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Wishes do come True	By : witch Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 5697 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Wishes do come True
- 1
This is a story I wrote for the "Granger Enchanted" Love Actually Christmas Challenge.

My chosen prompt (a.k.a the summary): Hermione is out of her depth as the social secretary for the new Minister for Magic. Romance and hijinks ensue over plans for the Christmas Ball.

Merry Christmas to all of you! Hope you will enjoy this little present of mine :)

~ Special thanks go to my lovely beta Liongirl11 !!! Without her, this story would have been one hell of a grammatical pain in the ass...*grin* ~

Ms Velvela

*************************************

~Wishes do come True~

She was tired.

As Hermione Granger sat half-hidden by the heaps of paperwork on her desk, she cast a quick glance at her charmed wristwatch. Two more hours until lunchtime. Merlin help her. She was barely halfway through her workday, and she was all ready to bury herself somewhere cosy and dark. Who knew the job would entail so bloody much? Certainly not her when she had signed the blasted contract. She had rued that day ever since she set foot in her temporary office. That was nearly two months ago. The worst thing of all, she had no one else to blame but herself.

Her morose brooding was rudely interrupted by a loud cough.

Ah, yes. Her twelve o'clock appointment. Her day was just getting better by the minute.

Plastering an overly polite smile on her face, the young woman rose to her feet.

Nevertheless, before she could utter so much as a greeting, the newcomer spoke first.

'Judging from your scrunched up countenance earlier, I fear the worst. Coming up with new methods to sabotage the house-elf regime? Or perhaps plotting a full-blown campaign against the injustices of this world?'

Just as she had thought. There he was, casually leaning against the door frame: Draco Malfoy, in all of his smirking glory. Auror Malfoy, as he was called nowadays. And consequently, the past and present bane of Hermione's existence, who appeared to have made it his life's mission to drive her bonkers by the end of the year.

'Plotting?' she repeated in a saccharine voice, 'I assure you, Auror Malfoy, that is not the case. You must have been hit by a well-aimed Obliviate on your latest mission, for you have clearly forgotten that I wasn't Sorted into Slytherin. Alas, my Hogwarts upbringing failed to nurture in me the techniques of machination.'

Malfoy frowned as if in deep thought.

'Oh yes, Gryffindor...the house of the brave. How could one possibly fail to remember that? Although, I am starting to have my doubts concerning your particular placement in that House,' he said.

'Please, I cannot wait for you to enlighten me with the wisdom of your hypothesis.'

'Very well. You have lost your courage, Granger.'

Hermione almost spluttered in indignation. What is more, Malfoy appeared to be absolutely serious in his accusation. Before she could rightfully rise to her own defense, the blond wizard waved his hand dismissively.

'Enough chit-chat! I believe I have an appointment with your boss and not one minute to spare in my schedule. Chop-chop.'

Releasing a shuddering breath of pent-up air, Hermione stiffened her back and approached an ornate wooden door. Knocking twice, she did not wait for a response before sticking her head into the room beyond.

'Minister, Draco Malfoy is here to see you,' she stated and, without further ado, popped back to her desk.

Her former classmate spared her one last glance before entering the office of the Minister for Magic, shutting the door firmly behind him. Blessedly alone once more, she absentmindedly pondered what could have possibly brought about such an expression of amusement. She would have thought that her nemesis had long used up his arsenal of mischievousness towards her meagre person.

Sadly, she appeared to have been mistaken.

Grumbling under her breath, Hermione threw herself back into work. Sorting through pages and pages of personal requests and official petitions, she genuinely marvelled at the absolute bedlam that was the Ministry's structural system. Consisting of seven separate departments overall, each of them had branches of their own, including committees, boards and offices. Naturally, every department had its appointed head, who in turn dealt with all affairs within his or her division and was liable to contact the Minister for Magic in only the gravest or most political of cases. All that, however, was a simplified theory at its best.

What lay before her in tumbles of paper, envelopes and memos, was the product of neglect and a disorganized approach. For all intents and purposes, it looked as though all seven Heads of Ministry Departments decided to take extended vacations on the island of Avalon. Simultaneously. For the past two months.

Resisting the urge to bang her head against the desk, the witch snatched the next parchment off the pile. Her eyes automatically ran across the title, which proclaimed the following in bold, clear writing:

"Petition No 164.7"

Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

Regarding Barri Button's 56th appeal for the legalization of fire-breathing chickens

Pros and cons : see below

The thud of a head hitting wood resonated dully across the room.

In the midst of trying to get her act back together, Hermione all but forgot about the ongoing meeting in the office next to hers. Nevertheless, her momentary lapse of memory was quickly remedied by the sound of an opening door. Throwing her head up, the witch winced at the throbbing sensation on her forehead. She really shouldn't have connected against the oak surface as hard as she had.

Flouncing out of the Minister's office, Malfoy paused briefly at the corner of her table. Plain devilry shone within his pale eyes as he surveyed his squinting victim.

'Perhaps that ought to knock some sense into your head. I will pass on your regards to Weasel and Potty, shall I?' he asked and strutted out of her office.

'See you around, Granger!' was his last statement as he disappeared through the doorway.

'You wish,' she muttered.

She was just about to Evanesco an impressive collection of rubbish when a draft of wind blew along the naked skin of her forearms, making her shiver. A brief look around located the cause of the disturbance. The Minister's office door was half open, without a doubt thanks to the previous visitor. Draco Malfoy really was one hell of a snooty arse. The ferret had most probably moved around since birth with the assumption that doors were supposed to open and close for him as if by magic. No pun intended.

Determined to prove her own sensible practicality, the witch stood up. Cursing colourfully within, Hermione approached the doorway cautiously, having every intention of pulling it shut as swiftly and silently as possible. There was no need to tempt fate, so to speak.

Her fingers came into contact with the doorknob.

'Miss Granger, a moment of your time.'

At the sound of the refined voice, the young woman became momentarily paralyzed. With her heart in her throat, she willed herself to take three deep breaths. Once she was absolutely sure that she wasn't in any danger of hyperventilating on the spot, she gingerly crossed the threshold of the office.

'Yes, Minister?'

A handful of steps brought her into a room of a most distinct quality. Fashioned more or less entirely out of wood, it gave off an air of magnificence and sophistication of the highest standard. One had only to look up and take note of the seventy-foot ceiling in order to become suitably impressed. In addition to holding an incalculable number of books, folders and other paperwork, the shelves along the office's perimeter were occupied by an array of various objects. Ranging from minuscule orbs up to rather sizable objects of uncertain shapes, every device appeared to be of unknown origin.

The attributes of the office, however, were the last thing on Hermione's mind. Its rightful occupier and present owner was the sole target of her utmost concentration.

Standing straight as a board, she found herself fighting against a sudden urge to wriggle her hands.

'There is a matter of substantial importance that I wish to discuss with you today. What's the status of my schedule?'

'Your twelve o'clock meeting was the last, sir. The next appointment is not until three p.m. with Arnold Perkins of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,' she replied.

'Excellent.'

For a number of moments, the only sound in the room was the rustling of paper. Acutely aware of the heavy beat of her heart, Hermione silently watched her employer shuffling through a voluminous journal. Upon scribbling something in it with a lavish, eagle quill, he closed it. Leaning back in his grand armchair, the Minister for Magic shifted all of his attention to her, quill still in hand.

'You seem to be somewhat...flustered. Does it by any chance have something to do with my previous visitor?' he drawled in enquiry.

Anything to do with Draco Malfoy? You could put it that way.

Any semi-honest answer was better than the truth.

'Do not take this the wrong way, sir,' said Hermione, choosing her words carefully, 'but sometimes I highly suspect that Auror Malfoy is visiting this office as often as he does, solely for my sake. To antagonize me, that is.'

The Minister's eyebrow quirked in sombre amusement.

'I see. That particular trait does indeed run in the family, I'm afraid,' he acknowledged. 'He is my son, after all.'

And that was most probably the understatement of the year. Nonetheless, Hermione decided to keep her mouth shut out of sheer tact. Truth be told, one did not know when it was wise to agree or disagree with some of the Minister's statements. Especially if he was Lucius Malfoy.

At present, the wizard in question was observing her with uncanny attentiveness.

'Take a seat.'

Hermione did, all the while wondering what was about to be spilled over her head. A range of all possible theories and ideas speedily crossed her mind, each one worse than the next. However, whatever it was, it just couldn't be her most embarrassing secret. Impossible. That reassuring thought, however, did not prevent her from fidgeting in her chair nervously, eyes wide with anxiety.

'Miss Granger,' he said at last, 'do you recall the details of your placement as my secretary?'

Briefly dragged out of her antsy speculations, the young woman unconsciously frowned at the somewhat silly question. Did she remember any of it? Sweet Nimue, she recalled that day as well as if it were yesterday...

~*~

The rainy October morning began like any other workday. Rising as early as usual, Hermione made her way to the Ministry of Magic with sleepy eyes and a full thermos of coffee. Upon the final defeat of Voldemort, she and the rest of her classmates had finally been given a chance to graduate in peace. Equipped with an impressive list of grades, the Golden Trio had decided to pursue their careers within the Ministry of Magic itself. Whilst Harry and Ron had joined the Auror Training Squad, Hermione opted for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Following a trial period of one year, the young witch had been fully accepted into the office. Now, three years onward, she found herself doing something that she loved and had a promising career in front of her.

It wasn't until two hours before the end of her day that her life began to take on a positively torturous shade.

Whilst working on a regulation document, Hermione failed to notice someone hovering by her desk until he cleared his throat.

'Mr. MacKenzie! How can I help you?'

The burly Scotsman smiled broadly back at her. Even though a bit perplexed, the witch failed to show her bewilderment at finding the head of her department standing beside her.

'Miss Granger! As lovely as always, I see!' he rumbled in his distinctive, Highland accent. 'I am here concerning the little chat we had during our meeting last Wednesday. I believe you remember it?'

Barely able to contain her excitement, she nodded.

'Yes, sir.'

'Well...after some deep and thorough consideration, we have decided that you have grown into a remarkably competent specialist and a prominent member of our department. Therefore, we have decided to grant you the opportunity to form your very own committee.'

'Oh! Thank you so much, Mr. MacKenzie! Believe me, I will not disappoint you!' she declared with a joyous smile.

'Hmm. I'm sure that you are simply incapable of such a feat,' he laughed. 'Now, I took the liberty of drawing up a new contract for you, so the sooner you sign it, the quicker the whole procedure shall commence!'

Taking a rather bulky set of official-looking parchments from her employer, Hermione cast a slightly doubtful glance at them before focusing again on the wizard himself.

'Procedure, sir?'

'Ah, yes. Taking into account that there hasn't been a new committee formed in over five decades, I would have been surprised if you had been aware of that particular protocol. As it is, before a new committee can be brought together, its creator and ultimate head has to experience the full extent of his or her responsibilities. Hence, it was decreed that he or she must take on a position as a social secretary for the full period of two months, in order to learn about communication and rapid decision-making. With your position being in the International Magical Cooperation, that skill would be very useful to you!'

The witch in question remained silent for some time.

'May I enquire how...old is that decree?' she asked.

'Naturally! It was brought into existence by Patel Marwick, a member of the Wizengamot sometime during the seventeenth century.'

'I see.'

Indeed, she clearly saw that the wizarding world was in need of an update. Nevertheless, as she wasn't heading her own committee yet, all further thoughts on her part would have to wait until the end of her "probation" period. For the most part, she did not see anything wrong with becoming a temporary social secretary. How difficult could that possibly be?

With a slight smile on her face, Hermione opened the first page of her contract with the clear intention of reading through its contents from top to bottom.

'I assure you, Miss Granger, that there is no point in wasting your precious time on such frivolity! The agreement consists mostly of countless details and old-fashioned rules that hardly apply to our modern way of living. You could just sign the last page of the contract with no worry in your heart, my dear,' said MacKenzie with an encouraging nod.

The witch hesitated momentarily. As a matter of fact, she had tons of files to sort through by the end of the day, and the present reading was in danger of consuming the better part of her available time. What was more, he was her boss, and she trusted him with every aspect of her working life.

Without further ado, Hermione grabbed the nearest quill and signed the dotted line.

As soon as her signature appeared, the paper glowed for an instant before popping out of existence. The magical binding of the contract was complete.

Angus MacKenzie was observing her with a distinct glint in his eyes.

'Superb! Permit me to be the first one to congratulate you on your first step, Miss Granger! From tomorrow on, you will work in your new position until the end of the required time, which falls on Christmas Day. I am looking forward to welcoming you anew next year. I'm sure I will see you around until then.'

It was perhaps the suspiciously familiar twinkle in her employer's eyes that caused a surge of sudden panic within her.

'Mr. MacKenzie! You forgot to tell me whom I will be working for!'

The wizard paused momentarily in the doorway.

'Didn't I? Oh my, I do apologize. Your new boss will be no other than the Minister himself! I am sure Mr. Malfoy will find you very competent in all possible areas. Good day!'

Upon the successful deliverance of his proverbial dung-bomb, her ex-employer disappeared, leaving a gaping Hermione Granger behind.

At that point in time, the young witch was convinced of only one thing.

If there really was someone up there in the sky, they really had it in for her.

~*~

Hauling herself out of her memory, Hermione concentrated on the present.

'Yes, Mr. Malfoy. I remember it quite well,' she said.

The Minister continued to contemplate her with his impossibly grey eyes. Whilst he did so, he seemingly unconsciously twirled the eagle quill between his elegant fingers. Feeling virtually hypnotized, the young woman's eyes followed their movement. At some point she had to bite down on her lower lip in order to prevent herself from doing something foolish.

'Good.'

The deep sound of the wizard's voice snapped Hermione back to attention.

'Then,' he continued slowly, 'you must recall the fact that your position is actually titled social secretary. So far, you have proven yourself as a very capable secretary, but as of yet, you have not been given a chance to tackle one single societal project. Nevertheless, I have decided to give you a unique opportunity to prove your worth once and for all. Upon the successful completion of your role as my social secretary, the entire Ministry will welcome you as the rightful head of a new committee with open arms and project grants at the ready.'

She was almost afraid to ask.

'And what shall my duty entail?'

Just for a moment, she could have sworn that the Minister pursed his mouth in a self-satisfied smirk. When she blinked, however, his face was back to its usual impassive self.

'As you well know, the Annual Christmas Ball is the social event of the year. With this being my first Christmas as the newly appointed Minister for Magic, I have decided to host this year's event at Malfoy Manor,' he declared. 'Since I am once again a bachelor and the Manor no longer possesses a lawful Mistress, all duties shall be passed on to you as my social secretary and the organizer of the upcoming Christmas Ball. Any questions?'

All of a sudden, Hermione began to feel curiously faint. Head swimming, she attempted to concentrate on the most pressing trail of her thoughts, but to no avail. She simply blurted out the first thing that popped into her mind.

'But, sir...Christmas is only a week away.'

'Correct. And that's why you are going to be staying over at the Manor for the duration of that period.'

The witch's mouth dropped open, but no words appeared to be forthcoming.

'That will be all. I will be waiting for you here precisely at seven p.m., and the two of us will Floo through my personal network. Do not be late,' he reminded her and pulled out a stack of documents for inspection.

Unmistakably dismissed, Hermione slowly made her way to her office. The trance-like state began to subside only fifteen minutes later, when she all of a sudden found herself staring blankly at the wall opposite her. Once her body and mind came back to their basic functions, she whimpered out loud.

Merlin help me...I am so screwed.

As a matter of fact, she had truly found herself in the most pathetic situation of all.

How in hell she would manage to live and work at Malfoy Manor without revealing her overwhelming lust for Lucius Malfoy, she did not know.

~*~

Six days later...

She was on the verge of losing her marbles, she was sure of that.

Standing in the middle of the Malfoy Manor ballroom, Hermione was staring in disbelief at a two-foot-long parchment in her hand. Just last night she had inspected all of her notes, memos and planning journals with the clear assurance that all was finally in order. Invitations had been sent, one hundred and twenty-three Portkeys authorised, fifty gallons of every possible beverage transported...the list went on. Nevertheless, she felt free to sigh in contentment at the knowledge that all the bedlam was about to come to an end.

How wrong she was.

Hand trembling, she shook the offending paper over her head.

'Chucky, what the hell is this?' she bellowed.

The house-elf at the base of a forty-foot Christmas tree addressed her without bothering to turn around.

'It is a list for Manor's conservatories, galleries. Need to make program for visitors to tour tomorrow.'

'It's a Christmas ball, for Merlin's sake! Not a British Museum excursion! The guests are coming to drink and dance, not to stare at some hybrid gardenias!'

The creature finally paused in the midst of its labours to grace her with a pointed look. Its large blue eyes clearly portrayed his disdain.

'Tours is tradition. Muggle-born Missy clearly does not know the proper customs,' he proclaimed calmly.

The "Missy" in question was just about to come up with a scathing response when her eyes finally registered what the blasted house-elf was working on. To be more precise, what kind of ornaments he was in the process of levitating onto the tree.

'Are those snakes?'

'Tradition,' he retorted.

Hermione was close to bursting a blood vessel. Her glare continuing to bore a hole in the house-elf's back, she absentmindedly wondered what had ever pushed her to come up with such a feeble idea as S.P.E.W. The creature in front of her was a clear example of a lost case. Who ever thought of naming their house-elf after a killer doll anyway? However, she already had an idea of who had had a hand in his christening.

'Gosh, Granger, if looks could kill, you would have our house-elf pushing up daisies already.'

Speak of the devil.

The young woman turned to scowl at the wizard behind her.

Ever since her relocation to Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy had taken it upon himself to become her backside's very own thorn. Whilst she had managed to avoid the Minister like the plague itself, she hadn't been so lucky with his son. The blond ferret had an annoying habit of popping up everywhere at once. At times, Hermione was overwhelmed with an unexplained sensation that her former classmate was trying to wear her down. For what purpose, however, she did not know.

'Perhaps you would be so kind as to order your servant to stop hanging limbless reptiles on a Christmas tree?' she asked.

The blond wizard gave her a scandalized look.

'Why would I do that? It is a well-known fact that the Malfoys have always been associated with the House of Slytherin. I do not see a reason why our custom should be cancelled this year. Or would you have us hang those ridiculous red balls?'

'I am sure if it was all up to you, Malfoy, you would happily have Dementors hanging off those ornamental hooks instead, spreading their Christmas cheer all night long!'

'My, my...someone really needs to get laid,' he drawled.

'Malfoy?'

'Hm?'

'Go shrivel up and die.'

Turning on her heel, a fuming Hermione stormed out of the ballroom, accompanied all the while, by booming laughter behind her.

'I did tell you that I would be seeing you around, Granger!' Malfoy managed to call out before she reached the doorway, 'It seems that wishes do come true, after all!'

If wishes were wings, pigs would fly.

Oh, but how she wished they could.

~*~
Christmas Eve

The wizarding world had never witnessed a Christmas ball of such magnitude and success as it did that year.

Despite the grand proportions of the Manor's ballroom, there was no room to swing a kneazle. Over four hundred wizards and witches had accepted the Minister's gracious invitation. Above the gathered guests, an awe-inspiring chandelier threw the soft glow of countless candles upon them. In addition to levitating lights, dazzling specks of brilliance could be seen soaring frequently through the air. As the night wore on, the most inebriated ones began to futilely attempt to grab hold of them, but they were merely met with crystalline giggles. Fairies might have been vain, but they were extremely fast.

Music played languidly through the chamber, coaxing a number of couples to try their luck at waltzing, whilst others enjoyed themselves in festive bantering or munching on the vast collection of floating refreshments. Overall, everyone was busy doing one thing or another, time whizzing past unnoticed.

By the time midnight had come and gone, most of the alcoholic beverages were gone and what remained of the eggnog was potently spiked. Days later, one of Hermione's Ministry coworkers would swear that she had witnessed none other than the Transylvanian Minister and Severus Snape clinging to each other whilst wobbling along one of the corridors, discussing vampiric lore and the advantages of its use in advertisement campaigns.

When most had become sloshed to the point where Chucky fell victim to a number of "close-relative" misidentifications, the guests clearly reached the pinnacle of their happiness and rushed towards the dance floor. The border between the young and old generations suddenly evaporated, and all began to shake their respective limbs and bottoms to the booming sounds of the latest Weird Sisters hits.

Everyone appeared to be merry and happy.

Hermione, on the other hand, was exhausted.

After spending the first half of the night accepting incalculable compliments for her "outstanding accomplishment", her cheeks were stinging from all the smiling. The worst part, however, awaited her during the remaining half of Christmas Eve. As the official social secretary of the Minister for Magic, she had no other choice but to follow him wherever he went. Feeling like some kind of love-sick puppy, the young woman trailed Lucius Malfoy from one group of guests to another, remaining at his side even during the official speech that evening. All the while, Hermione's nerves tightened to the point where they were as taut as a violin string. Having had no opportunity to down even one drink in order to relax herself, she was precariously close to snapping.

Therefore, upon discovering that the Minister was nowhere in sight and the rest of the guests were cheerfully indulging themselves in various frivolities, Hermione grabbed her chance.

Having successfully pulled off her hasty escape, the witch began to make her unhurried way toward her temporary sleeping quarters.

Looking back now at the past two months, she regarded them as something akin to persecution. After two years of fancying someone from afar, she had suddenly found herself thrust into the same vicinity as him. Her laid-back whim had transformed into a sexual longing of epic proportions. However, no matter what her body demanded, the young woman's mind knew that Lucius Malfoy was not a man with whom to trifle. She could just imagine the disgust that would appear on his face if he ever discovered her attraction to him. No matter how clever she perceived herself to be, she was still a woman and thus, easy to hurt with the mere notion of rejection. Therefore, she hid her desire for him as well as she could, whilst continuing to be consumed by it from within.

Nevertheless, all that was finally at an end now. The stroke of midnight marked the end of her contract. She was no longer the social secretary of the Minister for Magic.

That last thought had just barely managed to whiz through her mind when all of a sudden, a hand shot out from behind one of the heavy curtains and grabbed hold of her. Letting out an involuntary squeal, Hermione found herself yanked sideways until she collided against something warm and solid.

Heart racing, the first thing that registered with her was that it was dark. Blinking owlishly a couple of times, the interior of her surroundings became cleared, and she found herself standing in some kind of hidden alcove. Next, she became aware of someone's strong hands upon her waist. Barely breathing, she lifted her head and found herself staring into the arctic eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

'Do. Not. Speak,' he growled.

The young woman froze as she was, her mouth half-opened. For the first time ever, she was seeing the wizard in front of her without his usual self-control. The man in front of her looked almost...feral.

Hermione nearly whimpered at the swiftness with which her channel was suddenly flooded with wetness.

Before she knew what was happening, she found herself against the wall, her face resting against the cool stone. With the front of his strong body touching her back, his hands landed on either side of her head, trapping her within the prison of his strong arms.

'For months I have watched you,' he whispered hotly into her ear. 'At first, I observed your rising yearning for me from a distance. However, when I saw the true extent of your lust for me, my own could no longer be denied. Your passionate eyes went hot the second I came into your view. The plumpness of your lips parted with your quickening breath at the mere sound of my voice...you have been driving me insane without even realising it.'

Without warning, he licked the shell of her ear, making Hermione moan out load.

'Thus, I waited. Waited for you to approach me, finally make your desire for me known. But no! You are too proud for your own well-being, aren't you?'

Grabbing hold of her hips, the wizard holstered her up almost to her toes. Bringing her to a desired level, he thrust his hips sharply against hers. A further tug made sure that she acutely felt the whole length and heaviness of his cock, even through his trousers.

Oh, Sweet Nimue.

'Do you even comprehend,' he growled into her ear, 'how long it took me to dig up that bloody, long-forgotten committee decree? Hm? And even then you continued to succumb to your fear! You were a coward to deny yourself but a heartless shrew to deny me!''

'I...I d-didn't�'

'The time for words is over, Miss Granger...the time for action has arrived.'

In the blink of an eye, Hermione was deposited upon a narrow recess in the wall, her legs wide open and her scarlet dress scrunched up almost to her waist. Breathing heavily, she watched through half-lidded eyes as the man in front of her tore through his clothing, revealing the firm body beneath. Her foggy gaze ran hungrily across the naked broadness of his shoulders, the clear muscles of his stomach, the tantalizing path of dark blond hair that ran from his navel all the way to...

The young woman swallowed.

Before her was probably the most perfect cock on that side of the hemisphere. Being just a shade darker than the rest of him, Lucius' organ left nothing to the imagination as it stood proud and erect in all of its long and thick glory. Her empty cunt pulsed at the mere thought of how hot that flesh would feel inside of her. Hermione gave an involuntary whimper.

In a flash, the blond wizard appeared in front of her, looking directly at the apex of her thighs.

'Spread your legs.'

She complied, moving her hips to a more suitable position.

'Wider,' he hissed.

Once satisfied with the offering before him, Lucius grabbed hold of her thigh with his left hand, whilst his other snaked to the pulsating centre of all her nerves.

The witch gave a low sob of pleasure when his elegant fingers pressed unabashedly against the flimsy material of her thong.

'Oh yes,' cooed the wizard, moving his digits firmly against the outline of her nether lips, 'your pussy is already getting familiar to my touch. You are positively dripping, witch.'

With a sharp tug and a rip, her underwear was successfully disposed of. Half-incoherent with the sheer sensation of his hand upon her naked flesh, the curly-haired witch closed her eyes.

'Look at me!'

Snapping back to attention, her brown eyes focused on the blond wizard between her legs. Pinned in place by his gaze alone, she could only watch as he brought his glistening index finger to his mouth and licked it delicately.

'Mmm...delectable,' he purred.

Hermione was on the verge of climaxing right there and then.

'Please...I beg of you...Lucius.'

'Ah. You do know my name, then...splendid. Then I'm sure you won't mind if I call you Hermione, will you?'

Without waiting for an answer, he hauled her forward to a more accessible position. Then he was inside.

Groaning, she dug her fingers painfully into the stones beneath her, trying to fight in vain the sounds he pushed from her at the mere sensation of him tunnelling endlessly inside of her. For a moment, the two of them remained utterly still, letting her inner walls adjust to him. Grip him.

'Oh no, witch,' he breathed, a sheen of moisture glistening upon his brow, 'I ordered you not to speak. Feel free to make whatever sounds you wish, however.'

Seated to the hilt, he was suddenly pulling out, the friction sending shivers down her body. And in. Slowly. So thick and perfect that she felt every glorious inch. She moaned.

Then, abruptly, he slammed in. The sudden action squeezed out a shriek of pleasure from her. Without giving her a moment to adjust to his new onslaught, Lucius fell on her, thrusting into her pussy viciously. The primal sound that emitted from her throat was somewhere between a scream and a groan. Fingers still digging tightly into the flesh of her thigh, his other hand fisted in her hair. His mouth descended on hers, and she welcomed his power without a single thought of denial.

Her first orgasm crept up on her unnoticed, and she released her shriek of completion right into his devouring mouth. Fists tight in his hair and her legs locked about his hips, she bucked against him as sensation after sensation rocked her body. And still he pounded into her. Both wet with perspiration, their skin glistened in the glow of a single candle.

The slapping sound of flesh against flesh rang like music in Hermione's ears while she clung to Lucius' big body as the movement of his hips slid that wonderful cock in and out of her. Her full breasts � the upper part of her dress had been yanked down sometime during their fucking � shook in tandem with his every powerful thrust.

The witch went nearly cross-eyed as she felt the approach of her second orgasm. Sensing that she was on the edge, Lucius picked up the pace. Encircling her waist, he pressed them chest-to-chest, his hips pumping furiously. Grey eyes stared into brown ones, inches apart, their heavy breathing mingling together.

Still staring into the pools of silver, her body shuddered the second time, and she climaxed with a resonating scream. Then, as her walls tightened around his cock like a velvet vice, Lucius was no longer able to withhold his own pleasure. With a roar, he slammed into her quivering pussy one last time as he came.

Warmth flooded her, body and soul. She welcomed the wizard's weight as he reclined, half-sprawled, atop her.

Eventually he pulled out of her, and Hermione was still trying to catch her breath when he broke the silence.

'I trust that was efficient enough to put your fears to rest...Hermione?'

The satisfied witch grinned lazily.

'It was, Lucius...it definitely was.'

~*~

Two hours later, the couple was in the process of inspecting the remains of the almost vacant ballroom when the young woman's eyes spied another platinum-blond head amongst the chairs on the opposite wall.

Sprawled between his two snoring mortal enemies � Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley � the young wizard's chaotic hair clearly portrayed the level of his intoxication. Momentarily confused by his surroundings, Draco Malfoy's bleary eyes, however, landed quite quickly upon his father and his former social secretary.

For a number of moments, neither of them moved. Staring squarely at her, Malfoy suddenly gave her an unexpected wiggle of his eyebrows. A knowing smirk twisted the corner of his mouth in wry amusement.

Hermione stared uncertainly back at him before she nearly burst out laughing.

The man at her side detected her sudden amusement.

'What is it?" he purred in enquiry.

'Simply musing about wishes.'

'What about them?'

Shining brown eyes lifted to his with pure happiness shining from within.

'Just wondering where that flock of flying pigs shall travel to for winter, that's all.'

Indeed, it seemed that Draco Malfoy had finally proved his wisdom in the most unlikely place of all.

Wishes do come true.

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Well, there you go! Would love to read any feedback of yours...and if you leave an email address, I would definitely get back to you (HUGS)

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Wishes do come True