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Prisoners of Love - A Mystery - COMPLETE	By : LaBibliographe Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 75190 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
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- 7
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Updated 7-26-07

Thank you all for the reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. I've had a great time writing this one. As the seventh Harry Potter book has now come out (and I've read it) I may have to slightly adjust a few details, but I think I'll mostly allow the parts of my story that part ways with canon to stand. In a few details, I didn't like the canon version so this fanfiction will retain the alternate universe idea (in common with most of its fellows.) There might be overt - or covert - spoilers from here on out, so please proceed with caution if you haven't read the final, seventh book.

As promised, here is the next chapter. I live on the Pacific coast of the U.S., so it's still 7-26-07 to me. 8-)

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Chapter Six

Metamorphosis for Two
“Where do you want me to dig, Lucius?” Hermione brought her blanket down with her to sit on to keep her bum from freezing on the cold stone floor. When she was shown where to scrape, she said, “What will this accomplish? Are you digging through to another cell? Or trying to escape?” Hermione wasn’t sure if she would want to escape. It would leave her with Sirius’ fate, always running and hiding. And it broke the Ministry’s rules, which she admitted hadn’t been used in her favor, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to be an outlaw.

Lucius grunted, “No, of course not. Did you think I was going to dig my way to freedom in high romantic fashion?” Lucius shook his head at the naiveté of the young, while wishing a bit that he still had those rose-colored glasses that she wore so innocently. “There is a source of water under here in a pipe. I want more water for washing. And under that other stone over there is a waste pipe where I can build in a way to get rid of our excrement faster. I’ll be digging there next.”

“Why can’t you transfigure the stone and just make a hole? I could try to transfigure the cuffs off you while you did it. It shouldn’t take too much skill for a simple iron circle. Then we could put them back on you when the guards came around.” Hermione was confused at the senseless digging when she’d seen Lucius transfigure the spoon.

Lucius stopped digging for a second, “Because if I transfigure anything too large, these cuffs give off a signal telling le Fay I’m ‘misbehaving’ again. What? Did you think the stupid things actually affected my abilities by disrupting my body? I would never let anyone do that to me. I accepted the cuffs because if I hadn’t they were going to put me in a cell with a stasis field around it keeping me immobile. Which would you have chosen?”

“Ugh! I see your point,” Hermione shuddered at such a horrible existence. “Why don’t they put Bellatrix in a stasis cell?”

Lucius gritted his teeth, completely uninterested in his psychotic sister-in-law’s fate, “Because it’s considered excessive cruelty to treat lunatics that way. Regular criminals they see no problem with. It might have been kinder to let her die at Hogwarts. She’s basically a mindless animal now. Unfortunately, she’s still incredibly vicious.” Lucius continued digging, wishing his sidekick weren’t so inquisitive. Did she never run out of questions?

“So you can do small things and they don’t signal the Warden? Like that spoon? Have you tested the range of what you can do?”

Lucius sighed, “Pretty much,” he answered, thinking maybe if he answered enough questions they would slow down and even stop – someday. Her inquiring mind was one of those tortures that were making him hard. “I can see into le Fay’s office when I want and he wears a signal bracelet that will let him know if I do any transfiguring and to make sure I’m controlled. Occasionally he takes it off in my sight and puts it on the desk. It chafes him, too.” Lucius grinned. “Then I can transfigure bigger things. But what am I going to do if I make a hole, then have to wait until the next time he takes his bracelet off to cover the hole up again? I need to make a nonmagical space with the removal of the stone so I can replace it whenever I want.”

Hermione pondered the problem for a moment, “If I watch the Warden, can you transfigure the stone into a slightly smaller size with sides that almost fit into the hole? Maybe a slight trapezoid shape that you could put in upside down and move at will, turning it over to make the bigger side up if anyone inspects the cell?” Hermione enquired innocently. “Then no one would be able to see anything, but you would have access to the water supply whenever you want.” She added, her brow wrinkled in thought, “Or - once the stone is loose, you can raise it or lower it magically. That shouldn’t trigger the transfiguration cuffs.”

Lucius gazed at the tiny female with the first true approval he’d felt for her since she came. In that short time he’d already felt lust, irritation, more lust, compassion, alarm, lust, and protectiveness, sometimes in unpleasant combinations, but the approval was a surprise. “I think I could if I had enough time,” he said slowly, “but estimating and then achieving the correct size will take some effort so you watching the Warden for me would be crucial. I’ll continue digging and you watch the orb. Concentrate on le Fay’s office and it will appear.

Hermione was more and more impressed with the innate abilities and intelligence of the convicted Death Eater. She supposed one could admire excellence even in an enemy, but she was glad he was in prison and not free to wreak havoc on the poor Muggles any more, not that he’d been actively doing that since the end of Voldemort - or so he said. He had professed to be a law-abiding citizen after his first sojourn in Azkaban. Yet here he was, back in prison again. Was he pursuing his old ways, or was there some other reason he was incarcerated once more? She knew he’d been sent back to gaol for the same offense and that did sound a little strange to her.

However, she was also confused now on just who the enemy was ever since she’d been wrongfully convicted herself. If the Ministry was now her enemy, were the enemies of the Ministry her friends? That didn’t seem right if it meant she was now on the same side as Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione moved back to Lucius’ cot and settled herself under her blanket, peering at the hidden orb. She concentrated on the dark stone until the Warden’s office came into focus. “Okay, I have it. I suppose this could take days, before the Warden does his striptease?”

Lucius looked up briefly from his digging, “Possibly, but lately he’s been getting more and more irritated, I think. He takes it off nearly every day for a time, usually in the middle of the day somewhere, when he has lunch. Look for someone to bring in his tray. That might be our break. You’ll have to watch not only le Fay, but listen for the guards bringing our trays also.”

“Yes, master,” she joked.

“I wish,” murmured Lucius loudly enough for Hermione to hear.

Hermione blushed rosily, but pertly rejoined, “Hah! That’s a totally wasted wish, but if you were my master, what would you do with me?” Hermione continued to watch the orb and didn’t see two suddenly arrested ice-gray eyes narrow on his roomie.

“Hermione you have got to be kidding me. Use your imagination, my dear. What does your experience tell you would happen if I or any man was your true master?” Lucius closed his eyes a moment trying to dislodge thoughts that would only make his swollen crotch worse and then continued his interrupted digging.

Then Hermione knocked him sideways. “Well I can’t do that, now can I? I don’t have any experience,” she disclosed simply, not understanding that her words were like setting a torch to tinder with a man who had a strong sexual appetite and who had yesterday ended a four-month-long, boring but imperative personal relationship with his hand, because he was currently unable to even enjoy a good wank with her in the cell.

And he had thought his hand jobs were bad. Oh, Sweet Goddess, could you be any more cruel to me? How did I deserve to get a damned virgin in my cell? Lucius moaned quietly to himself. He couldn’t concentrate any more, thinking about whether or not her virginity was a blessing or a terrible curse on him. His desperate attempt to stay immune to her was unraveling, his lonely cock was throbbing and he was exultant and miserable. She was like a pot of impish, destructive Cornish pixies at the end of a beautiful rainbow. Desirable – undesirable – desirable - undesirable. His head was spinning. What the hell did he do with her, so innocent, so sexy?

Hermione meandered on, not knowing she had just delivered a simultaneous crushing blow and irresistible challenge to a devious Slytherin predator. “I almost had sex once, but the person – who shall remain nameless,” she twinkled coyly, “had such bad breath I couldn’t get past his kisses.” Hermione looked so young and innocently unsullied to Lucius at that point that his desire shriveled in his pants.

Well, he reckoned philosophically, one good thing had finally come his way, amidst the malicious blight his incarceration had become - his cock wasn’t giving him fits any more. Gods, she was a grown woman, so why was he thinking of backing off from nearly a sure thing? A few minutes reflection gave him some peace over her unwelcome confidence. If she wanted to initiate sex, he was under no compulsion to deny her. He merely had to design a way for her to want him in her bed, and that was what he had planned to do anyway. So, back to Square One.

Hermione gasped, “Lucius, the Warden is taking off his bracelet!” She jumped up on his cot, nearly dancing with glee and in spite of himself, Lucius was charmed by her natural exuberance.

“Sit down, Hermione, I don’t want your feet on my bed.” Lucius gave her a mean glare to hide the way she entertained him with her excitement.”

She wasn’t fazed and just stuck her tongue out at him, continuing to smile as he secretly fed off her joy. Subconsciously she knew he wasn’t really angry with her but she didn’t stop to analyze why she knew.

Oh, Gods, Lucius cried inside, he wanted that tongue. How long had she been in his cell? Had it been since that last blue moon or only a month of Sundays? She was so naïve and he was so terribly, distressingly horny. That damned flannel tent was becoming absolutely seductive the way it swayed and outlined one little body part then another. He sucked in a tortured breath trying to hold in his moan when she made one last jump on his poor, abused cot just to show him he couldn’t boss her around. The flannel caught on her hand as it flew up, accidentally flashing her entire front to Lucius.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” Hermione hurriedly brushed her nightgown back down to her legs, covering her bouncy, pert breasts and little brown muff and making Lucius absolutely rabid.

He stood up and just stared at her for several minutes, making Hermione nervous and a little scared at his unmoving stance.

“Lucius, I said I’m sorry. You’re scaring me. Lucius?” She stepped down off his cot and tried to move away but there was really nowhere to go.

“Hermione,” his pale gray eyes tracked the frantic rise and fall of her breasts, “I have tried to be a gentleman, you don’t know how hard I have tried. I think you owe me something for your taunting.” His eyes weren’t icy now. They were positively scorching in their intensity.

“I didn’t try to taunt you, Lucius. It was just an accident. Truly.” She held her pose staunchly, but she was suddenly afraid of this man who she had too blithely painted as basically gentlemanly in their brief association.

“Come HERE,” he said, his voice low and intimidating; his pupils dilated making his eyes nearly black with his desire. He held out his hand and closed his long, elegant, dusty fingers into a fist in potent demand. He turned his fist slowly until it faced downward, then he extended his index finger and pointed downward in front of him. His mouth had a hard beauty, firm masculine lines currently pursed in anger, bracketed by deeply carved furrows in his cheeks on either side of his face.

Now he didn’t look gentlemanly at all to Hermione and she realized in dismay she had been living with a dangerous Slytherin, closing her eyes and conveniently forgetting all her previous experiences and knowledge about this cold, handsome, vicious male. She swallowed convulsively and asked in a whisper, “Why?”

“I want payback for your insensitivity. And I want it now. If I have to fetch you, I can’t be responsible. Now, COME HERE!” Lucius stood still, waiting, his hypnotic, burning stare causing Hermione to begin trembling in her flannel.

“What are you going to do?” Hermione sidled one baby step closer.

Lucius didn’t wait for her to come any closer. He reached out the two paces between them and pulled her into his embrace. Thick, dark eyelashes lowered over mesmeric, crystal-pale eyes as his mouth came down on hers, opening her lips with his tongue and devouring the recesses of her sweet, moist little mouth. He pulled her up nearly off the ground, wrapping his arms around her, one hand tightly twined in her tangled locks and one hand raising her nightgown at the back so he could massage the tiny, firm globes of her butt before plunging his long, searching fingers between them to the tender, private place no one but she had ever touched before, heating her up to boiling incandescence against his now-raging erection.

Hermione had been kissed before, but never like this. She was breathless and so hot she feared she would burst into flames. There wasn’t enough air in the room - what air there was seemed shot through with electricity, singeing her fingers wherever she touched. And she did touch. Feminine fingers slid up Lucius’ chest, kneading as they climbed, feeling firm muscles up, up, until she sinuously inched her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down, greedy for his mouth against hers.

Hermione was swept away by the unaccustomed arousal coiling through her – she was nearly drunk with the surging of her blood, bucking mindlessly against his invading fingers and fueled by an abruptly awakened libido, the command of which sailed right out of her hands and into Lucius’ as he delved into her nether mysteries.

For those few minutes they were entwined, he was her master, he owned her, stealing her soul insidiously from her lips and possessing every particle of her being. His tongue was never still, sipping at the nectar of her mouth, smoothing the inside of her lower lip, then caressing her own tongue in a dance of erotic splendor, beckoning her into more and deeper obsession with this dominant, compelling, virile dark wizard she should feel nothing but contempt for.

Far from contempt, she wanted nothing more than to climb inside him, merge her body with his and never let go. She desperately rubbed her front against the ridge behind his pants, never consciously understanding her frantic agitation. She had always felt she was a very independent female but she felt bewitched, mindless, taken over by this master of sorcery who held her effortlessly in his glittering force field.

She would have kissed Lucius forever, had he not called a halt, bitterly realizing he was on the verge of ruining this naïve, stupidly trusting, dazzling young woman. He groaned, but pulled her arms from around his neck and gently put her away from him, his breathing so erratic he thought he might pass out. He was unbearably enticed by her body, provoked by her strength of will, and stimulated almost to madness by her mind but he wasn’t ready to spend the next four and a half years in a miniscule prison cell with the recriminations and hatred of a deflowered virgin turned virago.

Hermione whimpered a small, plaintive objection, trying to resume his exploration of her mouth by main force, but Lucius easily subdued her, gently easing her arms from their renewed, desperate stranglehold around his neck. She was set on her feet and Lucius moved back from her, watching her glazed eyes slowly come back to an awareness of her surroundings and what they had done, what she had done.

“Why?” she mourned, inconsolable, her mind slowly grasping his rejection while her body still screamed for his. “Why did you do that to me? It was an accident. Was I so bad that you had to pitch me into this purgatory?” Her soft, lower lip trembled with her response to his potent, lusty masculinity; even now she still trembled from the reverberations of her intense reaction to him. “Do you also like to pull the wings off fairies?”

Lucius, behaving almost like a drunk who was trying to convince everyone he was sober, retreated stiff-legged to his cot and eased down, pushing his back up against the wall. His first move was to belatedly hide and protect his blatant reactions – both physical and mental - from a female who could scramble his brains with nothing more than a torrid kiss.

He shuddered at the force of her effect on him, knowing his earlier fear had been well-founded. He could feel the tendrils of her mind slipping into place within his own. Lucius pushed his fingers erratically through his tresses, rubbing his scalp in a futile attempt to keep her mind’s connection at bay. Impossible to stop, the connection was staggeringly addictive, even as the reality of it repelled him.

He avoided looking at her, instead addressing the high window as he found his voice, but spoke in low, unusually husky tones, “I…apologize. That was meant only to be a brief perk for me and punishment for you to scare you a little, so you would be more careful. It…got a bit more, uh, intense than I expected.” Gods, it hadn’t even been two days and his reaction to her was volcanic, the blistering lava still oozing in his veins as he tried to keep his libido under control. If he didn’t find a way to either bed this virgin or get her out of his cell, his sanity would be in jeopardy. Was already in jeopardy. No! He didn’t want this!

Hermione wanted to cry, to scream, to sob out her misery and her body’s chaos. That kiss had unlocked and released something so overwhelming that she was frightened out of her mind. It felt as though her brain had overloaded somehow. Hermione had never heard of two minds bonding, but deep within her subconscious she knew precisely what it was and it would never, ever consent to being casually returned to obscurity - in a few fervent minutes her life had changed forever.

“I HATE you,” she railed, and then incurably honest, she added, “and I want you. I can’t get comfortable in my skin. I feel like a regiment of ants is creeping all over me. My mind hurts, Lucius.” She backed over to her cot and sat down limply, curling her knees up into a ball against her chest as she tried to even out her erratic breathing. “I want to crawl up inside you and eat you from the inside out. I hate it. Did you put a spell on me? Make it stop! Make it stop, Lucius.” She looked haunted as she begged him for relief.

Lucius was immersed in his own problems. He truly hadn’t expected either of the reactions roiling through them. Usually any strong chemistry he’d ever experienced was obvious to him well before any physical connection was achieved. This was a whole other level. He’d been blindsided as much as she, but in his case, he knew exactly where those feelings were supposed to lead and was consequently suffering even more than Hermione.

He had been increasingly attracted, but he’d written it off to four months of his own company and a young, pretty female and nothing more. The words ‘nothing more’ echoed in his mind, taunting him viciously with how monstrously he’d been lying to himself. Oh, Gods!! Lucius dropped his own head on his pulled-up knees. He took several inadequate breaths and tried again to beat down his reaction. His control held, just barely, but he needed to keep any betrayal of his feelings from showing.

He’d heard of the phenomenon, but hadn’t thought much about the idea of a close mental bonding between two lovers. It had never happened between him and Narcissa. He wasn’t even this one’s lover for Merlin’s sake - this couldn’t be happening. No! he thought, I won’t LET it happen, and he raised his head and spoke as evenly as he could against the painful stretching of his heartstrings, proceeding to manfully lie in an effort to obliterate the connection.

“Those…those…feelings are called ‘lust’ my dear, and now you’ve some idea of what I’ve been dealing with since you were shoved through my cell door. Except I’d probably prefer to eat you from the outside in.” Lucius brought his gaze up and regarded his cellmate inscrutably, hoping he looked and sounded completely blasé. She was a grown woman who apparently had been all but kept in a vacuum. What the hell had she done for the past years? Was it her absolute innocence that had triggered this mess?

Hermione curled up even further as she sat back on her cot, folding one forearm over the top of her knees and resting her forehead on it. She hid her face and rubbed her chest over her spellbound heart, whispering inaudibly to herself, “No, Lucius, that’s not what it’s called. That’s not it at all.” Hermione had labeled the intense, tearing emotion ravaging her mind and body love, but she only had one part of it correctly.

One lone tear escaped from her, trailing down her cheek as she confronted her dismal future with an evil, politically patronizing ass who had in three minutes demolished her independence, replacing it with – oh Gods, she didn’t want to think about it. Why him? She didn’t even like him. Aside from his glorious physique and arresting eyes and face. There must be some kind of spell to undo it.

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Things are heating up in this cozy little love nest for two. What could be more romantic than matching waste buckets? (Just kidding!)

A review for this chapter will be greatly appreciated. Take a moment and let me know what tickled your imagination. Many thanks!
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Prisoners of Love - A Mystery - COMPLETE