter.
Hermione glared, “You certainly found enough to admire about your enemy’s literature while trying your best to eliminate him. And I was not wrathful and sullen. I…I was hurt and tired of all the unending trials of your war and its aftermath. All caused by men I hasten to add. Really, sometimes it seems your sex is more trouble than it’s worth.”
“I think you’re conveniently forgetting Bellatrix LeStrange, but I’ll let that go. Let me know if you still have that opinion about men after we’ve had sex. You apparently have no basis for comparison right now.”
“Full of ourselves, are we? Sweet Guinevere, is there a man alive who doesn’t think his skills in bed are superlative? I got more fun out of reading passages in my mother’s romance novels than with either of my two partners.” Hermione grew sad, “I hoped things would sort themselves out and Ron and I would discover what worked for us together, but that never happened.”
“It sounds like you need to talk about your erstwhile lover and then him go. Did you never discuss your disappointment with anyone?” Lucius led Hermione down a gloomy hall looking for the room number they had been assigned.
Hermione reflected on her compatriot’s question, “I was friends with Ron’s sister. My best friends were Ron, Harry and Ginny Weasley. I’m sure Ginny was embarrassed about her brother’s behavior in dumping me so we drifted apart. Harry was training as an Auror and he had moved to the continent, mostly to get away from his reputation as a savior,” Hermione snickered at Lucius’ sour expression. “So aside from a little commiserating by my mother, I hadn’t anyone to talk to and I didn’t encourage discussion.”
”Well, you can talk to me about it if you want, but I’m not likely to be wildly sympathetic. Personally, I think a week’s worth of solid shagging would do more for you than six months of therapy. Ah, here we are,” Lucius stopped at a dingy door, opening it with the old-fashioned key the bartender had tossed him. He stepped inside and held the door open for Hermione after taking a brief glance around to be sure it didn’t have any unpleasant elements to bother her. Lucius closed the door and warded it before tossing off his cape onto the old threadbare cover on a sagging mattress held up by an iron bedstead.
“This place doesn’t look any better than our bedroom at the apartment house,” she noted.
“Do you want to go first or shall I?” Lucius quirked his lips as he watched Hermione inspect the room, her porcelain complexion turning rosy as she looked anywhere but at him. She was remembering he had offered to shag her. Maybe she could think of it as therapy. He hoped so. “Shall I drop my trousers and lean against the bedframe? I would really like some relief sometime today if you don’t mind.” Suiting action to words, Lucius began loosening the falls of his pantaloons, opening the front and dropping the flap of material, shimmying the tight pants down to his thighs and exposing his impressive assets before he turned away and leaned against the ancient bed. Hermione had turned toward him in time to get a clear picture of what was on offer. Lucius ignored the little witch’s gasp merely saying, “The ointment is in my cape pocket. You’ve definitely seen my buttocks before. Quit acting coy and help me.”
Hermione shrewdly decided Lucius had flashed his equipment on purpose to literally dangle a temptation in front of her. Damn the man, it was working, too. Unfortunately, as her nether parts began to react with a slight sexual swelling, it made her welts throb even worse. That doused her interest very effectively. After removing her gloves to protect them from the greasy ointment, she found the tube in the cape pocket, unwrapped the package and took off the cap, squeezing a fat squiggle onto one finger. She was careful to put the ointment only on the end of one digit so it would be the only one numbing up from exposure to the preparation. Oh, my, she was going to be wiping all those angry lines with her finger. His poor behind looked like someone had played a game of red-hot pick-up-sticks on it. She felt a little sorry that she had put so much muscle behind her swats, then she felt her own lines throb in sympathy and felt a little more justified. She hadn’t deserved her punishment at all.
“Hermione, you can gaze at my butt all you want later, but can you apply the ointment now? I promise I won’t bite unless you’d like me to.” Lucius looked around at the little witch, a lascivious grin etched on his face. His masculine tool was developing an interest of its own, anticipating his own turn at painting Hermione’s sweet little tush with the ointment. He was hoping to give her a crash course in elementary sex as soon as their distressing wounds receded enough for them to enjoy lying on their backs again. The ointment should reduce the swelling and soothe and numb their skins within moments. He’d been pleased to see the apothecary sold the industrial strength formula. Lucius’ priorities were clear – sex first, then solicitor’s.
Hermione easily discerned his intentions and she did NOT want to be thrown down on that nasty-looking bed. Who knew what manner of disgusting creatures had used it and perhaps deposited…well, just ewww. As a scene for seduction, this room had to be in the running with Hagrid’s hut or Lucius’ prison cell for least amorous territory. If she was going to abandon years of solitude for his offer, Hermione intended to have much better surroundings than a sagging mattress in a rent-by-the-hour room above a tavern. As the little Gryffindor witch squeezed the tube of ointment, a sneaky idea came to her. She quickly ran her finger over the masculine slopes of Lucius’ butt, anointing the lashes and watching them fade instantly from angry red down to a pale pink and she heard the sighs of relief that Lucius wasn’t bothering to hold in.
“Gods, that feels good,” he moaned. “Right, thank you for doing that so quickly. Now it’s your turn. Bottoms up, Hermione.” Lucius stood and loosely raised his pantaloons leaving the most protruding part of his male anatomy on display. “Sorry for the inconvenience, I can’t button my falls just yet,” he smiled, assessing the little witch’s absorption in his wares. “You don’t mind, do you, seeing as how we’ve already decided to become lovers?”
Hermione could see that it would be painful for him to button his pants over his distended apparatus and her resolve hardened. “First things first,” she said somewhat cryptically, bending over the mattress and raising her dress just to her waist.
Lucius saw she indeed hadn’t worn knickers and her little bum was a mass of red welts turned purple with bruising. His desire dimmed for a moment as he saw the extent of his rage decorating her posterior. “Truly, Hermione, I’m sorry about those stripes. I’ll fix them and then we can do something much more pleasurable, shall we?” He took a large dab of ointment and tossed the tube on the mattress near Hermione’s elbow.
“Oh, yes, Lucius, I’d like that very much,” Hermione said sweetly, waiting for the ointment to be swiped on her bruised butt.
Lucius ran his ointment-painted fingertip over one welt after another as Hermione sighed with obvious relief, her red lashes fading one by one to the same pale pink as Lucius’. “Hermione?” Lucius queried, his voice suspiciously whimsical as he plied his fingers across her wounds, “I’m sure there must be a mistake, but it appears that you only have twelve welts back here. I thought you counted sixteen?”
Hermione bit her lip in vexation at being caught out in a lie, “I may have miscounted, Lucius. I was a little dizzy from the pain and the lines ran together. It is as well, I suppose, that I only gave you twelve swats, then, isn’t it?”
Lucius warned, “It is definitely as well for you, my dear. We wouldn’t want the punishment to have been unequal, now would we?”
Hermione heard the threat of future lashes and she became more determined than ever to go through with her little plan. She surreptitiously pulled out her gloves from her cloak pocket and put them back on while Lucius was swiping ointment on her butt. She reached for the ointment tube.
Lucius patted her butt and told her he was through and Hermione lifted herself off the mattress, turned and came face to face with a physically aroused two-hundred pound male who thought he was going to get lucky in the next few moments.
Hermione reached out her gloved hands and gently encircled the large, lavish erection pointed at her waist, sliding her little fingers from tip to root and back on Lucius’ purplish pole. Her fingers were warmed by his male heat even through the glove leather and she audaciously indulged in smoothing the velvety skin over firm, solid muscle, the sensitive tips of her kidskin-covered digits easily noting the insistent throb of Lucius’ heartbeat reverberating throughout his lengthening tool. She was mesmerized by the sheer size. Lucius’ endowment made both Ron and Roger look like girls with big clits.
Lucius purred his pleasure, closing his eyes briefly as the sensation of Hermione’s delicate touch on him sank into his balls and wove a spell of intense, tingling titillation throughout his pelvis. Absolute heaven. And the kidskin gloves were quite the kinky addition. He felt those stirring little gloved hands cup the cushiony glans of his staff for a second, then let him go and he opened his eyes just as the enormity of her actions hit home. The little monster had slathered the numbing ointment on his pride and joy and it was already drooping peacefully into a relaxed sleep.
“Shite, what did you do that for? Dammit, I won’t be able to perform for hours now.” Lucius watched mournfully as his now flaccid member hung down, resting over his lax testicles in betrayal.
Hermione was impressed with the length of his tool even in slumber. It fell well below the large pair of testes it had so proudly capped a moment before. She was almost sorry to have lost the experience of having his splendid size stretching her, but she was a little relieved too. He was so much bigger than she in all ways, it might be a mismatch and then she would hurt in another place besides her bum. Luckily her backside already felt almost normal.
Lucius grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, shaking her a little, but he’d learned his lesson about letting loose his rage on her. He was baffled at her behavior, however. Hadn’t she wanted him? She’d agreed to sex earlier. “Why?” Lucius asked.
“You were thinking about having sex in this horrible room on that sleazy bed. I wasn’t. I’ve noticed that what I want rarely comes before what you want, therefore, I made your mind up for you. And besides, I wanted to go to Flourish and Blott’s and the Ice Cream Parlor. I am perfectly sure none of that was going to happen if you had the use of that,” she pointed at his useless tool, “to sway your decision.”
Lucius had been outsmarted and outmaneuvered and he was angry, but also stimulated at the clever witch’s ability to get what she wanted. That kind of determination always excited his Slytherin admiration, although it was incredibly irritating to think his lovemaking came well behind a good book and an ice cream cone. As they stood there the information slid into their minds that the term was ices, not ice cream. Both of them sighed, then ignored the incidental knowledge. Lucius looked down at his sleeping sex organ and shrugged. “You’ve only put off the inevitable, Hermione. We are going to have sex. Lots of steamy, sweaty, no-holds-barred sex. Depend on it. For now, I surrender.”
There was no reason not to re-button his falls now and Lucius quickly tucked himself into his tight pantaloons, tensing as he did, but the pain from his backside was gone and the pants didn’t chafe him any more. Lucius looked around the dingy room, finally seeing it through his companion’s eyes and he cringed a little at the sorry furnishings and water-stained wallpaper whose colors had long since faded to obscurity. “Hmm, I see what you mean. I suppose you want candlelight and rose petals for your ten-year reunion with orgasms?”
Now that Hermione had prevailed in getting her way, she was prepared to be magnanimous and she giggled, a girlish sound that Lucius was surprised to hear from his little slyboots. He turned back to her in some astonishment, blinking his hypnotic, icy eyes at the infectious sound and then an answering smile was wrung from him, lightening his mood but bringing utter confusion. What was so funny?
“Oh, it hasn’t been ten years since I had an orgasm,” she devilishly dangled the taunt, knowing Lucius was basically impotent for the moment, “I never said that. You might say I had a lovely bath last night.”
A sudden hiss of sucked-in breath was Lucius’ stifled reaction to the shameless gall of his tormentor. His smile slipped and frosty eyes narrowed in derisive acknowledgement at her wizard-baiting. So courageous now and so reamed out later. His gritty, calculating expression promised thorough retribution for her sly, underhanded tease.
He watched Hermione straighten her dress, thinking about her pert little derriere and that exciting lack of knickers and her admitted pleasuring of herself, but his tool gave no indication it had received any messages at all. Nasty little witch. Retribution for that dirty trick would be a glorious thing. Lucius had a finely developed sense of patience honed by many years of doing Voldemort’s bidding and his prison life. She was going to be viewing the world from her back very soon, if he didn’t wind up spanking her again. She had no sense of fair play.
He turned toward the door, “You’ll need to add a visit to Nesbitt and Ridge onto your boring list of shopping errands, though. Them first, I think. Everyone else will be open later, but they may close earlier.”
Hermione merely grinned at Lucius’ frustrated expression knowing she had won for the moment and refusing to worry about the future. “Very well, Nesbitt and Ridge first. But then I want to go to Flourish and Blott’s and I don’t want to be disturbed when I look at the books. I haven’t had any entertainment since we’ve arrived here and I suspect you have. I’m pretty sure you managed to find a bit more than a gambling establishment the night you came after me. Either that or you’ve taken to wearing a woman’s cheap, lilac perfume in your hair. That horrid smell was right under my nose while you were, uh, you know.” Hermione waved her hand in front of her breasts.
Lucius was arrested halfway to the door. He swerved and came back to the little witch, looking down at her in consternation, “Is that why you started crying?” Sweet hell, he had bollixed up the rescue even more than he thought he’d done with his uninhibited enjoyment of Hermione’s soft breasts.
“Apparently you came to me directly from someone else,” she said, trying for supreme unconcern. “I suppose you were making up for lost time after so many years in prison and I don’t really blame you. It was just the last straw, I guess, knowing you were out doing that while I was getting carted away.”
Lucius had no answer for her home truths. He had thought his wards would be protection enough for her safety and he could slip away to indulge his clamoring libido. That new leaf he was determined to turn over as his promise to himself in prison was a harder goal to accomplish than he had thought. He was somewhat dismayed to find his shiny new leaf was turning an ugly, selfish brown at the edges already.
What should he say? A bit of fence mending was in order if he expected to ever find his way to a Tahitian sunset, “Do you remember that tavern maid who accosted you the first day?”
“You were with her?” Hermione was astounded at the low standards this ever-haughty Malfoy was willing to sink to. And a not a little affronted that she had been passed over in favor of the blowsy trollop.
“No, it wasn’t she. I didn’t plan it that way, but shall we just say the selection I had to choose from could all have been her sisters? I needed something and you were the most appealing female available. Being around you twenty-four hours a day was making me crazy. Is making me crazy. Think, Hermione, if you were in prison for twelve years without a single book to read, then were set down right next to a bright, shiny, new book on a subject you loved, then told you couldn’t read it, but there were other older, tattered copies on duller subjects available to read, what would you have done?” Lucius shrugged as though to say he had no choice. “I was trying to do us both a favor and it rebounded viciously on you. I don’t apologize for my desires, but I’m sorry you were preyed upon in my absence.”
“So after twelve years of you playing one-handed skin flute in prison, I was looking pretty good? The compliments just keep coming, you smooth-talking devil, you,” Hermione’s voice conveyed a bit of sarcasm, but she could kind of understand Lucius’ problem. A tiny, hard knot somewhere inside Hermione relaxed at his admission she was making him crazy, but she didn’t want to discuss it with him knowing it was an explosive subject. She wasn’t quite ready to talk about that mindless sex pact, especially in this noxious bedroom.
“Are you more angry that you wound up in the brothel, or are you more angry that I took my libido elsewhere? Because I can solve that problem right now.” Lucius disliked being chided for his sexual needs. He didn’t answer to her for what he did.
Hermione’s mouth quirked up into a half-smile as she looked down at his pantaloons. “I’m not taking you to task for your actions, Lucius. Please don’t think I’m censuring your right to your private life. But,” she smiled more fully, “I think right now you’ll be hard pressed to make good on that solution you’ve just proposed.”
“What?” Lucius remembered the ointment and the deflation of his hopes, “Dammit, no I can’t solve anything right now. But retribution is only a matter of hours away, my dear. And it wasn’t always one-handed skin flute. I never said that,” Lucius mimicked Hermione’s earlier jab.
“Huh? But what else…-” Hermione’s question trailed away as she belatedly realized where it was going. Her naïve confusion was obvious and it delighted Lucius, feeding something warm and protective in him. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Sometimes it just felt good to be alive.
“Are you saying that you still have hopes of ‘reading’ bright, shiny, new me?” Hermione taunted, misreading his smile as condescension.
“I believe we’ve established that, have we not?” His eyes gleamed and his smile turned feral, “I’m going to ‘read’ you and then reread you, cover to cover, mostly by Braille. I’m sure your story is going to have a happy ending with a spectacular climax. Now, as you say, we really need to get on to the solicitor’s. Come along.” Lucius turned again for the door.
“Bow-wow,” said Hermione and saw Lucius’ quick frown before he unwarded the portal and they left the room.
Lucius led the way back down the stairs and out through the brick wall into Diagon Alley again after throwing the old key back to the bartender.
“If we have time I want to visit whoever sells the robes in this time,” the little witch said. “I need some more lingerie. I can’t seem to transfigure the elastic right.” Hermione was once more trying to keep up with Lucius’ longer strides.
“Do they have elastic in this century?” he asked. “You may be stuck with frilly drawers and ties to keep them up. Luckily for me I don’t wear underclothes.” He gave in to the tiny revenge of needling her, “I suppose you’ll have to get used to loose, frou-frou garments. Females’ pantalettes have a slit in just the right place, so it will be easier for me to find my way into them. Or you could continue to wear nothing. I understand women’s knickers are not a universal item of apparel in this time period. ” Lucius knew he shouldn’t tease the little uptight witch, but she was just so easy and he liked laughing with her or at her, he didn’t care which. It was pleasant to laugh; he hadn’t had much to laugh at for a long time.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Lucius’ crude comment, but didn’t answer, not wanting to know just how her companion knew about that slit or the personal habits of the 1817 woman. She grabbed onto the wizard’s coat sleeve and murmured ‘gentleman’ to him prompting him to adjust his stride down to hers. She had her way and that was enough for now. She could hardly wait to get to Flourish and Blott’s.
tbc...
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All together now, What is the one thing Lucius cares about (a little) more than sex? MONEY! He’s sidetracked for now, taking back the reins of an extremely large estate, extensive investments and properties, and millions of Galleons. He'll be back on Hermione's tail soon enough, I'm sure. Please review. I love to hear from you. And you too, lovely lurkers. Also, don't forget the rating system down on the right. Thank you!! . .
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Beyond the Veil -- COMPLETE