Three eternities past perfection take a left.

Her mirror was lying to her. The damn thing was enchanted, a gift from Arthur. It showed her as she was twenty years ago. Tall, and thin, with long curling red hair. Now, after seven children, her skin was too rosy, and her hair had lost its vibrancy. She was no longer thin. Her breasts were too large, nearly droopy on a bad day. Children, among other things, had ruined her. The war, the endless worry and expectations; everything seem to have fallen on the wayside.

 

She stepped away from the mirror summoning a bathrobe. She could already hear the house awakening. When the shrieking began, she knew her morning peace was over. She dressed quickly and without looking in the mirror again.

 

 

“Mum, where’s breakfast?” The need and arrogance was overwhelming.

 

She resisted the urge to continue walking right out of the door. “Out,” she snapped. “I can work much faster without you lot hovering about.” She leaned against the sink hiking up her overly large sweatshirt. Breakfast was her job, as was lunch and dinner. Everything was her job. It wasn’t quite resentment she felt. Molly had chosen to be a wife, a mother. She had Bill too early and Arthur suddenly expected her to be…nothing but a mum.

 

Pale hands slid under her sweatshirt stroking the body part she was least proud of. She held off, as long as possible but after Ginny, she just couldn’t get back her thin frame. She leaned back feeling the hard lines of his body. Molly envied Lucius. He was as lean and beautiful as his school days.

 

“Mm,” she moaned when his fingers plied with her erect nipple. His laugh was infectious, passing through her and sending warm pinpricks down her body. “Lucius,” she snapped.

 

Again the laugh, but this time accompanied by his hand moving to undo her jeans. “Is this what you want, my dear? To be fucked bent over the kitchen sink?”

 

“Yes,” she whispered, her hands floating over his. “Anytime now Malfoy.” Her frustration was peaking and she spun within his grasp letting his erection press against her stomach.

 

Lucius was always gentle during sex, indulgent even. He allowed her to push his shirt off his shoulders and nip at his chest making her way towards the top of his trousers. His open warm look was all the encouragement she needed. Her movements were languid as she cupped him first through his pants and then reached inside to feel the soft skin of his cock.

 

He tasted salty but sweet, the familiarity comforting her. It always seemed new to her though, his taste. She sucked his head first, hard, like he liked it; and then more gently to be a tease. Molly could feel the salty pre-cum drip into her mouth. She hated the taste of Arthur but Lucius just seemed cleaner. She could stomach him cumming down her throat. She savoured it; he rarely gave over the control that was so hard won. She massaged his thighs encouraging him to pump into her.

 

He needed none though; his hands were sinking into her hair letting the soft strands pass through his fingers. They were easy together; it was hardly their first time. He knew that when he rubbed her neck she would moan and as a reward let him slid down her throat.

 

If she sucked hard enough, if her hands kneaded his balls just right, if he licked her nipple, if he bit her clit and made her scream….their arrangement was a game.

 

Currently she was winning. Her hands brushed against his ass and today she wanted to feel more of him. She let her finger slip inside him, watching his face closely as she held him in her throat. “Molly,” he rasped out even as his hips surged forward seeking more of her touch.

 

She nuzzled the blond curls at the base of his dick, worming her finger all the way in. He was coming undone right in front of her. She crocked her finger finding his prostate and he snapped. His hands tugged her hair and she was suddenly flying as he lifted her onto the counter. He was tender again when he kissed her.

 

With a murmured word her jeans and knickers were gone leaving her exposed to him. “Bashful,” he hissed against her ear motioning towards her closed legs. She bit his neck as punishment for his cheek.

 

He was laughing at her again and her anger flared along with her arousal. “I hate you,” she whispered melodramatically.

 

He raised an eyebrow sliding a hand up her thigh and plunging it inside her cunt. “Mm, and do you hate this,” he asked lowering his head to her breast. He bit down on her nipple as his cock slipped into her.

 

He was too big; he could feel her squirm and try to adjust as he fucked her steadily. The wet slapping sounds their bodies made only encouraged him. They were rocking, him pressed so deep into her she felt his cock hit her womb with each thrust.

 

It was a deep and through penetration that never seemed to end. Until it was over and she felt herself tumbling to the floor, Lucius still frantically pumping into her. She had never felt so wet in her life. His eyes were closed under her and she smashed her lips to his, demanding he finish. Her hips were moving before she could think. It didn’t matter that she was no longer fucking but rutting against her blond lover. His grey eyes were stormy with want when he snagged her hip and calmly guided them back together.

 

She came moaning outrageously for him.

 

He followed seating himself even more deeply in her with their new position and sucking her breast hard.

 

He splayed his hands across her back and hips rubbing small circles over her flushed skin. “Get up, you silly woman; I have work to do today.”

 

She fell clumsily onto him ignoring his demand. He was beautiful after they fucked. Where she was soft and sweaty, he was warm, eloquent and glowing. He shifted her and they both felt the renewed pleasure of being connected. She was on her side now, facing him.

 

When did she exchange love for understanding? Arthur loved her, he still did. Granted he was kind, sweet, and rather clueless. She couldn’t compartmentalize her life the way he could. She was afraid and his assurances that Dumbledore would work things out were not enough. Them, their cause, their way of life was in limbo. Very few of them had a firm grasp on reality. There was a frailty in the Order that scared the hell out of her.

 

“There is hope, Molly.” She turned away from him knowing it made little difference. He had already seen her thoughts. He pressed a hand to her waist drawing her back to him. “-even if you have given up on the only thing that can bring you comfort if the world goes dark.” The world, not just the wizarding world but the muggles as well.

 

“You’re comforting,” she said feeling like a teenage witch again.

 

He huffed in her ear, “am I not temporary?” That made her smile and then she broke into a nervous giggle. They were absurd.

 

“How are we defining permanent?”

 

His eyes became brilliantly clear for a moment, the levity gone. “Get up now, Molly,” he hummed in his perfect aristocrat voice. She closed her eyes craning her face to press against his shoulder.

 

He gave her five minutes. Five minutes in which she could feel desired and relaxed, then he easily lifted her and began to redress them both. Her first. The billowing blue sweatshirt, the faded black jeans. There was nothing to be done about her hair. He was unwilling to confine the curls. She looked very demure sitting in front of him; her big green eyes giving him pause. He kissed her forehead leaving her sitting, completely satisfied, on the kitchen floor.

 

 

He hadn’t bothered to tie up her hair, so neither did she. She stood for a moment watching the snowfall. “Molly?”

 

She tuned sharply her Eton blue meaning his hazel. “What is it Remus?”

 

He stood in the doorway his eyes hard and unforgiving. He had seen them, she knew. They hadn’t bothered with discretion. She didn’t care. Let him know that she was fucking them both. She felt herself blush. Remus was intolerant, he bruised and shoved her up against walls and basically man handled her. He made her feel fragile, and completely fuckable.

 

“I watched you, and him,” he whispered. “He doesn’t leave you sore and moaning. He’s gentle and refined. Is that why you let him touch you?”

 

“Yes,” she answered honestly. Lucius stroked, soothed, and wrapped her up tight when she wanted to cry.

 

“Bend over.”