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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
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A/N: justheretosayhi: Hello to you too! And thank you so much for all the story love. Your questions will be addressed very soon, so I won’t give anything away :) Hope you enjoy what’s coming up, and I hope to hear from you again <3
66—Pastoral
“Sowing the seeds of love, the seeds of love. Sowing the seeds.”—Tears for Fears
(Lucius)
Lucius and Severus headed toward the pool to help Hermione out, but as they crossed to the graduated steps that descended into the dark water, Draco heaved himself over the lip of the pool and dramatically sprawled out on the flagstones like a dead fish. 
Lovely, Lucius sighed, throwing Severus an eye roll. Looks like elemental shagging is precisely as dignified as I imagined.
Stepping over his son, Lucius continued to the stairs and extended his hand to Hermione, who graciously accepted his assistance with a smile. Although water wasn’t his purview, Lucius had to admit that, for a girl made of fire, she looked spectacular when wet.
Hermione flicked the droplets from her arms and began to wring out her hair, but Snape grunted dismissively and, waving his hand, dried her with a quick evaporation charm. Her hair immediately erupted into a ball of frazzled half-dry curls, which elicited a huff of irritation from their pretty tumbleweed.
“My apologies,” Severus murmured in a laughing tone that sounded anything but remorseful. When she reached up to smash her hair into some semblance of normalcy, Snape caught her by the wrists and pulled her hands off her head. “Stop fussing with it. You look beautiful.”
Her responding smile shone with equal parts appreciation and reproach.
“How was the sex?” Severus asked, obviously trying to take her mind off her appearance. “Did you feel anything?”
Hermione threw back her head in a fit of spluttery laughter. “Don’t listen to him, Draco; I felt a whole lot of something.”
“You know what I meant. Don’t get cheeky with me, little girl.”
She grinned and stuck the tip of her tongue between her teeth in impudent defiance. “It was bloody amazing. Like we’d been fucking for hours and then—bang!”
“And Draco?” Severus asked, his eyes dropping to the boy’s prone body.
“He felt it too. But I think it knocked him out more than it did me. You might want to check on him,” she said with a perverse eyebrow waggle.
Severus smirked but deferentially sought out Lucius’s reaction before committing to anything.
A rush of jealousy flickered in Malfoy’s belly like a lit coal. For some reason, sharing Severus felt . . . risky; but only when the other person was Draco. Lucius tried to reason with himself—sharing with Draco should be no different than sharing with Hermione—but his body refused to accept logic. 
The revelations on their connection as a Quartet, however, painted the scene in a slightly different light. As four equal parts of a whole, they were all necessary. Indispensable. It gave him at least a modicum of reassurance that he wouldn’t be left out in the cold, cast aside in favor of Snape’s shiny new boy toy.
And that made sharing a skosh easier.
Lucius nodded at Severus, and Snape gave him the most secretive of smiles.
“I’ll see to Draco,” Severus murmured in Hermione’s ear. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. You go play in the garden with Lucius. Come and get me when you’re finished.”
Hermione bobbed her head, enthusiastically agreeing, and then slipped her fingers through Lucius’s. When he looked down at her, she smiled and tugged him toward the nearest plot of flowers. “Come on. My pussy’s getting anxious. I need you to ground it with some pounding.”
Malfoy stumbled into a snicker, so caught off guard by her ribald vehemence it took him a second to find his voice. “Ah, my delicate little flower—so innocent and yet so . . .”
“Scurrilous?” she suggested.
Laughing roundly, he bowed to her logophilic word choice. “I was thinking filthy, but scurrilous is absolute perfection, love. You’ve been reading that Victorian erotica in the library again, haven’t you? I hope it’s inspired your imagination.”
“It has. But, sadly, none of it involved shagging in the garden.”
“We’ll have to improvise. How would you like to approach this? You on top?”
Hermione looked over her shoulder, her grin widening. “Is that how you want to do it? I thought for sure you’d demand a barrier between yourself and the landscaping.“
“Hmm,” he hummed darkly. “I have a feeling I’m going to get dirty no matter how we go about this.”
“That’s the fun bit,” she insisted. “The dirtier the better.”
Lucius shook his head. While al fresco fucking appealed to his carnal nature, he tended to avoid unnecessary soiling.
They arrived at the nearest flowerbed, where Severus had arranged a three-tiered ring of stark white candles, and Hermione tiptoed over the flickering boundary with the lightness of a sprite. Her spell-dried hair floated around her in a demented, fluffy haze, which, combined with the flames and foliage, made her look like a feral pixie.
His feral pixie.
Turning, she beckoned to him with a curled finger, her puckish expression setting his balls alight.
What a delicious dare.
Lucius crossed into her fiery fairy ring, and as he did, a peculiar blossom of heat took root in his belly. He searched her face for any indication that she felt something similar, but Hermione appeared completely at ease, her eyelids relaxed and low. Very low. And her pupils were like two tar pits. He couldn’t tell if she was still high from fucking Draco or just settling into her usual sex trance. 
“If you're honestly uptight about the dirt, I’ll start you out easy,” she offered.
“Easy?”
Kneeling down before him, she made her intentions clear. 
Lucius breathed out a chuckle and brushed his fingers over her bushy mane. The art of negotiation was alive and well in his clever lioness.
And he absolutely loved it when she got that determined glint in her eye; she was like a kitten who’d spotted a mouse running across the top shelf of the pantry—no hesitation, keen for a challenge, excited to pursue her desires. And in that moment, he was her greatest desire.
Nothing could possibly please him more.
Except pleasing her.
Hermione held his gaze as she leaned in, her warm lips grazing the meat of his swollen shaft. His glans received the softest of kisses, and Lucius held his breath as she dabbed the crystalline cream from his tip with a playful lick.
When she smiled up at him, his brain froze, dazzled by the beauty of the scene. Until his dying day, he would remember her precisely as she looked in that instant: kneeling in the red and purple blooms, the flowers framing her like an impressionist painting, flames licking the periphery with etheric light.
What a fool he’d been to resist such pulchritude. They weren’t getting dirty; the garden was enhancing the symmetry and grandeur of their union. What better backdrop for her primal allure than the artistry of nature?
Lucius wiggled his toes into the dirt to strengthened his stance, the soil far more sensual than he’d been led to believe. When he straightened his knees, a tingling current of energy traveled up the center of each leg—two live wires—and as they joined in his groin, a radiant hum burst though his balls, transforming his cock to solid stone. 
Not just marble, but adamantine granite. 
Hermione had to apply considerable force to drag him down to her tongue.
Each stroke drew the electricity from his bollocks up into his pelvis, and when she took him in her mouth, the energy throbbed in time with her suckling.
Her other hand slid up between his thighs, and her nails scraped along the back of his sac like a dull blade. Lucius grunted—just once—and held her close, trembling as the ball of light in his pelvis shot toward his stomach and continued to rise.
When it reached his heart, he shuddered violently. Something inside his chest began to open, and Lucius stared down at himself in apprehensive wonder. What the hell was happening?
“Fuck me,” Hermione whispered against his cock. “Please, Lucius. I need you now.”
His body moved before he knew what he was doing, and as he knelt to the ground, the energy ascended, a wreath of ticklish fingers encircling his throat. Brushing back the hair from her forehead, Malfoy leaned in to ground himself with a kiss; except when he touched his lips to hers, the energy rolled through his jaw and met with her in an arc of electric love that completely fried his brain. A bright bombshell blasted through his head and rippled all the way down to his toes in a shockwave of golden light. His entire body felt open and free—like pure unrefined magic. 
Sex magic.
Quartet magic.
Love.
Merlin help him, he actually wanted to roll around on the ground with her. He wanted to feel the pulse of the earth vibrating through his entire body. He wanted to spread Granger out on the earth and have a threesome with Mother Nature.
Easing Hermione to the side, Lucius watched—or, more accurately, felt—as they tumbled together in a tangled embrace. The flowers tickled them both, the cool petals contrasting with the heat of their skin, and like a blossom opening to the sun, she spread her legs and drew him in. Lucius found himself above her, rooted in place by the power of her thighs, his erection melding into the valley of her womanhood.
Before he could will it, his hips moved, and the tip of his cock dipped into her molten nectar. But the heat didn’t slow him down. His body craved her burn. 
Hermione’s sheath fluttered around him, and in response, his loins began to tremble, the need for release increasing exponentially. And Lucius wasn’t the only one looking panicked by that realization.
“You all right, princess?”
“Do you feel that?” she whispered.
Oh thank Merlin, it wasn’t just him! “Yes, I do.”
“What does it feel like to you?”
“Like something’s flowing through me—tingling energy.”
“Flowing or growing?”
He had to think about that. 
She was right. It felt like fast-moving ground cover spreading across his body, filling him and building on itself. “Growing. It’s about to overrun me.”
“Me too.”
“Is this how you felt when you were in the water with Draco?”
“Sort of. It didn’t feel like electric ivy taking over my body; it was more like . . . a wave of love.”
“So my energy is merely sensorial for you? It doesn’t feel like love?”
Smiling, she touched his face. “Of course it feels like love. It’s just very visceral compared to Draco’s. Come here,” she whispered. “Lean into me. I like your weight. It makes me feel safe.
Her arms snaked around to his back, encouraging him to give her everything, and with a contented sigh, he relaxed into her blistering embrace. Drawn into the aurora of her soul, his heart had no choice but to melt, and his chest loosened as a layer of fear disintegrated into relief.
Relief so sweet it made his eyes water.
Malfoy turned his face to hide his reaction. 
What would she think of him if he took to weeping whilst making love? How would he ever live down such humiliation? Bloody hell, here she was begging him to smother her with the strength of his sexuality, and his body was threatening to destroy him with weakness.
Sinking his teeth into the sides of his tongue, Lucius battled to maintain control. Tears were out of the question. He wasn’t Draco for god’s sake! 
He just needed a moment to get ahold of himself. Pressing his face to her throat, he took shelter in the only hiding place available. It wasn’t ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
It took several tries, but after nine slow breaths, the tension behind his eyes faded, and the stitch in his chest unraveled a few more inches of breathing room.
Testing his voice with a cautious moan, he detected no quiver or catch. It seemed wise to steer the conversation into safer territory while he had the chance. “Are you ready to come, princess? I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.” He didn’t elaborate on what, precisely, he meant by that.
“I’ve been ready since you took my hand by the pool,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I just didn’t want all this to end.”
Lucius winced as his heart slammed against his chest like a rabid chimpanzee. Inhaling as deeply as he could, he struggled to calm the beast raging within his breast. “While spending an eternity between your thighs sounds divine, I think my bollocks have some much shorter term plans.”
Hermione laughed and kissed his neck. “Same here. Muffy says it’s time to come.”
“Muffy?” When he caught on, he couldn’t help laughing. “How does she want to come, love? Tell me what your brilliant little pussy needs most.”
“Make me feel everything,” she rasped, her fingers tugging at the back of his scalp. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
Lucius almost came from the request alone. His body wanted nothing more than to fulfill her every desire. But how to best go about delivering on such a delectable order?
Before he could decide on a course of action, his hips stole the reins, dragging him steadily backward until only his head remained in the tight grip of her stuttering sex. 
Lucius needed no playbook to know what came next.
Bracing her protectively in his arms, he drove forward with a single thrust, and Hermione’s jaw dropped, every pearly tooth gleaming in the moonlight. It seemed she was sufficiently “feeling it.”
Lucius felt it too, the pressure in his chest finding a much needed outlet. As the stricture surrounding his heart lessened, his tear ducts relaxed, and he breathed a shaky sigh of relief. Muffy knew just what he needed.
Rearing back, he thrust again. And again. Hard. Slamming. Deep.
She gasped and clutched his arm, her eyes wide and fixed, unseeing; but Lucius could see nothing else, his focus on her absolute. Unwavering. While she seemed to be transcending the earthly plane, Lucius found himself fully immersed in each sweaty second. His body hummed, every cell sparking with renewed power. He felt high. Alive. Free.
“Unnnnnh!”
Lucius licked the shout from her lower lip. “That’s it, love. Let me hear you.”
“Fuck!” Her neck arched, and she drilled her skull into the soil so that every time he tapped her cervix, she plowed up a few centimeters of earth. “AH! Yes!”
Staking his shoulder blades with the tips of her nails, she latched on and expertly countered each stroke with a curl of her hips.
“Scratch me,” Lucius growled. “All the way down my back. I want to remember this.”
Raking her claws down his spine, Hermione razed his flesh with tracks of fresh fire. He hissed into the pain and fucked her harder, riding the rockslide of endorphins and love that surged through his bloodstream. When her arms reached their limit, she sank her nails into his glutes and pierced him with ten neat daggers. His balls rose, threatening to spill, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to center himself.
“I love you, Hermione.”
She opened her eyes, and a flash of gold rippled through her irises. “I love you too, Lucius. Please fuck me faster.”
His lower half took a life of its own, their skin smacking together, the strains of animalistic rutting echoing over the grounds.
Hermione wailed, and the sound bounced across the lawn to dance with the slapping symphony of their sex. What music! His whole being sang harmony to the serenade, and caught up in the duet, his glowing pelvis battered her with a driving beat—until the tremors wracking her body built to a glass-shattering scream.
“LUCIUS!”
Everything he’d been holding inside, all the feeling, all the pleasure, all the need erupted from his cock in an explosion that left him temporarily blind. But with the destruction of that sense came a heightening of the others: the scent of her gushing sex filled his nose so completely he couldn’t tell whether he was smelling or tasting her, the pounding of her heart hammered in his ears like an eight-foot subwoofer turned to full blast, and he could feel every inch of her luscious body inside and out. Every. Square. Inch. Even the parts he wasn’t touching.
And the parts that were touching him? They merged with his perceptions until he didn’t know where she began and he ended. The muscles of her pussy milked him like a machine—fierce and demanding—but at the same time, his groin throbbed with such power he couldn’t be sure who was doing what to whom. Was she taking or was he giving? Was he causing her pleasure or was she causing his? 
Either way, Lucius couldn’t stop smiling.
Her convulsive channel gradually drifted into peace, and as it settled, the blinding flashbulb of white light faded from Malfoy’s vision. His body buzzed with residual pleasure, but knackered beyond the point of rational thought, he felt unnaturally heavy, as if his bones had been replaced with lead. He suddenly understood Draco’s earlier immobility.
“I think . . .” Hermione paused, panting loudly, “I’m going to have to sleep for a day after all this.”
Lucius kept her against him, but he rolled to the side, afraid he might unexpectedly fall asleep and crush her. “Agreed.”
Hermione stroked his face, and he opened his eyes to find her grinning at him. "Are you okay?" she asked.
“Just a bit tired,” he said lightly. “Possibly slipping into a coma.”
Giggling, she wiggled closer and pecked his lips. "How did you like shagging on the ground?”
“Much better than advertised. If I’m ever capable of movement again, we’ll have to give it another go.”
“I liked it too.”
“I hope Severus can maintain enough concentration to keep you two airborne.”
She glanced over at Snape. “I’ll warn him. I think Draco’s looking a bit perkier. Perhaps the effects are transient.”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“I’m dazed, but not really tired.”
“Then I’ll let you go molest Severus. Just leave me here to regenerate.”
“Saaaay . . . that’s not a bad idea,” she murmured to herself. “Maybe Draco should’ve stayed in the water. He might recover faster in there. I should go tell him.” She pecked the corner of his mouth. “I love you, Lucius.”
Smiling, Lucius lifted his finger—the only appendage he could move—and caressed her chin. “Thank you. I never knew three words could make a man feel so rich. I’m forever in your debt.”
“And I don’t even require an annual fee,” she quipped. “Just flat-rate fucking.”
Lucius chuckled and gave her one last kiss. “My brilliant little dividend—already fluent in the language of Lucius. Save that dirty talk for later, and I’ll give you a quarterly adjustment you won’t soon forget.”
“I intended to collect on that,” she shot back with a smirk. “You’ll never look at bottom-up investing the same way again.”
Pastoral—A composition that evokes a pastoral (rural) lifestyle.
“The Seeds of Love” by Tears for Fears. Written by Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith and released in 1989.
“The music video was directed by Jim Blashfield, who had already made acclaimed videos for Joni Mitchell ("Good Friends"), Paul Simon ("The Boy in the Bubble") and Michael Jackson ("Leave Me Alone"). The video won two awards at the MTV Music Video Awards: Best Breakthrough Video and Best Special Effects. It was also nominated in the "Best Group Video" and "Best Postmodern Video" categories.”—Wikipedia
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=VAtGOESO7W8
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