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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
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Author�s Note:� A
little short, sorry.� Next chappie will be longer, I promise.� Enjoy & let me know what you think!

Nothing could have prepared her for
the night that followed.� She was in the
kitchen with her mother helping to put the final touches on dinner when the
doorbell rang.

�� I�ve got
it,� her father said from the living room.�
Neither of them paid much attention, figuring he would handle whoever it
was.

�� Careful,
Hermione, that�s hot,� her mother said.

�� Yes, Mum,�
she smiled, lifting the steaming pan.�
She walked into the dining room, knowing her mum was right behind her
with the rest of the meal.� She set it
down, breathing the lovely smell of shepherd�s pie, and turned to help the
other woman.

�� Gerard?�
her mother called.� �Are you still at the
door?�

�� Yes, dear.� Someone�s
here to see Hermione.� A
Mr. Malfoy?�

�� Hermione
froze.

�� Oh, bring
him in,� she heard her mother say.� She
tried to find her voice, tried to shout a vehement no, but shock and fear
closed her in.� The world seemed to
tremble with a fright that was almost palpable.�
Lucius Malfoy, in
her house�a hater of muggles and muggleborns�in
her house�a man who ought to be in jail, a man who, if his book was truly a
memoir, had done things much worse than murder. �

�� And there
he was, sedately following her father into the dining room.� Again he was without his robes, though not
entirely; they were draped over his arm, and that ridiculous cane tapped idly,
agitatedly, on the carpeted floor.� It
occurred to her that it had been all too easy for him to find this place; the
layers and layers of wards she�d applied before the war and never removed would
have been woefully ineffective had danger ever strayed into her parents� home.� She had boarded the train at 12:35, gotten
off at 13:55, and it was now 18:15.� It
had taken him less than six hours to find her.

�� Hermione?�

�� Her mother�s
voice brought her back.� She felt like
she was quivering with adrenaline, but it must not have shown.� Not to her parents, anyway.� They looked perfectly delighted.� In contrast, the slight sneer in Malfoy�s eyes indicated that he saw everything.

�� Shall
we�talk outside?� she finally managed, forcing her voice into a stable,
emotionless question.

�� Oh, that�s
not necessary, dear,� her mother trilled.�
�We can go in the other room if it�s private.�

�� She felt
faint.� It would be good to get her
parents out of the way, but it was a very small comfort to be alone with
him.� This afternoon had been
different.� She had the upper hand, he
was disarmed and on the defensive � but now, they were equal and there were two
muggles for him to exploit.� She had no chance if the purpose of his visit
wasn�t benign.

�� No,� Lucius said, his voice oddly placating.� �I do not wish to interrupt your dinner.� I need only a moment.�

�� Hermione
could have screamed when her mother spoke next.

�� Have you
eaten, Mr. Malfoy?�
You are more than welcome to join us.�

�� Lucius looked down for the briefest of moments, concealing
something that flashed across his face.� Probably disgust, she thought.� When he raised his piercing eyes, his
expression surprised her.� It was calm
and aloof, but marginally warmer than before.�
It might have been amused. �Perhaps he was thinking of how much it would
discomfit her if he accepted.

�� I thank
you for your kindness, Mrs. Granger, but I must decline.� I have my own family to dine with when I am
finished speaking with your daughter.��
He turned his eyes to Hermione.� �Outside, then?�

�� She
nodded.� Movement betrayed how little
control she had over her fear; her muscles were weak, shivering, and she was
sure that as she followed him down the hallway, her eyes fixed on his long,
perfectly trimmed blond hair where it rested along his broad back, she was not
walking straight.� She felt like she was
following Hades to his domain, and it wasn�t Elysium that awaited her.

�� Hermione
couldn�t shake the image.� Hades, if he
existed, would be a man like Lucius.� Cold, beautiful, full of
judgment, and clever�oh, so clever.�
As Hades had tricked Persephone, so must she be sure that Lucius Malfoy did not trick
her.� Not that she believed his aims were
the same.�

�� She closed
the door behind her and found herself in the small yard of the home she had
grown up in.� She felt suddenly
self-conscious; her mother�s azaleas were wilting, the shrubs overgrown, the
grass browned and patchy, and the concrete stairs were cracked.� Her parents weren�t getting any younger, but
they could afford to hire a landscaper, for goodness sake.�

�� If you
will kindly emerge from your coma, Miss Granger, I require something,� he said
sharply.� His voice cut like a new blade.

�� What on
earth could you need from me?� she returned, substituting disdain for
composure.

�� Pure
unadulterated annoyance made a muscle in his jaw clench.� �During your heroics this afternoon, you
robbed me of my wand.� I should like it
back.�

�� Her mouth
fell open.� A fresh wave of shock and
fear swept over her.� She remembered
taking his wand, but thought that she�d thrown it back at him, along with the
start of his second dirty story.� Her
head had been so jumbled, though, that maybe�

�� Oh,
God.� She had kept it.� She had taken his wand from him.� It was in the pocket of her coat.� He would kill her for it.

�� I�m not
stupid.� I won�t just hand it over,� she
spat, sounding stronger than she felt.�
Damn her neighbors; they were out, two houses down.� She couldn�t pull her wand.� He, however, wouldn�t give a fizzing whizbee about her neighbors if he wanted to harm her.

�� If you
won�t, I will go purchase another�� his voice lowered, �and I will not be happy
about it.�

�� Are you
threatening me?�

�� He sighed,
genuinely disgusted.� �Girl, I do not
have time to counsel you on the nature of threats.� It is what you believe it to be.� Now give me my wand.�

�� No,� she
dared, her voice not as firm as she wanted it to be.� The fact that he was here, here, still scared the shit out of her
in a way that would never have been present in the wizarding
world.�

�� His face
turned hard and dangerous.� �Then I will
have yours.�

�� Her eyes
widened as he took a step forward.� She
had to stun him, her neighbors be damned.�
That was a mess that could be cleaned up.� However, if Lucius
got a hold of her wand and used it on her, as his eyes said he would, she would be the one they�d be cleaning
off the brittle grass.� She reached into
her pocket, tried to yank it out, but in her panic the tip got stuck in her shirt.� He was upon her too quickly; he wrenched it
out of her hand and pointed it at her.

�� She
froze.� He was less than a foot from her,
imposing in his cold fury.� The wand did
not like him.� It gave off an angry red
spark at his touch but he held on.� He would
not be bested by a muggleborn�s discordant wand.

�� Now,� he
said, as if he were talking to someone of vastly less intelligence than
himself, �retrieve my wand.�

�� His demand
was not followed by an �or else.�� But she
would take it how she pleased, and she pleased to label any encounter that
involved him pointing a wand at her face as threatening.�

�� Swallowing,
Hermione backed toward the door.� He
didn�t move; he was sentinel of stern power.�
He was so like his protagonist in that moment, detached but exacting,
always in control, dominant even in the submissive task of recovering the wand
she had taken from him.

�� His eyes
narrowed ever so slightly.� She hastened
to get inside.� Her heart was
throbbing.� He might not keep her wand,
not once he had his own back, but there was still no guarantee that he wouldn�t
hex her into next Tuesday.� She had only
the blind hope that he knew better.� He
might have; his less attractive habit of cursing her and her filthy bloodline
had been completely absent in their trio of interactions.� She ran up the stairs and into her old room,
where she had tossed her coat without much thought.� Her hands trembled as she extracted his wand
from the pocket.

�� It felt
wrong in her hand.� It didn�t react to
her the way hers had demonstrated its incompatibility with him, but holding it
felt like trying to write with her left hand.�
Wrong, unwieldy, inexact�she shuddered and left the room.� Her feet carried her back down the stairs and
out the door.

�� When the
screen had clicked shut, she held the wand out to him warily.� There was nothing else she could do, not in
this situation.� He took it in his left
hand.� And then, to her complete shock,
he held her wand out with his right.� At
first she was too stunned to move; surely he was bluffing, he�d hex her, or
laugh and pull away when she reached for it.

�� He whistled
a minute later, two notes, high then low, like one
might whistle at a dog.� She saw his hand
wave the wand slightly.� His arrogance
brought her back.� She grabbed her wand
and this time she kept it out.� Never
again would she worry about muggle witnesses in his
presence.

�� Now that
wasn�t so hard, was it?� he asked, in that syrupy, condescending way of his.

�� Get out of
here,� she said frostily.� �And don�t
ever come near my parents again.�

�� You are no
doubt aware,� he returned, �that if I or anyone had wished to harm them, it
would already be done.�� He surveyed her,
sneering.� �As it is, they are vastly
more agreeable than you.�

�� Only because they don�t know you, Malfoy.�

�� And you
think you do?�

�� His
question, quickly fired, caught her off guard.

�� I know
what I�ve read,� she recovered.� �And
what I�ve seen.�

�� He smiled
and it was treacherous.� �What you�ve
read, indeed.�� He moved forward, closing
the small gap between them, invading her personal space with ease and
intention.� Her wand poked firmly into
his chest.� He didn�t seem to feel it at
all.

�� I will hex
you, Malfoy,� she warned,
her voice firm and tremulous at the same time.�
He was too close and the violent desire for him to leave made her feel
claustrophobic.

�� Yes, but
tell me�did you like what you read?�� His
voice was low, silky, devastating�and strangest of all, it was actually
interested.

�� Hermione
breathed and tried not to look at him.�
His eyes were so intense, so goddamn smug in their own knowledge.� Her fingers itched to flick the wand and
curse him.� But at the same time she knew
she wouldn�t.

�� Of course
you didn�t,� he murmured, so close that his breath tickled her cheek.� �Such tales are too sordid for prim little Gryffindors.�

�� That got
her; she looked up, straight into his eyes, a retort ready on her lips.� It promptly died as she was pinned in his
gaze.� He had been waiting for it,
banking on it � as Hades had banked on the pomegranate.

�� Ah�� he
almost sighed, so much taunting conveyed in one long syllable.� �I see.��
He leaned in closer.� Her hand
jerked on her wand.� However, the jinx she
wanted to throw deserted her when his tongue dipped into her ear.� She gasped and closed her eyes. �The hottest, most incongruous sensation she
had ever felt bombarded her; she thought her knees might give out.

�� What the
hell was wrong with her?� She couldn�t
breathe. �Ten seconds of the hot,
wriggling tip of his tongue and her brain was turning to mush.� A fierce slice of lust shot through her
abdomen.� He knew it, too.

�� As swiftly
as he�d advanced, he retreated, his teeth scraping her earlobe.� She nearly fell forward, not realizing that
she had been leaning on him.

�� Good day,
Miss Granger,� he said, as if no unpleasantness or innuendo had
transpired.� And then he walked away.

�� She had to
sit down, but she refused to collapse onto the steps before he was out of
sight.� When he was gone she lowered
herself and breathed, just breathed, until her mother poked her head out the
door and informed her that her dinner was getting cold. �

�� Two nights
later Ron surprised her.� He wasn�t due
back from training for another three weeks, but sheepishly informed her that
he�d snuck out for the evening and Harry was covering for him. �She was happy to see him, very happy, and
wasn�t at all surprised when the end of dinner found them reclining on the
couch kissing.

�� She had
been impatient for his presence, anxious for his lips and hands and body.� What he gave her was good � it was always
good � but a dark corner of her mind whispered that it was not as good as what
ten seconds of Lucius Malfoy�s
dangerous serpentine tongue had done.�
She had thought about it again and again, turned it around in her mind,
trying to understand what and how and why�

�� His brief
flirtation, edged in terror, had wrought a desire in her that was awful in its
power.� Perhaps he had just found a new
pleasure spot on her; after all, no one else had ever done exactly what he did
to her before.� She tilted her neck back
and Ron kissed her, let his tongue stray briefly to the spot behind her ear,
and she took the opportunity.

�� Ron�try�in
my ear��

�� He
obliged.� It felt good, but not the
same.� Damn it to hell, it was not the
same.

�� Ron loved
her as best he could, pushing her to a sweet, muted
orgasm that made her sigh.� It made her
sigh, but it did not make her scream.� As
she lay on the couch, a tangle of limbs with Ron, that blonde prince of hell
flashed into her mind.

�� She exhaled
heavily, clutching Ron�s warm body.� He
was like a life preserver in that moment, but one that held her up when she
wanted to drown � because she knew with a terrible certainty that he � Lucius,
not Ron � could make her scream.� And that knowledge would always be with her, whether she saw him
again or not.� ��
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Hungry Thirsty Crazy