Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 45
- 46
- 47
A/N: Well crap. This took way longer than I planned. But it turned out I had to completely rethink and rewrite this chapter from scratch. The original, although hot, wasn’t what the story really needed. And thus, the current chapter 46 was born.
I am feeling way better (which has, conversely, hindered my writing). My stomach problem was extremely bad gastritis (inflammation of the lining of the stomach) and the fix is an easy one; it’s just going to take a while to heal itself. (Thank you again for all your well wishes.) But once I was feeling better, I couldn’t stand to sit still. (Three months of being in bed will do that to you.) So I’ve actually been busy doing other stuff and—*gasp*—leaving the house. It’s been quite exciting.
But I’m back in the writing groove now, and I’ve been poring over this for a couple weeks, so hopefully you all enjoy it. The next chapter shouldn’t take nearly as long, as it’s in decent shape right now and only needs my obsessive, repetitive editing. See you soon. (Knock on wood.)
P.S. Thank you for all the reviews. They keep me going.
Castledragonrose: Thank you so much for the kind review, and I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story. There are 83 total chapters (chapter 83 is the epilogue). And you are very right to be wary of the other shoe :) We have a few more chapters before it drops though. Some important things need to happen first. Thank you for the well wishes too. I promise I’m always taking care of myself (but my body doesn’t always listen). Hope you like what’s coming up <3
DS: 39-“So Severus is still wishing for a future as a foursome? When will he feel the need to take her as his own? Or won’t he?” Hmm, that’s a complicated answer. Once you read the rest of the chapters, the picture might be a little clearer. Snape is a bit more pragmatic than the other two. (Although that shifts as things progress.)
40-“I’m still waiting for more clues to what is going to happen . . . or maybe they have been there all along . . . no doubt! :)”
So many clues :) (But they’ll probably only be obvious in hindsight.)
46—Andante Con Moto
“You treat me like I'm a princess. I'm not used to liking that. You ask how my day was. You've already won me over in spite of me. And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet. Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are. I couldn't help it; it's all your fault.”—Alanis Morissette
(Hermione) 
Hermione found herself in a field of wildflowers; sprays of vibrant color dotted the tall green grass like confetti. Draco was naked atop her, and judging by the lance jabbing her thigh, he was ready to fuck her al fresco. Locking her in his arms, he rolled to his back and smiled delightedly as she rose above him. The wind picked up, blustering through the flowers and swirling her hair into a blizzardy beehive. She pushed back a few blinding strands and felt the first warm drops of rain spatter her arm. But when she looked to the sky, she saw no storm clouds. How strange.
It was just a light drizzle—actually rather pleasant. Refreshing. Going inside wouldn't be necessary; plus she didn't want all that good cock to go to waste. Draco pulled her back down for another snog, and she pressed her bare body to his, eager for his affectionate embrace. As their fervor grew, the rain began to fall faster, going from a spotty sprinkle to light precipitation.
“I love you,” he murmured against her mouth.
Hermione grabbed the back of his head and snagged him senseless. With a heady groan, he held her as tightly as he could, tumbling her over the cool grass and flattening the flowers like a steam roller. When she was back on top again, she pried her lips from his and grinned down at him. “I love you too. Do you think you’re ready to tell me what you really want now?”
“What I really want?”
“You don’t have to hide anymore. It’s okay. You can tell me.”
His brow knitted, and he glanced about, as if searching for witnesses. Finding none, Draco sighed and, avoiding her gaze, fingered a blade of grass that had become plastered to her nipple. “I . . . I want you,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “in my arse.”
“You’re a very naughty boy,” she giggled. “Does Nanny Granger need to show you how to be good again? I think we should st—“
“Hermione.”
Was that Severus? She looked around for a body to go with the voice, but they seemed to be alone in the field.
“Hermione.”
She blinked open her eyes to find Snape stroking her face. In bed. No flowers anywhere. Draco was behind her, and although he was naked and erect, he seemed to be laughing too hard for a successful field-fuck.
Closing her mouth, which must have fallen open in her sleep, Hermione fought the buzzing grogginess clogging her brain. “Wha’s wrong?”
“Nothing much,” Snape replied lightly. “We just found it difficult to sleep through your somnambulant leg-humping. And I definitely can’t sleep with someone biting my nipple.”
What? “I was not.”
“Yes, you were,” Lucius chirruped. “And moaning. Loudly.”
Snape's uncompromising hand guided her head back to his chest. “We would’ve let you finish yourself off, but you were getting pretty physical.”
“Was I really?”
“Mm-hm.” Draco wiggled his stiff cock between her cheeks, as if putting it to bed for the night, and then curled the rest of his body into her back. “You woke up my dick. Now he doesn’t want to go to sleep.”
Grinning, Hermione rolled her hips against him. “You didn’t spunk me, did you? I dreamt it was raining.”
Draco snickered. “No, I didn’t. Maybe you were spattering yourself with the cum leaking out of your pussy.”
Snorting at the mental image, she slipped her hand between Lucius's palm and Snape's chest, drawing a sleepy smile from her other blond bedmate. “Could be. You’d better hold me down tonight to keep me from hurting anyone.”
Draco tightened his arm around her. “Can do. Night, Hermione.”
“Goodnight again, love.”
He kissed her head one more time, and Hermione swore she could hear him smiling. She wanted to tell him she loved him but didn’t know if she should blurt that out in front of Severus and Lucius. The two older men might be jealous, and she wasn't sure how Draco felt about publicly declaring their feelings toward one another; he'd been rather secretive in the playroom.
She’d ask him later. When she was more awake.
And who knew, maybe if Severus and Lucius saw how well things had gone for Draco, they'd be inspired to admit how they felt too.
Love could be contagious like that.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
Monday evening, Hermione trudged home from the Ministry. Alone. Draco had to attend some kind of international liaison dinner, so he was staying behind. Apparating to the manor without him by her side felt disconcerting. The lack of groping left her oddly adrift. And what would she do when she got home? How was she supposed to fill her time before dinner? Severus had been tied up in his experimentation lately; he probably wouldn’t be game for anything until after dessert. Would Lucius pick up the snogging slack in Draco’s absence? Was he even home yet?
She got her answer as soon as she stepped through the front door. Lucius was waiting for her in the foyer, looking even more ravenous than usual.
“Hello, princess” he murmured as he drew her in for a kiss, his lips warm and welcoming. “Did you have a nice day? I missed you. Let’s go upstairs.”
Hermione burst into a surprised laugh. He wasn’t beating around the bush, was he? “I have to go say hello to Severus first. He likes to know when I get home.”
“He’s just down there cursing at his cauldrons. Leave him to his potions, love.”
Hermione stood on her toes and pulled Lucius down for another kiss. “I’ll meet you in the playroom in a few minutes.” Her fingers wandered over his placket, and she felt him grow hard in her hand. “Don’t you dare start without me.”
He smiled and, as she spun around, smoothed his hand over her arse. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
“Mmm!” she growled, leaning into his touch. “I promise I’ll be right back.”
He patted her bum, and she set off, racing through the halls and clambering down the steps to the dungeon. It was a bit nicer down there since the renovation, but heels and flagstone floors didn't mix well. She almost turned her ankle on a cobbled corner. 
Arriving safely, she found Severus hard at work, hunched over his favorite cauldron. Onyx eyes narrow and hard, he methodically stirred the contents within, his posture wired with concentration. Not wanting to interrupt him, Hermione remained silent and gently slipped her arms around his waist for a behind-the-back hug.
“Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen . . .” he counted under his breath, his focus unwavering, but his left hand communicated his pleasure by stroking her fingers. When he reached twenty-one, he pulled the stirring rod from the viscous green goo and set it on the counter.
“How was work today?” he muttered.
“Productive. How was brewing today?”
“Complete and utter bollocks. This is my third attempt.”
“Want me to help?”
He shook his head. “It’s probably best for everyone concerned that you find Lucius as soon as possible. He took half the day off work, and he’s been positively despondent about your continued absence. Why don’t you go see if you can get him settled down before dinner.”
Hermione smiled at Snape’s euphemism. “Okay. We’ll be in the playroom if you want to join us.”
His attention had shifted to the rising level of sludgy brown liquid filling his beaker, but he managed to mutter an absent, “Yes,” in reply.
Hermione knew when he was lost in his work, and she refused to become a nuisance. Kissing his back, she unwound her arms and left him to his brewing. 
Just as she stepped into the corridor, he called after her, “Hermione!”
She looked back in alarm. “Yes?”
Severus was silent for several seconds, his profile blank, as if there hadn’t been a clipped urgency in his voice only a moment before. Bracing both hands on the counter, he sighed and dropped his head. “I missed you today.”
Hermione stood there, dumbfounded. Had she seriously just heard a voluntary admission of tender longing from Snape? That couldn’t be—not unless . . . Had someone forgotten to tell her hell had frozen over? She didn’t know how to respond. But she knew she'd better think of something fast, or he might never say anything ever again. “I missed you too. You know, I think about you all day, Severus. All the time.”
His shoulders drooped, the tension fading, and he lifted his head but didn’t turn to look at her. “I’ll come and get you when dinner’s ready.” Picking up a phial of white powder, he went back to his brewing as if nothing had happened.
Hermione nodded, giving him one last thoughtful look before heading to the stairs. She honestly never knew what was coming next with him; he was quite a conundrum. His affection seemed to come only in small bursts . . . at certain times. Sex brought out a softer side of him, but normal, everyday situations were often stilted by uncertainty. For someone who could purr out the most devious sexual ideas without batting an eye, he was tight-lipped when it came to heart-felt confessions. She knew exactly how hard it must have been for him to risk everything and give voice to those four simple words. He’d admitted something personal, and he’d done so with no prompting. His spontaneity and initiative were just as impressive as the sentiment.
Blinking back a rush of tears that sprang from out of nowhere, Hermione smiled to herself, almost laughing at the lightness dancing through her soul. She had a feeling there was an avalanche of emotion in that man just waiting for the right rock slide. But until she found the load-bearing stone that, when plucked, would crumble his walls, all she could really do was keep telling him how much he meant to her. And hugs. She would hug him until he was blue in the face. Chipping away all that hurt and mistrust would take time, which, fortunately, she had plenty of.
When she got back to the kitchen, she dried her eyes on a tea towel by the stove and peered into the oven. Some kind of casserole bubbled inside, and she was grateful she’d have something heartier than cum to fill her belly soon. Not that she wasn't looking forward to a serving of semen—Lucius was particularly tasty. Her pussy twitched at the thought of Malfoy waiting for her in the playroom. He’d seemed awfully eager to get her up there, and she was damn curious to find out what he had in store.
‘Then what’re you doing down here?’ her pussy demanded. ‘Malfoy needs just as much lovin’ as Snape. You’d better go hug down some of those defenses while he’s in the mood.’
Inspired by Muffy’s words of wisdom, Hermione ran up to the second floor, scampering around the corner, and falling out of her heels in the process. She doubted she'd need them. 
When she burst into the room, she found Lucius pacing the floor, but when he saw her, he hurried over with a relived smile.
“There you are. Was Severus still brooding over his cauldron?”
She nodded. “How long has he been down there?”
“Most of the day. He went down after lunch.”
“Did you give him a good luck kiss for better brewing results?”
Lucius laughed as if that was absurd. “I’ve explained this to you before—that’s not how we do things. Kissing Severus is strictly foreplay. It’s not like you and I, where we just do it whenever the mood strikes.”
“Maybe you should.”
His smile became more wistful. “Severus isn’t like you, love. He doesn't welcome my attention at all hours of the day. Snape kisses when it suits him.”
“He snogs me whenever I please. Maybe you just need to ask.”
Lucius chuckled and moved in close, the heat of his chest setting her nipples alight. Placing his hand to the side of her face, he let his fingers drift along her cheek. “You have a knack for bringing out Severus’s better half. I’m not even in the same league.”
Hermione smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist, raking her nails down the back of his crisp white shirt. “Sure you are, and I like it when you and Severus are sweet to each other.”
Lucius pulled her in so her head rested on his chest, and then he placed a kiss to her bushy crown. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me sweet except you. And I’m positive no one’s ever called Severus sweet . . . and lived to tell about it.”
“Narcissa never told you you were sweet?” That sounded improbable.
“Narcissa told me I was many things, but sweet wasn’t really in her vocabulary. Or perhaps she thought the word would piss me off.”
“But you are . . . you know . . . when you’re not sneering at everyone and sticking your nose in the air—you’re very sweet.”
He held her tighter. “I wasn’t always the way I am now. After the nightmare of those last years before the final battle, I didn’t have much time with Narcissa. Things were tense. And . . .”
He remained silent, and Hermione wondered if he’d forgotten what he was going to say or if he just didn’t want to say it. “And you changed even more after she died,” she whispered, hoping he wasn't offended by her presumption.
“Yes,” he breathed into her hair. “Maybe I was never sweet to her.”
“What! How could even think that? Of course you were sweet to her. You adored her. You still do.” Hermione hugged him harder when she felt his body go rigid. “And I think that’s wonderful. Your love is so strong not even death can diminish it.”
“You’re not upset that I’m in love with another woman? A dead woman.”
Hermione squeezed him with all her might. She couldn’t believe he was openly discussing something so painful. Did Slytherins save up their most uncomfortable conversations for one particular day? “No, I’m not upset. It tells me that you don’t take love lightly, that it means everything to you. And just because you love Narcissa doesn’t mean you don’t care about me. Or Severus. Or Draco. You can hold as many people in your heart as you want to. There’s no maximum capacity.”
"I don't know what I did to deserve you,” he whispered, “but I’m damn glad Draco caught you masturbating in my library.”
Hermione laughed into his chest. He was getting uncomfortable; she could hear it in his voice. She’d go along with his lighthearted lead; he’d been brave enough for one day. “Not as glad as I am that I saw you and Severus going at each other like a pair of horny Nifflers.”
“A fortunate night indeed.” He pressed his mouth to the top of her head and sighed contentedly. “I missed you so much today, princess. I almost went to the Ministry to hunt you down.”
“I’m glad you restrained yourself. I’d have quite a time explaining why Lucius Malfoy was shagging me on my desk.”
He barked out a laugh and tipped back her head to look in her eyes. “That shagging is overdue. I hope you’re ready to pay the penalty.”
“With interest,” she assured him.
Lucius chuckled as he leaned down to kiss her. “I can’t compete with your percentage rate.”
His tongue darted past her lips, and Hermione was caught off guard by the desperation hovering just beneath his desire. She knew that kiss. Some days Lucius needed more from her, more patience, more care, more attention. And Hermione was always eager to meet his needs, because it meant she got to see Lucius in a rare state of vulnerability. But while she relished those brief moments of transparency, she was always left wondering if she'd handled them correctly. Was there something she could do that would encourage more from him? What did he need most? Draco’s rampant vulnerability required nurturing, but she couldn’t very well coo at Lucius and tell him what a good boy he’ been. Lucius didn’t want to be taken care of—he wanted to do the caring . . . or, more precisely, the providing.
He needed to be someone’s hero, someone’s man. He needed to be her rock . . . and her love—because he wasn’t made of stone. Well . . . parts of him were, but so much of what he sought to hide was soft and giving. He seemed to revel in romance, longing to be her white knight both in and out of the bedroom. She didn’t currently need rescuing, but she understood the value of a good quest to make a man feel successful.
Keeping her lips to his, but pulling back so she could speak, Hermione whispered against his mouth, “I need you, Lucius. Inside me. Make me come. Hard. Make me scream.”
He growled and sealed his mouth to hers. His kiss gradually became less desperate and more purposeful, his tongue sure and calm. She sank into him, letting the weight of her body fall into his arms so he supported her full weight. His hands were everywhere, gripping her rump and drawing her against the hard heat of his distended trousers.       
Hermione bucked against the solid line of his arousal. “Please, Lucius,” she panted. “Need you.”
His hands moved to her waist, and as he slid them up her sides, he drew out her top so its wrinkled tails were pulled from her skirt. “Let me undress you first, love. I’ve been taking off your knickers in my head all damn day. Give me a chance at the real thing.”
Hermione smiled and went for his belt. “Gods, yes. Tell me what you thought about.”
His breath was warm on her face, his words buzzing her skin, “Your buttons opening one . . . by . . . one.” He pulled them free as he spoke. “Your breasts . . . wrapped in satin and lace.”
Her nipples stiffened as he parted her shirt and exposed her flimsy bra. The one he’d bought for her in Italy.
Lucius hummed approvingly and slipped off her blouse with one hand. “Satin and lace that I chose especially for my pretty little princess. Sweet Circe, how are you even more beautiful than I imagined?”
Smiling, Hermione let her head fall back, exposing her chest fully. He buried his face in her neck, and an unintelligible cry leapt to her lips. When his teeth scraped the curve of her throat, her body erupted in gooseflesh, and she was instantaneously transformed into a bundle of raw nerves, her skin blazing under his touch, her rational mind fleeing the scene. The smooth expanse of his palm skimmed along her lower back, and her heart began to pound when he began to follow the path of her spine north. He must have felt the pulse in her neck throbbing under his tongue. How could he miss it? It felt as if her arteries were about to explode
The back of her bra popped open, and she shivered as his fingers wandered beneath the loosened cups. His hands covered her, lifting her, and she gasped when the pad of his thumb brushed the tip of one turgid nipple. “Yes!”
Lucius grunted in response and ran one perfectly manicured thumbnail around the perimeter of her areola.
Her body started to quake, and a shot of lubrication dripped into her knickers like melted ice cream. Merlin, Circe, and Morgana! How was she so wet already?
Tearing at his placket, she reached for the thick assurance of his passion. Her fingers dove into his silk boxers, and she clasped his unyielding flesh in her hand, needing to feel the power of him surging in her grip.
“Mmgh!” His growl swerved as she stroked him from root to tip. “Careful, princess. I’ve been nursing that all day. It’s likely to go off without warning.”
Hermione looked up, her eyes meeting his, and the immensity of his desire slammed into her like a wrecking ball. Breathless, she stared at him in wonder. There was so much she felt for him in that moment she couldn’t separate one emotion from another: love, lust, affection, need, want, strength, care, devotion, give, take, soul, body, stamina, home, repentance, foundation, beauty . . .
It was everything Lucius made her feel, everything he represented. . . but so much more, because, ultimately, it was impossible to differentiate the sand from the beach. 
Lucius was Lucius. And she loved him for who he was as a whole, good or bad. He was hers. And she wanted him so much it hurt.
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
His steely eyes glinted. “What did you say?”
Tipping back her head, Hermione dropped her arms so her bra slithered to the floor. “Make love to me. Make me yours.”
Growling low, possibly in warning, Lucius touched his lips to her shoulder. His breath spilled over her back and dripped down her shoulder blade like warm caramel. “Your wish is my command.”
Her knees went soft, and Lucius urged the rest of her body to follow their lead. Bracing her spine with one hand, he dipped her low—so low the room upended, and Hermione’s head began to spin. His mouth met the taut skin stretched over her sternum, and he glided through the valley separating her breasts before swooping left to capture her nipple. Crying out, Hermione went limp, encouraging him to continue. His teeth and tongue battled one another for dominion over her ripe tits, but it was his lips that proved victorious. He latched on and sucked until her skin burst to a flame in his mouth.
The heat consumed her. “Lucius!”
Quick as a whip, he pulled her back up, his face an inch from hers, his eyes and lips swirling in her vision. The glimmering pools of his pupils had expanded at least three fold, and Hermione found herself mesmerized by his gaze.
Grasping her hips in his iron grip, Malfoy pulled her against his groin, giving her a taste of his potency, and then he spun her around so her bum got the benefit. “Bend over.”
His voice crackled with need, and the sound rattled through her sex like an orgasmic gong. Shuddering violently, she practically fell forward, onto the enormous leather ottoman. Lucius tore her skirt to the floor but growled in frustration when he found his path barred by nylon.
“No,” he grunted, as if furious with her pantyhose. “Stockings or nothing.” And with that, he ripped those down as well, leaving her in just her knickers, the rest of her clothes puddled around her feet. “This,” he hissed, crouching down, his mouth roving over her sensitized skin, “is what I’ve been dreaming about all day.”
His lips brushed the underside of her buttock, and Hermione’s knees gave out.
But she didn’t fall. 
His arms kept her aloft. Safe. 
“Shall I make this mine as well?” he murmured, lips tickling her bum.
“Uuunnh!”
His mouth continued to sample her backside as he drew her knickers over her hips and down her legs; his ragged exhalations blasted her fissure like magma spewing from the bowels of a volcano. She couldn’t control her body, which trembled with spastic tremors as he neared her sex. When his nose traced the borders of her pussy, sniffing at her lust, the Richter scale shot up to ten, and she almost jittered herself off the ottoman.
Lucius didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. Palming one cheek, he spread her open, and Hermione’s eyes went wide as the tip of his wand grazed her crack. His muttered incantation spread through her, and the minty high left her riding the edge of climax. It wasn’t quite enough to push her over, but the sudden arrival of his tongue got her a hell of a lot closer.
“Ahhhhhhh!”
Bloody hell! Who would have guessed that such a fastidious man would be such a dirty arse-eater? There was no hesitation; his tongue flickered directly over her anus, the tip of it slipping inside for the occasional teasing taste. Overwhelmed by his insistence, Hermione found herself temporarily incapable of vocalization. For at least a minute, her mouth opened and closed, but despite her valiant efforts, no sound emerged.
Until his tongue shot all the way up her arse.
Then she had a whole lot to say.
“Oh bloody fucking bugger! Please Lucius! Fuck me. Fuck my arse. Please! I can’t take this anymore!”
He murmured agreeably, and Hermione’s hips went mad, desperate to get his wicked tongue as deep as it could go. “Pleasepleaseplease! Lucius!”
With a final plunge and swirl, he drew back and ran one hand down her bum. “Step out of your clothes, love.”
She did as he asked, her feet fumbling with the floor.
“On your hands and knees,” he murmured. “I have a surprise for you.”
A surprise? Holy fucking hell! Witches who couldn’t walk shouldn’t be subjected to any unnecessary surprises.
“That’s it . . . just arch your back. Let’s get you comfortable.”
Although the ottoman was thick and cushioned, she was beyond any hope of comfort; until she came, the tension binding her pelvis would only sharpen.
Lucius moved into her peripheral vision, and Hermione looked up at him, praying her expression conveyed the severity of her need, because she didn’t think she could form a sentence coherent enough to beg for mercy. And he didn’t appear much more rational. His shirt had been discarded, and she could see the steep expansion of his abdomen with every quick breath. Her brain automatically accepted his lust-addled respiration, but she was mystified by his missing shirt. When had he taken it off? And why hadn’t he taken it off sooner? That man should never wear clothes. Seeing him standing over her—bare chested, his trousers open, cock tenting his boxers—was like being smothered in sex. She couldn’t breathe.
He must have found her delirium somewhat amusing, because he smiled softly when she met his eye. Running the tip of his wand along the ottoman, he nodded at her knees, and Hermione looked down to see what had drawn his attention.
The leather beneath her shifted, the area below her belly growing outward, rising toward her. She watched it dumbly. It was difficult to process mutating furniture when she could think of nothing except sating her body with his therapeutic cock. Why wasn’t he fucking her yet? Was this really the time to redecorate? 
When the surface had grown into a large leather wedge, the high end poised to prop up her hips, it froze, and Hermione looked to Lucius for an explanation. His trousers were gone, and she blinked at him in shock, assuming the sight of him stroking his swollen cock to be a hallucination. It wasn’t. How had he gotten out of his trousers so fast? Did he vanish them? Wasn’t that a rather wasteful way to undress?
“Just a few more alterations,” he muttered.
His wand tapped the wedge, and Hermione watched it carefully to see what would change. A pronounced hump swelled in the center of the highest peak, and something sprouted up from the rear like a thick antenna.
“And my favorite piece,” he said as he walked behind her and retrieved an object from the bureau.
Hermione strained to see what was in his hands, but she couldn’t make it out before he knelt down behind her. Something soft brushed her inner thigh, and she moaned as it trailed around her groin toward her pelvis. Peeking between her legs, she watched as he slid his new white fur mitten to the hump below her and, with his wand, affixed it to the leather. He grabbed the protrusion at the back and lowered it out of sight, his other hand patting her bum so she’d lie flat.
“Relax your body,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you.”
A shiver rolled up her spine, and the words, “Yes, sir,” sprang to her lips unheeded.
Lucius’s chuckle sounded oddly like choked arousal. “While I enjoy hearing that, I am not your sir, princess.” His hands guided her down so her clit rested directly against the fur speed bump at the corner of the wedge. “Save that master and commander shit for Severus. You know what I like to hear.”
Hermione smiled and pressed her cheek to the cool leather. For some unknown reason, she wanted to cry again, except this time it felt more like relief than incredulous joy. Her body went slack, and she spread her legs as wide as she could. “I need you, Lucius.”
The ottoman dipped as he knelt behind her, the bristly warmth of his legs touching hers. Satin soft, his glans bumped her rump, and Hermione arched her back to invite him in, which, as per his plans, mashed her clit into the silken fur between her thighs.
“Uuuuungh!”
“I thought you might enjoy that. Let’s see if you like this as well.”
Holding her breath, she sank her teeth into her lower lip, gnawing it raw as he eased something into her pussy, something she’d never used before. It wasn’t hot or thick enough to be his cock, but it was insanely smooth like the velvet skin of his knob. There was a lot of give to it, yet it held its shape, parting her walls and filling her full.
Lucius leaned over her back and pushed her hair aside to whisper in her ear. “How’s that feel?”
Licking her lips, Hermione searched for the right words to describe the anxious energy warping her core. “It’s nice.” Her voice broke with need. “But it’s not you. Please, Lucius. I can’t wait any longer.” That time, her voice hitched, and she swallowed down the desperate sob that threatened to escape.
“I’m right here,” he whispered reassuringly, and with one hand, he reached between her cheeks and swiped a huge pool of lube across her arse. “Let me just make sure you’re ready.”
Two slippery fingers dipped into her back passage, and her lower half automatically relaxed, as if she’d been trained to associate anal fingering with total submission. Except she hadn’t been taught any such thing—and despite her outward physical response, her body was actually on the brink of an explosive release; she could feel it building, the telltale tingle of imminent orgasm rushing over her senses.
Another finger breached her back door, and Lucius’s appreciative groan tickled her neck. Pulling out, he grabbed hold of his dick and gave it a few fast pulls to spread the lube along his length. She could feel the sloppy wet meat of his head brushing her arse, leaving behind a cluster of tantalizing damp streaks. Her pussy pulsed with anticipation, and a deluge of juice seeped out around the intruder in her vagina.
“Tell me you want me,” he breathed in her ear. “Tell me you’re mine.”
Her head careened in five different directions at once, the need in her so great she couldn’t see straight. The pressure of his swollen manhood rested against her twittering hole, and if she’d had any kind of leverage, she would have flung herself backward and speared herself on his pike. Incapacitated as she was, her arse jammed up into the air so the blood rushed to her head, all she could manage was a broken, pleading wail that stuttered into dry sobs of agony.
“Shhhhhhhh,” he purred, edging into her bum. “It’s all right. Feel that? Feel how full you are? Isn’t that nice?”
As soon as he passed the first tight ring of resistance, Hermione was struck by the vast meaning of the word full. The faux phallus in her pussy seemed to swell inside her, pressing against her front wall with each gentle thrust. Everything was packed tight. She could feel every vein in his shaft, every twitch, every pulse.
“Aaaaaaah-h-h-h,” she whimpered into the leather, her panting exhalations hot against her own face.
He went still. “Are you all right?”
She nodded furiously.
The slow incursion resumed. “Thank Merlin. I think I might have lost my mind if you’d asked me to stop.” He rocked in and out of her, loosening her up and plunging a bit deeper with each advance. “Gods, I needed this! I missed you so much today, love.”
His hand wrapped around hers, and Hermione smiled as a snuggly stream of warmth trickled through her stomach.
He bottomed out, his pubic hair rasping her cheeks, and there was a sparkling moment of pure ecstasy as their bodies fitted together like magic. Hermione was about to pop, her pussy bulging with bonus cock, but it was his shaky breath on her neck that propelled her toward the finish line. He might’ve been simply fighting the urge to come, but she knew restraint wasn’t the sole cause of his rattled panting. That he could be so overwhelmed by her—just as she was by him—made her heart ache.
It ached for the man he had once been . . . and the man he endeavored to become. But most of all, it ached for the man he was now, the one buried balls deep in her arse who wanted nothing more than to fill her life with pleasure, but who played a cautious hand, afraid he would once more fall short and lose the woman he loved.
Hermione knew what he wasn’t saying. He loved her as much as Draco did, and she felt the same for him. But she would wait until he indicated that he'd come to terms with the idea, because Lucius had a lot more baggage when it came to love, and she didn’t want him to feel as if he had to abandon the memory of his wife in exchange for her heart. He would admit his feelings in his own time. There was no rush.
Interlacing her fingers with his, Hermione squeezed his hand in return. “Kiss me.”
His nose trailed along the side of her face, and he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. “The angle’s bad—the only downside to this configuration.”
“Please. I need to come.”
His hips began a slow assault on her arse, and she groaned as he pulled out even further before sliding back in. Clutching his hand, she held on for dear life. Every tiny movement buffed her clitoris against the fur and shifted the auxiliary cock in her pussy. Gods, how she wished that thing would move!
“Come for me, princess. I want to feel you.” His lips brushed her cheek in a whispered kiss.
“More!”
Unsure if she meant kisses or fucking, he gave her both, his mouth continuously peppering her cheek with languorous love, and his steely cock working even deeper into her tract.
Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. His efforts to please her never waned, and those kisses, even if they weren’t the oral relief she needed, were so touching she felt as if their souls were weaving together in a lover's knot. For someone as guarded as Lucius, actions spoke louder than words, and she was staggered by the intimacy engendered by his simplest caress. This wasn’t his usual grandiose display of carnal delights; this was a raw Lucius, his hopes and fears frightfully close to the surface, desperate for the solace only she could provide.
His hips plunged to the hilt and then snapped hard, reaching for more, hitting some secret spot that had her seeing stars.
“Huh!” Fuck! What the hell was that? It felt as if he’d drilled all the way through to her spinal cord. Every snappy thrust that followed sent a rippling shiver of energy skittering up her vertebra. She was reeling, falling into his web of sensorial bliss.
“Mmmm,” he purred between kisses, “You are so fucking beautiful like this—I don’t think I can hold off much longer.”
“Come!” she blurted out. “Please!”
“Come where, princess? In your delicious little arse?”
“Yes!” And as soon as she said it, the finish line was rushing toward her like a runaway locomotive.
Lucius quickly found her lips with his, straining sideways to kiss her into oblivion.
She didn’t know if it was the kiss or the protective way his body locked around hers, as if he could calm her convulsive jittering, but her orgasm took hold with a strength that literally blinded her. White light blotted out her vision for the next minute, and she couldn’t tell if she was about to pass out again, or if so much of her blood flow had been diverted to her pussy that her eyes could no longer function. 
But her lungs were certainly still working. Even with Lucius’s tongue in her mouth, she was screaming, the release too powerful to stifle.
He pulled back after a few seconds, his own grunts building to a crescendo as his cock swelled inside her. She could feel each pulse like a heartbeat in her sphincter, and the resulting warmth that filled her passage only served to prolong her climax.
As the spasms faded, Hermione’s scream went hoarse and died on her lips. They were both out of breath and covered in sweat, the leather slick beneath her.
“Are you all right?” Lucius croaked.
She grunted an affirmative.
His lips found her face again, and he kissed a trail back to her ear, where he nudged her hair out of the way with his nose. “I don’t think I can walk yet, but I can get up if you’d like to breathe.”
Clutching his hand to keep him in place, she groaned disagreeably. Hermione couldn’t bear the thought of him retreating back into himself, physically or emotionally. She wanted to keep him just as he was for as long as possible.
A sleepy purr rumbled from his chest, and Hermione smiled. That was what she wanted to hear—her most assiduous lover luxuriating in their shared contentment, celebrating a job well done.
“Thank you, Lucius.”
“For what, love?”
“For this. For everything you do. For being so good to me.”
He dropped his head against hers and pressed his mouth to the back of her neck. It took him a minute to respond, and Hermione wished she could see his face so she could gauge his state of mind—but perhaps he would be more up front if he wasn’t in the spotlight.
“I should be thanking you,” he said, his voice tight. “You’re the one who’s so good to me . . . good for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hermione.”
Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she pulled his hand under her chest, pinning it against her heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either. No one else makes me feel the way you do, Lucius. You know that, right?”
“I’m glad. I want to be what you need.”
“You always are,” she whispered.
He was much quieter after that, and she wanted so much to turn around and check his aura.
“Did you enjoy the dual penetration this evening?” he asked in a falsely lighthearted tone. It was obvious he’d become too affected by their conversation and was trying to change the subject.
“You know I love everything you do to me.”
“How would you like to try the same thing but with Severus instead of silicone?”
Hermione blinked open her eyes and stared across the room as she pictured them both smashed up against her, filling her with everything they had. She didn’t know if her body could handle that, but she damn well wanted to try. “Do you really think you’ll both fit?”
His chuckling ruffled her hair. “We’ll go slowly. Take our time. Let your body stretch. Even if it doesn’t work, we’ll have a good time finding out what you like.”
“Have you suggested it to Severus yet?” she asked with a smile. Now that he’d planted the idea in her head, she was keen to give it a go. “Does he want to be in my pussy or my bum?”
“I go where I’m needed,” Snape said from the doorway.
Startled, Lucius lifted his head to look over his shoulder. “Bloody hell, Severus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“My apologies,” Snape replied easily.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to catch Miss Granger’s impressive money note.”
“Damn spies,” Lucius muttered under his breath. “Have you come to join us, or were you just waiting to give me a heart attack?”
“I came to tell you dinner was ready. I thought you both might be hungry.” He sounded amused. “I made cake for dessert.”
Hermione’s stomach gurgled loud enough for all to hear. “Cake? What kind of cake?”
“Chocolate cake,” Severus answered.
“Oh gods,” she groaned. “Let me up, Lucius. I need cake.”
“Do you now?” he laughed. “I suppose I could be convinced to release you . . . in exchange for a kiss.”
Grinning, Hermione turned her head so he could reach.
“No, I mean a proper kiss. I have no desire to wake up tomorrow with a sore neck. Just give me second to return our accommodations to their original settings.”
Hermione squeaked as the leather wedge began to deflate. Lucius stayed propped on his knees, and as she sank down, his softened prick slipped from her hole with a farewell squelch. The dildo disappeared as well, and Hermione was left devastatingly empty, sprawled atop a damp swatch of soft fur.
“Turn over for me, love. Don’t make me beg.”
Lucius beg? It didn’t sound possible—but there was no denying the gruff pleading in his voice. Twisting around onto her back, she looked up at him, her disheveled Prince Charming. His eyelids were lazy and low, his face lax with post-coital peace. And his aura had shifted from a pulsating blood red to a vibrant ruby with swathes of sapphire swirling around his chest.
Opening her arms, she drew him in, hugging him to her and hooking her legs around his hips to keep his wilting wand from catching cold. He smiled and kissed her, a small note of happiness passing from his mouth to hers. Hermione welcomed his tongue with a moan of her own, and she clung to him as he caged her in with his body.
Who would have ever thought the day would come when Hermione Granger wanted nothing more than to be trapped beneath Lucius Malfoy? On the surface it sounded preposterous. But in her heart, he felt like home.
Lucius drew back with a sleepy smile and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead with the edge of his thumb. “I have to go on a business trip tomorrow. I won’t be home until late.”
“That’s okay. I need a few days to recover before we try it with Severus.”
He smirked. “I meant I’ll miss you.”
“Oh,” she said with a guilty giggle. “I’ll miss you too. Very much. You’ll be home before I go to sleep, won’t you?”
“I hope so, but I’m not sure. It could run late.”
“If I’m asleep, wake me up so I can kiss you.”
He smiled. “I shall.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up before dinner, Miss Granger,” Severus murmured. “I know how much you love both cake and cream, but we don’t want you sticking to the furniture.”
Hermione gave Lucius a sly look before countering Snape’s proposal with one of her own. “Will you give me a bath?”
“How about if Lucius and I both give you a shower. He needs to clean up too.”
Hermione hummed in approval and ground her pussy into Malfoy’s semi-solid erection; he grunted and gave her a disbelieving look before dissolving into reluctant chuckles. Severus had no idea he’d just inspired a new fantasy obsession with that one suggestion. The Slytherin shower room sounded like the perfect place to recruit ample cocks for her Willy World Cup ambitions. She already had three first-string contenders.
“Last one in’s a rotten augury egg!” she declared, and with a sportsman-like slap to Lucius’s muscular arse, the game was afoot.
Andante con moto—Slowly but with movement
“Head Over Feet” by Alanis Morissette. Written by Alanis Morisette and Glen Ballard. Released in 1995 on the album Jagged Little Pill. (Ah, the soundtrack of my high school years.) https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=iBgP44KEf3Q
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