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Wicked Waltz	By : TheTVJunkie Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 5525 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Harry Potter' or anything related to it. There's no money made off of my stories; no copyright infringement intended!

Chapter List
- 1-Puppet On A String?
- 2-Chapter 2 - Trading Barbs
- 1
- 2
"Now now, whom do we have here?" A sonorous voice drawled, startling Hermione. She spun around, a little squeak of shock escaping her. Busted.
Lucius had entered silently, sneaking up half-way into the dimly-lit room.
He tutted in overly dramatic fashion and Hermione defied her every instinct to roll her eyes.
"Trespassing is not a trivial offence, you know," The blond wizard shot her a smug smile, "I have every right to set my dogs on you."
"Trespassing???" The witch huffed, ignoring the idle threat, "I'm not trespassing, I was invited here in case that fact has slipped your mind!"
The Malfoy patriarch paid her little outrage no heed though, languidly propping his cane against one of the plush, richly upholstered wing back chairs nearby.
"I beg to differ," He stated matter-of-factly, slowly advancing her, "All guests have been granted access to the main building, and certainly not to my private wings."
"Ha," Hermione exclaimed, "I can assure you, I had no intention of ending up here," She jutted her chin up in defiance, "I lost my way and your surly house-elf gave me the wrong directions."
"Is that so?" Lucius inquired, drawling the words haughtily.
He spotted the opened bottle. "I see you deemed it appropriate to help yourself to my special Firewhisky,"
"I just needed something to calm my nerves," She conceded begrudgingly, realising too late that she had given away a piece of information she hadn't meant to.
"To calm your nerves?" He replied, an eyebrow raised in mock surprise, "What, pray tell, did upset you so much?"
Dead silence reigned between them for tense seconds.
"He knows! He knoooooows!" That godforsaken little voice piped up in Hermione's mind once again.
"Never mind," Hermione retorted before long, arms akimbo. "I'll pay for it then. How much for half a glass of your bloody booze?"
Lucius' lips quirked in amusement, "As much as I appreciate the gesture, I doubt you can afford it."
"That's ridiculous!" Hermione countered, her cankerous self easily triggered these days and obviously Lucius knew how to push her buttons all right. "I know how lowly you think of us Muggleborns, but even you must realise that our blood-status doesn't render us destitute as a logical consequence! Just name a price and I'll gladly pay it."
"Very well," Malfoy offered with a purposely badly stifled chuckle, "When I auctioned it, I paid the substantial amount of 5.500 Galleons for a single bottle."
"5.500 Galleons?" Hermione blurted, incredulous, quickly doing the math in her head – at the current exchange rate that was a good 27.000 pounds!
The witch visibly blanched. He was right; she had by no means the reserves to cover that insane sum. She did have some money but, true to colour, Hermione had scrimped and saved, putting it out at interest. Impulse buys were against her nature, let alone such ludicrous purchases.
A small bead of sweat rolled down her temple and she couldn't shrug off an ever-growing sense of foreboding.
"No Firewhisky can be worth that much," The witch claimed, irritated.
"Oh it can be, when it's 1.250 years old." Lucius replied suavely, overtly enjoying her fruitless attempts at wriggling herself out of the affair by means of common sense and logic.
"Ha! At that age it would have been undrinkable and taste like vinegar!" The witch insisted while she boldly stepped closer to him; her Gryffindor pride dictating her that she would not be cowed. Or at least, not as easily, that is.
"Did it taste like vinegar?" Lucius challenged.
Hermione inwardly cursed. "No."
"It was a good vintage, you know." The dark wizard crooned, steadily closing the distance between them and, much to the chagrin of her inner lioness, Hermione took a step back instinctively. Nervousness reared its ugly head, in addition to a strong, overshadowing feeling of dread which made her both uncomfortable, yet…excited. An emotion she only recalled from the times of war, so many a year ago.
Her heart began drumming faster at the memory.
"And if your sour expression is anything to go by, I presume you lack the necessary funds, don't you?" Lucius' words snapped her back to reality.
Again, an oppressive silence fell and the tension became painfully palpable.
The anxious witch mulled over her options quickly.
"No, I don't," Hermione said at length, through gritted teeth, and at a loss.
A devilish sneer tugged at Malfoy's lips whilst he closed in on the witch's personal space deceptively casual. "As I expected."
"Now," He added with a silken growl that went straight to Hermione's nether regions, "How do you intend to make atonement? Any…ideas?"
Hermione found herself holding her breath; the innuendo not lost on her. Her cheeks flushed furiously and she backed away in disgruntled embarrassment and quelled arousal.
"No," Hermione heard herself say, hardly audible. "None at all," She prayed for her words to sound more convincing than they did in her ears.
Lucius tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. For a moment, he seemed to consider her and, much to Hermione's surprise, retreated a couple of steps.
"Too bad," The dark wizard clipped, "In that case I see myself compelled to hand you over to the Aurors."
"I beg your pardon?" Hermione's cheeks still burned from the heady mix of emotions running through her, but his words effectively cut through her haze.
"Well," Malfoy began ticking points off on his fingers, his demeanour all business, "In addition to trespassing comes theft,"
"That's petty theft a best!" Hermione objected fiercely, not caring that she cut him short so rudely.
Lucius glared down his nose at her, "Considering the object's worth, this is a much more serious crime, especially since you can't, nor want," He enunciated the last two words, "To Compensate for its value."
He paused strategically, giving her time to let his words sink in.
Hermione was tied up in knots; she knew that she was indeed treading on dangerous ground. In legal terms, the cards were stacked against her. Thrice-damned, out-dated, Wizarding World law!
"Furthermore," Lucius purred as his eyes washed over her and stopped at the heavy tome, still in her hand. "I see we can add malicious injury of property to your case file as well. Touching library books ungloved," He reprimanded condescendingly, "One would think you of all people knew better…"
Book? Book!!! This is my out!
Relieved, the curly-haired witch triumphantly waved the cursed item she held.
"All right," she cooed, suddenly emboldened by her new-found perspective; "Send for the Aurors. I'm sure they'd be very interested in learning about this priced possession of yours," Hermione revelled in rather uncharacteristic, malicious glee.
"The consequences would be dire, or so I've heard," She gave him her sweetest faux smile, holding up the tome for him to easily recognise the title, "If I remember correctly the sentence for holding black-listed items is five to seven years in Azkaban…Maybe they might even give you your old cell…"
The belligerent witch was satisfied to see a little twitch on Malfoy's lips, although the rest of his face remained an icy façade.
"Touché," The dark wizard conceded gracefully after a moment of contemplation.
He purposefully took a step towards her, ire building underneath that cool veneer.
In response, Hermione straightened at the approach, unwittingly trying to make herself appear taller than she was.
"There are just some significant mistakes in your equation," Lucius growled, his voice suddenly so sinister it made the witch's skin crawl. The playful attempt at seducing her now gave lenience to an outright terrifying air of threat surrounding him, making goosebumps bloom across all over her flesh. And, much to her dismay, the ache between her legs pulsed madly.
"Which is?" She croaked, unwilling to let herself be easily intimidated by his physical presence looming over her much smaller frame. Not after she had stood her ground for so long!
Yet, unquenched need and ever-growing arousal clouded her mind at an alarming speed, rendering her usual wit and brilliance increasingly useless.
"This forbidden, cursed artefact," Lucius purred, pausing for effect, whilst Hermione desperately tried to seem calm and collected, "It has your fingerprints all over it, not mine. People might rightfully think it's yours. "
Hermione gasped at his shameless prevarication. Her eyes darted about as she tried to find a clever reply, to regain that feeling of secure success that had her flying high mere seconds ago.
"But it's painstakingly clear that this is your blasted book, not mine," she insisted stubbornly but lamely, "As a Muggleborn it would make no sense for me to indulge in such hateful, pureblooded nonsense tirades of…"
All of Hermione's remaining hope was ripped from her when the dark wizard dealt her a verbal death blow.
"Which brings us to your second, fatal mistake," Lucius concluded silkily, proudly presenting her with his web of lies he had come up with oh so cunningly.
"You're clearly trying to frame me,"
Hermione gulped at the audacious accusation.
"Which is why you came up with the clever idea of planting evidence in my library after you, obviously, gained entrance under the guise of attending the Ministry Ball," Malfoy kept spinning his vicious, fake progression of events while inching in on her ever closer. "The press is going to love this."
"I…what???" Hermione was completely gobsmacked. Only a Slytherin could have come with such a preposterous idea and have a good chance of getting away with it.
"In addition to all the aforementioned offences," The blond wizard hissed, raising a solitary, condescending brow, "The attempt of framing me might get you a prison sentence of at least, hm, five to eight years?" He made a show of looking thoughtful, "I still have a few connections in Azkaban, my dear; I might pull a few strings for you to get you my old cell. – It was the only one that had an actual window."
Hermione stared at Lucius in utter disbelief. She wanted to punch that unbearable haughtiness off his face, but her voice of reason bade her to keep her composure. Deep within, she knew that, with every impulse burst of temper, the hole she was digging for herself became deeper and wider.
So, as much as it riled her, she had no proof of things have happened differently. Pensive memories were non-eligible at court since they could be tampered with easily, hence it would be his words against hers.
She'd been both checkmated and outsmarted. A rare occurrence and Hermione took this very personally.
"Fine," Hermione forced herself to relent, "No Aurors then."
"No Aurors." Lucius agreed.
For long while neither of them spoke, they just kept glaring daggers at one another.
"It seems we're at an impasse," Malfoy eventually announced and Hermione nodded grudgingly.
Once again, the conversation descended into a charged, awkward silence.
Before long, Lucius gestured to Hermione, who still held the heavy tome firmly in her grasp.
"The book," He told her conversationally, "As you may have already noticed, is very soft to the touch, is it not?"
His tone was suspiciously nonchalant.
"Yes," Hermione stroked the spine reverently; it felt indeed very pleasant, like very fine leather, "What about it?"
"When my great grandfather acquired it he had it bound in, let's say," Malfoy gave her an evil grin, "Appropriate skin."
The penny dropped quickly, and Hermione flinched at the disgusting insinuation.
"Human skin???" She whispered, appalled.
"Think again," the dark wizard suggested, eyes glinting with unspoken truth.
"Muggle skin???" Hermione's face twisted in mortified horror.
"Mudblood skin," Lucius corrected her with unveiled delight, revulsion dripping from every syllable of the derogatory appellation.
Shell-shocked, Hermione's threw the book to the floor, recoiling as if burnt. Eyes wide, she jagged against the shelf behind her.
"Oh, spare me the hypocrisy," Lucius picked up the book and took yet another measured step towards her. "We are wont to bind books in animal skin," He leaned in closely, placing the heavy tome in the gap it had vacated, just beside her head.
Hermione's urge to flee kicked in. This was all too much. Too much horror, too much unresolved tension, and too much of her traitorous body taking over. She seemed no longer in control of herself and that scared the living daylights out of her. As if on cue, Malfoy kept his outstretched arm where he had placed the book; quite effectively blocking Hermione's way. With a wall next to her on the other side, Hermione had manoeuvred herself, in every sense of the word, to be in a tight corner.
"So you're implying that Muggleborns are animals?" The shaking witch heard herself say in a quavering voice. Her selfdefence mechanism, using anger as a shield, was crumbling.
"Why, you tell me," Lucius sneered at her, one aristocratic eyebrow raised, his lip twitching in patronising haughtiness. A combination intrinsically Lucius Malfoy. "You are one."
"I am not an animal," Hermione whispered, "I am not an animal," she repeated mantra-like, probably more in order to convince herself than the dark wizard who savoured the way the impertinent Mudblood lost her nerves, pressing herself harder against the bookshelf. He was so close to her she could feel the heat emanating from his body.
Gathering all of her remaining courage and willpower, Hermione ducked and slipped past Malfoy in front of her and the bookshelf behind her, tears welling in her eyes. Her only sane thought was Run!
"Fight or flight, Miss Granger," Lucius sardonic remark echoed after the exasperated witch, ringing in her ears as she fled into the depth, and false safety, of the library. "A very animal response, wouldn't you say?"
Laughter reverberated from the high, vaulted ceilings.
Hermione, running around like a headless chicken, quickly darted through the overabundance of narrow corridors and endless rows of bookshelves. Luckily she hardly made a sound, as she was bare-footed. The witch rounded corner after corner, only to find herself in a place she thought she'd been before and dead end after dead end. Her sense of direction was more and more ruptured the further she ventured in the all-encompassing semi-darkness, the eerie shadows dancing everywhere doing nothing to help her churning state of mind.
Frantically, she abruptly decided to hide underneath an opulent table, the centre-piece of a reader's corner, urgent to come back to her senses. Hermione tried to shallow her breathing, afraid it would give away her whereabouts.
Clutching her hands over her mouth she intently listened.
"Come out, come out," Malfoy spoke in a melodious sing-song voice, "There's no use hiding, you're never going to get away from me."
Hermione could hear his booted feet click on the marble floor, but apparently not all that close to her. His steps seemed to lead him in the opposite direction. The whole bizarre scenario reminded her of their encounter in the Hall of Prophecy at the Ministry of Magic.
"There's only one door in or out of my library," His voice sounded darkly, "And that is far out of your reach,"
Cautiously, Hermione poked her head around one of the massive table legs. If there was nowhere for her to go, she'd better keep constantly moving.
She just crouched out from underneath the table when she was unceremoniously grabbed by the hair and dragged up.
The scream of surprise that escaped her even baffled the distraught witch herself.
Her capturer, however, didn't seem impressed at all.
"So easily fooled by a simple spell of deceit, Miss Granger?" Lucius said dismissively, knotting a fist in her hair to hold her at bay, "I can't help, but be a little disappointed. I thought you'd prove to be more of a challenge."
In response to the continued and severe disparagement she'd been subjected to the whole evening, something in Hermione snapped. She began kicking and screaming, eager to break away, trying to slap him, scratch him, bite him, but to no avail.
The blusterous witch was easily wrestled to the ground, supine, no match for a grown wizard. Hermione knew she had the chances of a snowball in hell trying to dislodge him, let alone without her wand at the ready. Lucius straddled her thighs in order to stop the furious kicking, let go of her hair, and easily caught her wrists in his grip, pinning them to the floor beside her head.
"Leave me the fuck alone," She snapped, "I am not an animal! I am not your prey!" A broken sob ended her temper tantrum, her voice a mere whisper now, "I am no lesser."
Long seconds ticked by while neither of them spoke nor moved. Hermione slowly calmed down and it was just then that she realised the delicate situation she was in. As her anger slowly ebbed away, her arousal surfaced with a vengeance and she was too exhausted to fool herself in pretending her body did not welcome Lucius' touch.
Pupils dilated with desire, her heart began to thrum violently anew when, most unexpectedly, Lucius leaned down to kiss her.
She felt his grip loosening and then her wrists were free, yet she dared not to move them in fear of forcing another go at restraining her.
"Yet here you are," Lucius conceded evenly, "All flustered and wanton like some bitch in heat, every ounce of your body betraying your attraction to me." His mouth grazed the shell of her ear as he whispered, "I can smell you, little witch. There's no use denying it."
Hermione cringed at the bitter truth of his statement, listening with bated breath as he continued.
"Don't be too hard on yourself," Lucius sat up, smirking at her knowingly, "You gave yourself away the very moment you set foot on the dance floor with me,"
Unexpectedly, some part of Hermione's feisty spirit shortly won out over her mesmerisation, "Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy; any men could have roused that reaction from my sex-starved self today."
"Really?" Lucius replied in feigned indignation, before adding silkily, "Then you are more of a tramp than I'd given you credit for."
Hermione blinked, much to her surprise his jibe held no vitriol; it almost seemed as if he was just teasing her. If he had really wanted to force himself on her, he could have done so already, multiple times, that is. Was he tricking her again? Baiting her with the illusion of free will?
She pouted, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "I hate you and everything you stand for!"
"The feeling is mutual," Lucius countered skilfully, in a voice steeped in sex and want. His thumb stroking the hollow of her throat evoked, yet again, massive arousal at the same pace as fear of being choked to death in the supine witch.
Further protest did on her lips as Lucius' lips came crashing down on hers again, searing her.
One of his hands started roaming over her hip and thigh until it found the walking slit at the side. It was easily ripped, as was her skimpy underwear, allowing the front of her dress being pushed above her hips.
The sound of tearing the fabric made Hermione shudder with anticipation and in an unexpected semblance of boldness she pushed hard, rolling atop of a baffled Lucius Malfoy, likewise straddling him as she, beset with bravado, fumbled with his crested belt buckle. Amused, he let her do as she pleased for a little while, only manhandling her back into a position of his liking, namely on her back and vanquished, when she had finally managed to free his cock, pulsing and rock-hard, from his offending garment.
"Not fair!" Hermione protested as she mock-struggled in his grip, hands held securely above her head.
"Everything is fair in love and war," The dark wizard quoted, sneering down at the panting witch as she wriggled and writhed beneath him at his assault.
Hermione snorted, very unladylike. "This is hardly love,"
"No?" Lucius quipped hoarsely before silkily concluding, "Must be war then."
That said, he roughly plunged into her with humiliating ease; eliciting a strangled gasp from Hermione. The initial pain was excruciating and exquisite and she wouldn't have wanted it any other way. All self-control deserted her and she arched her back, bringing up her hips to meet his punishing, unrelenting thrusts, craving his violent touch with a fierce desire she never would have thought possible.
All of Hermione's denied daydreams - and vivid nightmares - whisked away under the blinding rapture of reality, her brain effectively shutting down and blocking out all enmity that had ever been between them.
Loins slapping loudly against her arse, Hermione was rendered completely incoherent, Lucius grunting and muttering strings of profanity in ecstatic bliss on top of her. He gripped the back of her legs and lifted them up over his shoulders, the position allowing even deeper penetration, and drove into her hard again.
Hermione's eyes rolled into the back of her head when she felt herself teetering on the edge and she climaxed with a carnal wail, a flash of pained pleasure raging through her with such force she lost all sense of place, the sensation sending sparks of light shooting behind her eyelids.
Face awash in utter bliss, Lucius' movements became frantic at Hermione contracting around him, so he flung his head back in the final stretch, his orgasm blistering through him as he burst deep inside her, all the while roaring his completion.
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A/N: So, that's it. Steamy sex after lots of bickering and tons of unresolved sexual tension. I hope you enjoyed this little journey! I surely did.^^ Please let me know what you think!
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Wicked Waltz