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Once a Malfoy, Always a Malfoy	By : Inspire Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 9530 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the associated characters and settings of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, etc., referenced in this story belong to the respective copyright holders. They are being used for fun, not profit.

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"What do you mean, you're sorry you can't help?" she shrieked at the portrait in frustration. It was all the fault of Lucius Malfoy—that snake—and his rich voice so like Draco's that she was in this state. That Draco had got his rich, sexy voice from his father was immaterial at the moment. What was material was that she'd been painfully aroused for the past hour and seeking to relieve the pressure herself hadn't worked.

Hermione hadn't felt much urge in the past year to try reaching orgasm with Draco gone. Her desire had seemed to die with her husband. Or so she had thought before that blond snake suggested they might take turns reading something aloud this week. The man must have known the effect his voice would have on her. Lucius rarely did anything without purpose.

"Exactly that. Once a Malfoy—"

"Always a Malfoy. I know. I know," Hermione grumbled. "What I don't know is why you won't give me permission so I can attend to this … this problem!" Once she'd magically bound herself to Draco, Hermione had no desire to come without him. She hadn't thought the years she'd spent willing submitting that sort of control to him would make it impossible for her now. She needed release. She ached for it. If she couldn't get it alone, she'd simply thought to try another avenue. All she wanted was to hear Draco's portrait tell her she had his approval to come. It wasn't as if she was asking the blasted thing to bring her off itself.

"Because I can't, Hermione. I'm a portrait of a Malfoy, not the real thing. You bound yourself to a Malfoy. With the real Draco gone, there remains only one Malfoy who can grant you the permission you seek," the portrait explained. "You'll have to ask my father."

Hermione's mouth formed a small circle as the flogger landed with a thud. She loved this. She loved it all. Almost all, that was. The paddle they'd tried hadn't turned her on at all and Draco claimed not to have liked using it as much either. Hermione had been reluctant to believe that given his enthusiasm for trying different implements on her until he explained exactly why the paddle was different. It was so similar to her own reasons for disliking it that she found herself trusting him to make suggestions on what she might like instead of directing their course herself.

That had turned out to be her best decision of all. Without the need to think about what she wanted and how she wanted it, Hermione found herself able to sink into the sensations and simply enjoy the way the strikes felt. She was hot; she was cold. She tingled; she hurt. She was painfully and gloriously aroused. This was so much better than her fantasies. Every strike with the flogger, the strap, his hand—everything they'd tried—even the discarded paddle, had been meticulously placed, and her reactions carefully checked even after she'd given up using words in favor of moans, whimpers, and cries of delight. He praised her, caressed her, encouraged her, supported her, shared how she was making him feel, and in turn, made her feel alive, free, beautiful, and most of all, cherished.

Draco had never seen a more beautiful woman. Hermione brought the same zeal to this as she brought to everything she wanted to learn. He was determined to do all he could to keep that fire burning in her. Malfoy men were by nature dominant, but Draco's particular preference for dominance had been tempered by his horrifying experiences groveling before the Dark Lord. He wasn't interested in the sort of submissive who enjoyed being humiliated, terrorized, or even ordered to do things she didn't like doing. Draco wanted— No. He needed to know that his submissive partners enjoyed themselves and what he did with them. For that reason, he'd always kept this aspect of his sexuality confined to professionals who enjoyed the act as well as his money. They also aided him in gaining expertise. And because the women he dominated were professionals, he'd never, ever penetrated one. The arousal from the act of dominating a submissive was enough to guarantee him release without spreading valuable Malfoy seed where it shouldn't be implanted.

Now, here in front of him, he had not only a virgin, but the most passionate witch he'd ever beheld, writhing in pleasure from the things he was doing to her, begging for more with each gasp, cry and shudder. She placed her trust him and he was determined that he wouldn't fail her. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anyone. The way she transformed, allowing him to see this side of her, drew him like a Niffler to gold. No one could compare with her amazing mixture of innocence and wisdom, strength and vulnerability. She captivated him and it was his most fervent wish to capture her heart for himself.

"Touch me. Oh, please, touch me. Love me," she begged as the flogger hit an especially lovely place and nearly set off an orgasm. Hermione wanted to come so badly but she wanted it to be him, his body, bringing her off. "Let me touch you," she wanted to try so much more. She wanted to try everything. "Let me love you. Teach me. Teach me everything," she begged. "Make me yours."

"Yes. Gods, yes."

One final stroke and Lucius tossed back his head with a groan. The warm water rinsed away his tension with his seed. A shower prior to retiring to his bed had become a necessity in the past weeks to bring him some measure of relaxation for falling asleep. A wizard in his prime, as he considered himself to be, could not be expected to go without physical release.

His marriage contract with Narcissa did not allow him to remarry unless he was without heir. The magic binding him to it also prevented him from seeking his pleasure elsewhere as the Mistress Malfoy was to be his only partner. Narcissa's father and his solicitors had thought themselves very clever on that clause. They had thought to insure both that he would not stray and that Narcissa remained a virgin until the wedding by phrasing it in such a way. Indeed, they would have succeeded, except for one thing. Hermione was also Mistress Malfoy. Not only that, the impromptu magical bonding Draco and Hermione had stumbled into brought the Muggle-born witch under full Malfoy protection, not just Draco's. With Draco gone, the responsibility for Hermione, and technically for her training, fell to Lucius.

He had loved Narcissa deeply. She had been his and his alone. The conditions of their marriage contract had been more than acceptable to Lucius, thinking, as young men often did, that nothing could ever separate them. They had both believed they would grow old together. Keeping himself only for her had not been any sort of sacrifice. He'd been taught that Malfoy men were not indiscriminate lovers and were always faithful to their family. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy, and a Malfoy bride deserved the respect of a monogamous spouse as much as the family deserved the honor of knowing all its children were legitimate.

Despite his love for his deceased wife, Lucius saw no reason to deny himself for the rest of his life if it could be avoided. That Hermione had been his son's wife did not bother him in the least. If anything, already being a Malfoy made her more acceptable. While it was no longer common in the modern age, there was a history of Malfoy widows being taken in, cared for, and eventually being married again to a brother, uncle, or even the widower father, of the witch's deceased husband. Malfoy tradition demanded he provide for her. Lucius' own urges demanded that he seek happiness with her if he could.

Lucius slipped between his sheets. He missed the simple delight of having Narcissa beside him. Then, remembering the way Hermione had felt curled against him the night he had found her in the portrait gallery and brought the sobbing witch to his bed, Lucius vowed to step up his seduction. There was no need for him to continue sleeping alone.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her stammered request. "I am not sure I understood you, my dear. Perhaps you should repeat that?" Hermione was beet red, however her Gryffindor background certainly showed in her bravery in applying to him. He had always assumed that it would be necessary for him to approach her once it had become obvious that her need had grown too great.

"You heard me, Lucius," Hermione said, lifting her chin and speaking much more clearly. She really didn't want to have to repeat herself. It had been a good fifty times harder approaching him with this simple request than it had been approaching Draco all those years ago with her sexual experiment scheme. She doubted Lucius would be as careful with her feelings as Draco had always been. Hermione had been so reluctant to ask that it had taken her weeks to work up the courage and that was only after her research had convinced her there was no other way for a magically bound submissive to go about reaching orgasm. Lucius would have to grant her permission.

Indeed, he had heard her. As muddled as her petition had been, he had both heard and understood. He tilted his head and nodded a fraction to indicate he had without saying as much. "Allow me to rephrase." He had not been as interested in having her repeat herself as he was in making sure he had her full attention, and, that she understood he was expecting something in return. "What precisely are you offering me in return for granting you this extraordinary favor?" Lucius purred in a way that had never failed to make Narcissa shiver and was delighted to find it had a similar impact on Hermione, though she struggled to conceal it.

Damn him, Hermione thought as she fought to control the little tremor that smoky purr had on her. Draco used to use precisely that tone of voice when he was feeling especially pleased with himself and with her, and it never failed to make her wet. Hermione told herself that this wasn't the time to become aroused. She needed her wits about her if Lucius was expecting her to negotiate. Hermione had considered it a possibility given the conclusions she'd drawn from her research, even though she hadn't wanted to admit that she might have been hoping he would ask a little something of her.

She supposed it should feel odd to be attracted to her husband's father. In fact, it had felt odd at first. It was only when she accepted how much Draco had been like his father in his looks and more formal mannerisms that she'd started to consider it natural to feel some attraction. Hermione decided it would probably have seemed even odder to most people that she should feel an attraction to someone who had invited her death more than once in her Hogwarts days. Having moved beyond the war and the past with Draco, it had been easy enough to set that aside with Lucius as well. They were all changed by their experiences in that tumultuous time. All of that didn't make it any easier for her to deal with her attraction. As natural as it might be to feel the things she did, Hermione doubted it would be wise to act upon them.

"I—I am not sure," she struggled not to bite her lower lip, a mannerism she'd never fully outgrown when nervous. "Do you have any suggestions?" Depending on how he responded, she'd have a better idea of what he had in mind. Hermione doubted it would be as simple as darning his socks. He had Whimsy and Bacore for that in any case. No, she was sure it would be something his house-elves couldn't provide.

Lucius pretended to consider her question despite having several suggestions immediately at hand. He had been planning for a similar moment for some time now, after all. "I believe that I would enjoy the pleasure of seeing you disrobe and observing this desired climax."

"Lucius!" Hermione gasped.

Her wide-eyed look caused him to chuckle. "However, I am also willing to allow you to reach your peak alone if you are willing to grant me the favor of inspecting your bond mark. I admit that I have always been curious about the Malfoy crest you and Draco managed to spontaneously manifest." His son had refused to provide too many details or the location of the Malfoy crest that marked Hermione's body. It had been enough that her name had magically inserted itself into the Malfoy family record to prove Draco's claim.

"No! I'd have to undress, at least partially, for that as well. Isn't there something you'd like that doesn't include removing my clothes?" Her voice held a slight edge of panic that she wished she could stop. Surely he was only teasing her. She wasn't anything like Narcissa. He couldn't possibly feel any attraction for her the way she did for him so Hermione assumed he asked for more than he was willing to accept. It was Lucius' way to negotiate to his advantage, and recently she'd begun to understand it was something he actively enjoyed. She simply wished it didn't come at her expense. Hermione was nervous enough at the moment.

"I would not be opposed to you remaining clothed while seeking your release, if you were to do so while bringing me to mine," he countered with a small upturn of his lips. The witch sounded shocked yet she was playing along instead of tearing off in a huff, which pleased him. Lucius had thought she would need to be coaxed much as Narcissa had needed to be in the beginning. He failed to take into consideration that Hermione was a widowed wife and mother, not an unsure bride. This was promising. Even more surprisingly, Lucius found that he was actually having fun.

"You want me to—Er—"

"Fellate, I believe is the term you are searching for," he offered. Experienced, she certainly was, however, she was not above being shocked. Lucius found that rather entertaining.

"You want me to give you a blow job?" Hermione thought he was teasing her about wanking him as she got off herself, not using her mouth on him. She felt her insides clench and she fought down the thrill she was feeling at the thought of it.

"Filthy witch," Lucius growled as she tried yet another of her whore's tricks on his cock. He did not realize before Hermione started how much better such oral attention could be when the witch was not only willing to provide the service but was excited by it as well. "You are vibrating with arousal, you nasty tart. Ah!" He looked down the length of his body to where her mouth engulfed him and wished she'd been willing to lose her dressing gown and nightdress so he could see how the little wanton played between her legs. "You like sucking cock. Do not deny it. Your slut's body gives you away."

Hermione hummed along his length. She'd been surprised at first to hear such filthy things come out his mouth. Draco had enjoyed sex talk but he'd never called her anything stronger than his 'wanton witch'. Lucius seemed so pleased as he called her names that Hermione decided she could accept it as long as he didn't start calling her anything she found too offensive. It was different, and if she was honest, it was exciting to hear such crude things in such posh tones.

"I can smell you. You are close, are you not?" So was he, surprisingly. Lucius had expected begrudged fellatio from a reluctant witch, not this gloriously enthusiastic and talented performance. "Do not dare to come before I do." He felt her tremor as he commanded her to restrain herself and smiled with satisfaction. Not only was she aroused by sucking she was enjoying his orders. Every time he had told her to do something he could feel her tremble. "You are dripping. I am sure of it."

She shivered as he alternated between almost snarling directions and purring observations. Close she was, but even if she'd wanted to come, she wouldn't be able to unless he gave her the permission she sought. Hermione hoped he held it back until she'd brought him off. Seeing him this close to being undone by her was turning her on nearly as much as the commands, the sucking, and her hand on her cunt combined. She wished to be focused entirely on him as he came. Bringing her hand out from under her nightie and dressing gown, she let him feel just how wet she was as she rolled his bollocks before pressing somewhat behind.

Lucius tossed back his head and roared as his seed erupted into her warm, willing mouth.

Heavens, he was spectacular. Hermione was enthralled by the look on his face, the noises he made, and even the boneless way he collapsed back upon the bed as he finished. Her finger scooped the bit that had got away from her chin to her mouth. She was still watching him, as he opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. Her own arousal hadn't disappeared; she had backed off from her peak only slightly while watching his.

The witch was watching him with those wide, brown eyes and Lucius felt a surge of tenderness. Sitting up, he cupped her cheek and was surprised at how readily she'd pressed her face into his palm. Her eyes were glazed, her pupils dilated, and her breathing had yet to even out. "You did not orgasm," he said it as a statement, yet meant it as a question. This had been the bargain they struck.

"You haven't given permission," she replied softly. Her voice was husky from arousal and from using her throat to bring him pleasure.

"By all means, my dear. You may come now." Lucius was somewhat stunned that she had bothered to wait, however he found that he was inordinately pleased by it.

Hermione blinked slowly, then nodded. She'd barely needed to move her finger back to her clit to find release now that permission had been granted. She had been on edge for weeks, not just the length of time she'd just spent on her knees.

As surprising as Lucius had found her skill at fellatio, his surprise at the swiftness of her response to his words was even greater. The witch flew apart, shrieking her pleasure. The transformation her rather ordinary features underwent as she gave in to desire caught Lucius' breath. In that moment, she was truly stunning. He understood now what had prompted his son's insistence that he found Hermione beautiful. Lucius offered her his hands to help her up. "Come. Rest." He drew her toward his bed.

"Oh." She eyed the bed nervously.

"Rest," he emphasized, seeing she looked poised to flee. "We have shared this bed once before remember?" Lucius felt the reminder would settle her. They had both slept well after she had finished her cry. "I would like for you to stay and sleep." His earlier observations and tests of her reactions to his judicious sharing of his honest desires gave Lucius hope she would succumb now as well.

"Just to sleep?" It was a long walk back her wing of the manor and she was tired. And he was so warm, much like Draco had always been. And he smelled so much like Draco, that Hermione couldn't help wanting to curl up beside Lucius and learn the ways he felt different as well. "Will you put out the candles first?"

"Just to sleep," he agreed. Lucius wondered why she'd mentioned the light until it occurred to him why she might not wish to see. "So that you may imagine yourself crawling into bed beside my son?" he growled harshly. He nearly barked at her to leave. Lucius had thought she'd been enjoying him, not pretending he was someone else, even if that someone else had been of his own blood.

"What?" Hermione shook her head. "No. No, Lucius." She was surprised to hear the note of pain in voice. "I—I admit that it's difficult not to draw comparisons, but I know you're not Draco." She took a deep breath and sat beside him on the bed. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to you for many of the same reasons but you're you. I'm not interested in pretending otherwise. I love—loved Draco with all my heart. I won't ruin what he and I had by trying to imagine anyone in his place." Hermione looked at him and saw he was watching her closely, probably trying to figure out if she was telling him the truth.

Lucius eyed her critically. She sounded sincere. He supposed it was not a stretch to imagine that she'd find the similarities comforting. Malfoy men had been made from the same mold for centuries. He was not yet convinced, however. "Then tell me why you are concerned about the light, Hermione."

"I don't want to be compared to her. I'm nothing at all like Narcissa. I respected her, but I know how little I resemble her." Both in looks and personality, Hermione thought. The only traits she thought she shared with Draco's mother had been devotion to her family and the willingness to do whatever it took to protect the people she loved.

She said it with such feeling that Lucius was certain she told the truth. "This is your worry, that I will see you and find you lacking in some way?" He felt she was worried about more than the simple comparison she mentioned.

"Yes," Hermione whispered. She was beginning to wish she'd returned to her rooms after all. It was awkward to discuss her insecurities. It was awkward simply to admit she was feeling insecure.

Narcissa had been beautiful, especially corseted into a more feminine shape, however Lucius had always preferred natural curves. "You are a woman and a mother. I expect you look like one in your nightdress and out, just as you do in your day clothes. You are a lovely woman, Hermione. You need not worry I will find you lacking." He cupped her face once more and kissed her temple. "Now come to bed. I wish to enjoy the after glow as I fall asleep."

Lucius was in mood. He had not expected progress with Hermione to stand still after a single night, however it had. His subtle suggestions that she join him again had gone by without a response. Now, today, he had seen the trollop in Diagon Alley canoodling with Potter.

He had left word with the house-elves to inform him the moment she arrived home. Lucius intended to find out how she had got around the prohibition placed on her regarding other men and see that she was punished for her promiscuous ways. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy, the witch would regret her decision to stray.

"Lucius, you'll never guess what—" Hermione was brought up short by Lucius pinning her to the door with his body. She shivered as a wave of desire washed over her. Draco had loved taking her by surprise that way and Hermione never failed to be aroused by it. Her body responded the same way now, trembling in anticipation. She could feel her nipples tightening and her knickers growing damp. Her mouth rounded and a soft moan escaped as he roughly palmed her breast.

This was not what he had planned. Lucius had thought to cow her into confessing her transgressions and then punish her severely for them. He had not anticipated the reaction the wanton witch would have to simply being pinned to the door. She was trembling, however it was not in fear. This was arousal. The hard points of her nipples could be felt through her clothes and his body responded with hardness of its own. Lucius palmed her breast, "How aroused you are, Hermione." The little slut moaned and he felt his trousers becoming uncomfortably tight. Lucius thumbed her nipple then pinched. The sound she made in response only encouraged him to increase the pressure. That she could be aroused again so soon after leaving Potter surprised him. "And so soon. You have a whore's body."

"Don't call me that," Hermione growled. She was willing to accept that he enjoyed calling her names but she was not willing to accept that one, especially not when he used the word so coldly. "Don't use that vile mud word either," she added, thinking to nip that idea in the bud in case it had occurred to him. It was one thing to call her slut when he was purring it in pleasure, but the way he'd used the word whore just then made her feel cheap and unappealing. It had been weeks since that night she'd brought them both off before sleeping in his bed. She had hoped he might ask her to join him again but all he'd done had made some vague references. After being the one to approach him last time, Hermione felt that she should wait. Wait she had done, and heavens she was pleased she had. Lucius' method of approaching her was very much the sort of thing she enjoyed, coarse language aside.

Lucius was surprised by her vehemence. Being pinned by a much larger person and roughly handled was not frightening her in the least. He wondered just how far he could go with her before she confessed her liaison with Potter, sobbing and pleading for him to stop. "You like it hard, witch." Lucius twisted both nipples in his fingers now as he bent to her ear and whispered, "Confess."

"Yes," she cried out as he pinched and twisted just the way she liked. "Harder, please. Please, harder." It had been so long since she'd been handled this way. She missed the glorious ache.

"Slut," he purred, releasing her only to grasp the bodice of her blouse and pull the edges apart, sending the tiny gold buttons flying from the crimson silk. Gryffindor colors he realized. "You wore this for Potter, did you not?"

"What? Oh! Yes. I did." Harry teased her once about turning Slytherin when she met him for lunch in green and silver. Draco had found it amusing and showed up the next day carrying her first crimson blouse with gold buttons for her to wear on her bi-weekly lunch dates with her dear friend. 'Better that Potter should be subjected to your full Gryffindorness,' he'd told her before kissing her soundly. It had been one of her husband's favorite ways of teasing her. He'd understood her relationship with Harry and never felt threatened by it. "I always wear red and gold when I meet him." She wasn't sure why Lucius was interested, other than she rarely wore the colors together at any other time. She'd always preferred shades of blue and green.

Lucius growled at the casual way she confessed. Pulling her arms up, he used her torn shirt to fasten them to the hook above her head. He would need to see about lowering the hook that had been placed for Narcissa's taller height when he wished to fasten her there for his amusement. He reached behind Hermione to unhook her brassier but was puzzled by the solid band.

"It opens in front, Lucius." Hermione was glad she was still in heels or else she'd had needed to be on her toes the way he had her attached. She tested the bonds to make sure nothing was too tight and also to gauge how much she could struggle without working herself loose. Her breath quickened when she discovered he'd made an excellent job of it. She loved being restrained.

Why she was aiding him while struggling to get away, Lucius did not understand. The clasp was another matter he failed to grasp. Finally, he withdrew his wand and holding it the fabric away from her body, he severed it loose.

"That was one of my favorites," Hermione chuckled. Her undergarment maker would be pleased. She'd not had much need of new things without Draco to shred them. The woman had lost a good bit of steady business when he'd died. The chuckle turned to a strangled cry when Lucius pinched almost unbearably hard. "Lucius!" Tears sprang to her eyes.

"You wished for something harder, slut. I intend to give it to you," he growled. "I shall have to have a set of clamps made for you." Lucius would see to it they were worn whenever she left the house to remind her to whom she belonged.

"I … have … Heavens … That hurts." It was not a complaint. "Um—Clamps. Clamps, I have some," she breathed heavily between words. Lucius laughed then, a rich, dark, deadly laugh and Hermione felt a fresh flood of wetness.

"By all means, then. Let us have them fetched. Whimsy!" He summoned the house-elf.

Whimsy was there before Hermione could object. She felt her entire body turn a deep red. The house-elf had seen her undressed before, but never in a sexual context.

"Bring your mistress' special toys," Lucius commanded, not bothering to turn his attention from Hermione. House-elves were there to serve and he had no qualms about using the creatures to fetch for him regardless of what position he was in.

"Master is wantings all of them?" The house-elf looked around the room in distress. "Is not fittings, Master."

"Draco and I have—had a special room, Lucius." Hermione was thankful the house-elf had covered her eyes with her long ears.

"Then, by all means, let us relocate," he said, waving away the house-elf as he lifted down Hermione's arms, keeping them bound as he led her bare breasted through the manor to the wing where she resided, stopping along the way to pinch and bite at her nipples to keep them hard. "Now show me," he commanded.

"Please, Lucius. Let me come." She ached for release and her nipples weren't as used to the sustained torment as they had been. Hermione had no idea why the man kept bringing up Harry while he teased and flogged her but she found it distracting. Every time she tried to float away, he returned to the subject.

"It is too bad that Potter could not satisfy you, slut. Now you shall have to wait until I am ready to—"

"Satisfy me?" Hermione blinked in confusion. "I know you're obsessed with Harry at the moment—though I have no idea why—but that's enough of that, Lucius. Just thinking about Harry trying to—No. No way." She understood from a distant perspective that Harry was very fanciable, but he'd always felt like family to Hermione. "It's like thinking of having sex with a brother."

"Then what were you doing whoring yourself with Potter in Diagon Alley today?" Lucius fisted her hair and yanked her head back, blunting asking and demanding an answer to the question he'd been subtly hinting at for the past half hour.

"I said not to call me that!" Hermione fumed. "Is that what this is about? You saw me hug Harry and kiss his cheek in congratulations and assumed—" It felt as if a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on her. When she shivered next, it wasn't from arousal. It was from anger. "Let … me … go," she said coldly and slowly. Hermione was furious. With Lucius for making such assumptions without simply asking for an explanation for something he didn't understand, but mostly with herself for not seeing that this hadn't been a pleasure game for him.

He had actually meant it as a punishment.

Lucius could not remember a time since finding out Draco had been singled out by the Dark Lord to kill Dumbledore where he had been so angry or felt so impotent.

He had not believed Hermione when she had claimed she only viewed Potter as a brother. He had not released her when she demanded it, and had even turned to inspect the implements on the wall for something stronger than the flogger he had been using to coerce the truth from her.

Lucius had turned back to find himself on the business end of the witch's wand. She had looked every inch the avenging goddess. Nude, flushed from battle with the flogger and strap, her hair virtually sizzling in her fury, Lucius had never seen a more glorious sight.

It was also the last thing he saw before waking up in an emptied room with a large knot on his head.

He had moved to door to hunt the witch down to finish what he had started and found a note stuck at his eye-level.

L —

Answer me this, if Harry wasn't like a brother to me, how was it possible for him to have kissed me in front of Draco and everyone else at my wedding when the bond was already in place?

How many times in the past have you seen me greet Harry or congratulate him in that same manner?

How many more times do you suppose Draco saw the same thing and was not bothered by it?

The next time you want answers, you might try simply asking some questions.

— H

A tight knot of the sort he had not felt since the end the war, settled in Lucius' stomach. The firm control he normally had over his actions had nearly fallen away. He had tried to hurt her, tried to use what he thought was her own promiscuity against her. Everything he had done to her had been met with enthusiasm. Instead of pleading with him to stop, Hermione had pleaded with him for more. The dark haze of his own arousal had made it so he had kept her on edge instead of going too far, still, how much longer would he have continued to hold back before he had done something that might truly have damaged her?

He could admit to himself that her last words of denial had probably brought him to that point.

Lucius found himself profoundly grateful for whatever she had done to free herself. He had broken faith with the family. He had nearly broken one of his own—one who had given herself to the Malfoy family of her own free will. Draco had understood her. He had deserved the honor. It was a hard thing for Lucius to accept that he himself did not.

Hermione didn't like to admit that she was frightened. When she and Draco had set up their playroom, as they'd called it, they had not only furnished it with all the elements they could desire for play, they had also charmed every inch of it for safety. All it had taken for Hermione to release herself from the frame Lucius had bound her to was a whispered safeword.

She hadn't even thought twice before retrieving her wand from her torn skirt and stunning him.

After transfiguring the shreds of her clothing into a dressing gown, she summoned the house-elves and asked them to help her hurry and pack up the room. They looked nervously toward their master but did as she bid. She'd then fled to her rooms where she tossed up every barrier charm she knew, including one she'd invented herself, and cried herself to sleep.

Scorpius and his grandfather stood when his mum excused herself to leave the dining room following supper for the third night in a row. Considering he'd only been home for three days, Scorpius was worried. His mother's letters had included less news of his grandfather lately, but Scorpius had accounted for it by assuming she'd been busy helping her friend Harry with that new youth center in Diagon Alley.

After watching how she'd scarcely looked at his grandfather through yet another meal and talked to him as little as possible, Scorpius had concluded that his grandfather must have done something very boneheaded and was too proud to apologize. Though Scorpius had heard stories of his mother's wrath, he knew that it wasn't her way to hold a grudge against someone who was honestly repentant.

"What did you do?" Scorpius confronted his grandfather once his mother had left the room and the gentlemen retook their seats.

Lucius hardly needed to ask to what the boy was referring. He had hoped that Hermione would let go of her anger once her son returned home for the summer. Apparently he had been wrong on that as well as her relationship with Potter. He wondered how long she would continue to hold his actions against him. "It is not your business, Scorpius. This is between your mother and myself."

He inclined his head, acknowledging that, but refused to drop the subject. "You should apologize, Grandfa."

"You do not know—"

Scorpius glared at him and dared to interrupt. "I know Mum. You did something that hurt her feelings. You should say you're sorry," he told him grandfather firmly. A Malfoy should always take responsibility for his actions. Malfoys also protected their own and his mum wasn't in the room at the moment to speak for herself. "Oh, and give her a hug. Mum likes hugs." He rose and tossed his napkin down on the table without waiting for permission to leave. "Excuse me. I don't think I'm in the mood for chess tonight." He went in search of his mother. If Grandfa wasn't willing to give her hugs when she needed them then Scorpius would.

"No, thank you. Excuse me." Hermione stood to leave. The last thing she wanted was to spend any more time around Lucius Malfoy than she absolutely had to for Scorpius' sake. She wouldn't force her son into taking sides. Scorpius was far too observant and perceptive not to notice her avoidance of his grandfather, however Hermione had resolutely refused to comment. She saw Lucius only at supper in company with her son unless the wizard happened to wander into the library or some other room she was using. In those cases, she would beat a hasty and guarded retreat rather than remain alone with him. She had even sent Lucius her monthly update on the housekeeping account in writing that morning rather than risk discussing the ledger in person.

"No, Hermione. Remain," he said firmly. "Scorpius, you are excused. I need a word with your mother." Lucius had been patient. The delivery of the household accounting this afternoon by owl when they lived in the same house was the final straw. "I wish to discuss the accounts." He did need to address them, however it was merely the first convenient reason he had for holding her beyond supper.

"There is nothing to discuss, Lucius. They are in order." As usual, she didn't bother to add. "I am well within budget as you saw."

"I also saw no accounting for your own personal expenses, Hermione." As mistress of the manor, she had funds allotted to her personally. She had never failed to utilize them prior to the incident, even if she spent far less for frippery than Narcissa had done. Hermione had often donated whatever of her share was left over at the end of the month to one of the many charities she supported. This month, as well as the last, she had not taken so much as a Knut for herself, nor had she given it away. "I thought perhaps you would like to have the mistress' portion sent to Potter's new youth center." The suggestion was a subtle way of making amends. Or so he thought.

Hermione rose with such speed, she knocked over her chair. "I am not your whore, Lucius. You can keep your money. And believe me, if I was not contractually obligated to live here, I would not accept room and board either. You can choke on the mistress' portion for all I care. I cannot be bought." She stormed from the dining room, slamming the door in her wake.
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Once a Malfoy, Always a Malfoy