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For the Right Reasons

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Flourish and Blotts was packed. It seemed as if everyone had chosen that one particular day to get their children's shopping done for the forthcoming school year. Hermione waved at Harry and Ginny. She saw Draco and his wife enter the shop, their son in his arms pointing excitedly at everything as two year-olds tended to do. Her heart stopped for a moment. Spying her, he gave a curt, though not unfriendly nod, which she returned. She glanced around the rest of the shop surreptitiously. Not finding what she was searching for, Hermione turned to her husband.

“Ron, why don’t you go ahead and take Rose to George’s shop? I’ll be a while longer here.”

“How many books are planning to buy this time?” he teased.

She smiled back. “A couple. Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Yeah, okay then,” he said with a sigh. “Just don’t buy out the whole store, all right?”

“No promises.” She kissed his cheek, gave Rose a hug and kiss, and went back to browsing in one of the dusty back corners.

Hermione waited five minutes, before glancing around, and casting a quick Disillusionment charm. She brushed past Draco and headed out of the shop as quickly as she dared. Even though she was sure her charm would hold up against scrutiny, she checked up and down the street before ducking into the alley next to the bookstore.

Her heart began pounding in her chest as she neared the back of the shop, and nearly stopped when she rounded the corner. Hermione dispelled her charm and stepped fully into the back alley. His eyes locked on her immediately, but he remained leaning against the wall, and his nonchalant stance did not change. He rolled his cane between his fingers and waited for her to approach, looking as if he had all the time in the world.

Hermione came to a stop before him, and stood looking into his eyes. “I didn't know if you'd got my last owl.”

He cocked an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. Hermione felt filthy; as filthy as the alley they stood in. “What are you waiting for? I don’t have all day.”

She glanced back toward the mouth of the alley once more, and then fell to her knees in front of him without another word. The insufferable smirk never left his face as he reached down to part his robes and undo the buttons of his fly. He reached inside his trousers, fishing out his cock, still soft and uninterested in her.

Hermione recalled the first time they had met like this, the memory vivid as he took himself in hand. That first time had been an upscale and probably pricey hotel room rather than a dirty alley behind her favorite bookstore. She wasn’t sure which one made her feel cheaper.

“I trust you remember how this goes.”

Hermione ducked her head, the memory of her last round of humiliation at this man’s hands coloring her cheeks. She gave him a jerky nod, reaching for the clasp of her jacket.

“Slowly now,” he murmured in that condescending way of his that she hated so much. “Make me believe you want it.”

She swallowed the retort on her lips and pushed her jacket off her shoulders in the parody of seduction he demanded from her before she slowly began to unbutton her blouse. He didn't begin to stroke the hardening flesh in his hand until she had bared her breasts to his gaze. Hermione arched her back, pinching her nipples into stiff peaks.

“Mmm, that's it,” he whispered, his predatory gaze fixated on her chest, but he only continued to lean against the wall as he wanked above her.

She knew what he was waiting for, and even though she had come to him, the word stuck in her throat. Hermione blinked back her tears, but couldn't stop the tremble of her lower lip as she finally whispered, “Please…”

She didn't react when he slapped her across the face with his cock. When he smiled and did it again she couldn't keep her lip from curling in disgust.

“Oh, did you not enjoy that, Miss Granger?” he asked with false concern.

She didn't correct him on her name, not keen on being reminded of what she was doing. Instead she took a deep, steadying breath, and implored once more, “Please, Mr. Malfoy.”

He moved to strike her again as she knew he would. At the last second, she turned her head, opened wide, and sucked him inside with a moan.

“That hungry for it, are you?”

She ignored his taunting as he pushed inside her mouth. The first time, all those years ago, she had expected him to be rough with her, to hold her in place and take what he wanted. Hermione knew better now. His hand moved to cup the back of her head, but nothing more. Lucius Malfoy wasn't interested in punishment. She had discovered that quickly the first time. Lucius Malfoy favored humiliation and she would have to deal with it to get what she wanted. It meant that his idea of a good time was forcing her to treat him like a lover.

When he spoke again, there was an undercurrent of disappointment in his tone that snapped her mind out of its wandering thoughts. “On second thought, you don’t really seem that enthusiastic. Perhaps you really don’t want what I have to offer.”

Hermione redoubled her efforts, slurping and moaning noisily as if she had never tasted anything so good as the bitter liquid leaking onto her tongue.

“Better.” He was slightly out of breath, but still far too composed to be convinced. She moved her head back and forth, taking him as deeply as she dared.

“You know I would have preferred it if you'd worn a skirt.”

“Mmm,” she moaned, sucking harder to distract him. It was precisely why she hadn't worn one. She heard his breath catch and he finally began to move his hips, no longer content to make her do all the work.

“Show me,” he hissed.

Hermione closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in frustration. She should have known he wouldn't let her off the hook so easily. Giving her breasts one last squeeze, she let her hands wander down to rest at the button on her pants. When his fingers tightened incrementally in her hair in warning, she popped the button and lowered her zipper.

Her hand worked down inside her pants as he took over guiding her head, threatening to force himself into her throat without actually doing so. He knew the rules. Thankfully he adhered to them even if he were willing to skirt the edge of acceptable.

No kissing on the mouth. No marks. I have a husband to go home to when we've finished.

Ron might be dense, but even he would wonder why she suddenly had a scratchy throat, and she couldn't have him looking too closely.

Hermione withdrew her hand, holding it up above her head. Lucius grasped her wrist tightly. “How long since he's touched you?”

She pulled off him with a gasp, “Two weeks,” and then leaned forward again to close her lips around him. She knew the rules too.

Come to me tainted and our deal is off, Miss Granger.

He raised her hand higher as he leaned down and sucked her fingers into his mouth. His tongue probed all around her digits, gathering up the taste of her. It was embarrassing how wet she got watching him from the corner of her eye, listening to him devour her essence, not that she hadn't been plenty wet already.

He pulled her fingers from his mouth with a wet smack and a groan, then pushed her to the ground. She lay there on the dirty cobblestone, propped up on her elbows as he stepped forward to stand over her, boots on either side of her hips. Nearly a dozen swift strokes and his precious seed rained down on her. It ran down the valley between her breasts and pooled in her navel as he milked the last few drops onto her stomach, breathing deeply to calm himself.

“Same place. Six o'clock. Dress appropriately this time,” he said as he tucked himself away lazily, buttoning his trousers with slow, deliberate movements. Lucius knelt over her, and swiped a hand down her chest, down over her stomach, and dipped inside her pants to sweep his hand and the mess on her skin through her curls.

“You belong to me.” He smirked. “You'll wear my scent until we meet to prove this to me.”

Hermione's eyes widened in panic. “No, he'll find out.”

“That's your problem. I trust you can figure it out. By all means though, if you change your mind, feel free to wash it off.”

He stood up and straightened his robes, giving her a knowing look. “I'll see you tonight.” Then he apparated away, leaving her lying half-dressed in the alley, feeling like the filth she was lying in.

Tears of humiliation pricked at her eyes, but she didn't let them fall as she set about righting her clothes. Her mind was already working overtime to figure out what she was going to say if Ron noticed. She hoped he didn't notice.


As it turned out, she needn't have worried quite so much. George's shop was busy, much more so than Flourish and Blotts had been. He had been the one who had truly concerned her. If anyone could sniff out a secret, it was him. George was too preoccupied, running back and forth between the front and back of the shop as customers harangued him about one thing or another.

As she stood rooted to the floor, taking in the spectacle, Ron stepped up beside her, little Rose in his arms. “It's a madhouse in here. Was just going to go look for you. Think maybe we should head out?”

“Yes. Definitely,” she answered, pulling herself out of her stupor.

“Right then.” Ron put his arm around her shoulder, steering the three of them through the crowd. A quick trip through George’s Floo, and they were home. Hermione took their daughter from him, and set about putting her down for her afternoon nap. It was just past one, which meant she had a little over four hours to keep her secret intact.

“Didn't really get to talk to George.”

“He probably regrets giving you the day off,” she replied, fussing with Rose's blanket just for something to do, something to keep her occupied.

Ron laughed quietly. “Oh yeah he does. Said he'd see us ‘round mum and dad's though.”

“Tomorrow…” She wasn’t really looking forward to the weekly Sunday dinner at the Burrow. Molly was the main reason she had just been humiliated by a man she could barely stand and would be again later that night. She was the blasted reason she was currently attempting to hide the evidence of another man’s touch from her husband.

“Yeah, tomorrow’s good.” What was one more day of pretending to be civil anyway?

“You didn’t get anything?”

Hermione’s head snapped around and she looked at Ron in confusion. “What?”

He made a wild gesture with his hands. “No books?”

“Oh, no um- I preordered. They won’t be in for a few weeks.” She would have to remember to stop by the bookshop soon and do so.

“Okay,” he laughed, “‘cause I was gonna say that didn’t seem like you.”

“Well not to worry,” she smiled back. “I'm the same old bookworm I've always been.”

Getting away from Ron for the day had been the course of action she had decided on, less risk that way. Thank Merlin she had started setting up for the possibility weeks ago. Now she just had to find a way to broach the topic.

“So, I was thinking,” he started, “that since we’re going ‘round mum and dad’s tomorrow, maybe we could drop Rose off tonight. Let the grandparents spend a bit of time spoiling ‘er and maybe we could go out tonight.” He was looking at her hopefully, and inside she was panicking.

“It’s just that we haven’t really had any time together lately…”

“I know. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” She hadn’t thought it possible to feel any worse about lying to him than she already did, but Ron was tugging on her heartstrings with his sincerity.

“So that’s a yes?”

“No, I’m actually getting ready to head out here in a bit.”

“For what?”

“Well, I have a meeting about my translation.”

At Ron’s blank look she added with an exasperated sigh, “My translation of The Tales of Beedle The Bard ?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “We’re getting close to a publishing date. I did tell you.”

“Sorry, I forgot,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay. Anyway, I’m meeting with my editor and hopefully I’ll have good news and then we can take some time for just the two of us.” She rubbed his shoulder encouragingly. “Look why don’t you go ahead and take Rosie tonight. You know you’re parents would love to see her and I know you’ve been missing your mum’s cooking.”

“You’re really okay with that?” he asked skeptically.

“Absolutely,” she smiled back.

Ron’s face lit up and he kissed her on the cheek. When he added, “Thanks ‘Mione. You’re the best,” she was afraid she was going to throw up.


Hermione knocked on the hotel room door promptly at six. It brought back so many memories. Too many of them were sickeningly pleasant. She almost turned and ran the other way. Molly's shrill voice echoed in her ears, making her hesitate, and then she heard the click of the door latch and knew it was too late anyway.

When Lucius Malfoy opened the door, standing aside to let her in, he did so without the condescending sneer that normally graced his features, but in his gaze she could clearly see how amused he was that she was there. He looked to be in a playful mood. Unfortunately.

The door closed behind her. Then Lucius was there behind her, murmuring in her ear, “Allow me to take your coat,” like a perfect gentleman; like they were on a sodding date.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, unfastening it and letting him slip it off her shoulders.

“You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered in a bit of a daze.

When she looked up, he was looking at her expectantly. “You look quite dashing tonight,” she added hurriedly.

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement before offering his arm to her. She took it with a tremble in her hand. Lucius led her into the room to a table set with a romantic candlelit dinner.

She began to protest. “I'm really not hun-”

Lucius cut her off, his words an angry hiss right next to her ear. “I didn't ask if you were hungry. You're going to sit down and enjoy your meal because I wish it. If this is at all unacceptable you know where the door is.”

He paused for a moment, holding out her chair, waiting for her to make a decision, and when she stood rooted to the floor, he continued in a more conversational tone, “Please take your seat.”

He pushed her chair in for her before seating himself across from her. Lucius then poured them each a glass of champagne as their food appeared before them. It looked and smelled amazing, but she still wasn't really interested in eating it. She forced herself to take a bite, responding woodenly when he decided to strike up a conversation.

This continued for several minutes until he said, “Look at me, Miss Granger.”

When her eyes focused on his, he continued. “Need I remind you that you came to me?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.”

He sipped at his glass slowly, savoring it, before he asked, “Why did you come to me? Not that I’m complaining.”

Hermione squirmed in her seat, knowing where this line of questioning was headed. “It’s because you’re a woman who does her homework. Isn’t it?”

She refused to answer. That didn’t stop him from continuing. “I’m certain you balked when you discovered the truth. I know you searched for a way around what you knew to be true, but there are so few of us left; so few who possess the purity you required. Fewer still are…,” here he smiled as if thinking of something funny, “suitably equipped. And fewer still lack the moral failures required to accept your rather generous offer. Tell me, why did you not choose Draco? He is at least your age.”

Lucius Malfoy knew all of this. They had discussed it the last time. The bastard just liked hearing her say it; all part of the joy he took in her humiliation. “Draco would have splashed it across the front page of The Daily Prophet as soon as it was done. If not before.”

“Yes, I did always have a difficult time teaching that one discretion. His loss I suppose.”

“I also wouldn't touch Draco if he were the last wizard on earth.” The venom in her voice was something she didn't even try to hide.

He looked at her for a long time, just studying her, and then gestured with his jeweled hand that she should drink her champagne. She lifted it to her lips obediently. “You still had other options, Miss Granger. Thus, I can only conclude that you do not find me so unpalatable as to require me to be the last available wizard on earth. Wouldn't you agree?”

“That is evidently the case.” Hermione bristled at having to answer such a question, which she knew was entirely the point.

“You know that you can leave at any time, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Lucius Malfoy had always made that point abundantly clear to her.

He nodded at her in satisfaction. “So then, since you could, in fact, go elsewhere for what you require, and you are free to leave when you choose, you must wish to be here, and as long as you are here, you will indulge me. If I was only interested in what's between your legs, I could make a call and hire someone with less trouble than you give me. If I wanted rote, inane answers to my questions, I would be having dinner with my wife.”

Lucius smiled at her, his charming smile doing nothing to hide the predatory gaze in his eyes, as he gestured at her once more, lifting his glass in a mock toast. “You, my dear, are here to engage my mind as well as my body. There are a number of reasons I agreed to this after all.”

For the rest of their meal, Hermione played the part of a polite dinner guest. She smiled though she couldn't quite bring herself to laugh at his witticisms. He didn't seem to mind all that much. It seemed that forcing her to go through the motions was amusing enough for him. She was much more animated during their discussions of the various topics that he found interesting, and a small traitorous voice inside couldn't help but make note that she never had dinners or even conversations of the sort with Ron.

Before she knew it, her main course was gone and they were both a little drunk and Lucius was holding out his hand whispering, “Come here,” his eyes slightly glassy; the product of equal parts champagne and lust. Hermione swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, placing her napkin gingerly on the table before she slowly made her way towards him. Once she was close enough, his hand shot out, and he pulled her into his lap, his hands settling on her waist.

Lucius pressed his lips to her throat, just below her ear as his hands began to move, mapping out the curves of her body, relearning the particular touches that made her skin tingle and her breath catch in her throat. He either had an amazing memory or he was an incredibly quick learner. His hands slid up her back and his fingers worked at the zipper on her dress, pulling the tab down so that he could tug her dress down off her shoulders. The scent of him clung heavily to her flesh, swirling around them as he bared her, and she could feel him smile in approval against her skin.

Once the fabric was pooled around her hips, his mouth left her throat moving dangerously close to her own. “I told you-”

He cut her off with a murmured, “I'm not going to kiss you. We have an arrangement and I will honor that.”

Lucius reached down and began rucking up her dress so that he could slip his hand between her thighs at the same time he began to trail wet kisses down her chest, his tongue snaking out to trace the swell of her breasts along the top of her lace bra. “I always knew you'd come back to me.”

“Please just-” She knew her voice was trembling, she could hear it, and she feared it was more from her growing arousal than anything else as his index finger pressed into her. He made a sound of appreciation and she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was pleased with what he had found. She had, of course, followed his instructions, ‘dressing appropriately’ as he had dictated. She wasn't wearing knickers. The garter belt provided easy access to all the parts of her that interested him, and she had abstained from sexual activity, even self-gratification, for an entire two weeks to please him. “-just cast the spell.”

Lucius ignored her plea, asking instead, “How is it possible he still doesn't know? I didn't think anyone was actually that stupid.”

“I'm careful. Please-”

He pulled back to look at her. “No, not that. If I had thought for a moment you couldn't maintain a suitable level of discretion, I would have turned you down flat.”

The confusion was evident on her face, but his next words, spoken even as he worked a second finger inside her, cleared up any question she had as to what he was referring to.

“That family breeds like vermin. Even had you given him solid proof, he probably wouldn't have believed it. Too prideful.”

No, he hadn't believed her. It was much easier for Ron to believe the problem was all hers, damaged as she was by Dolohov's curse, and she was, but Ron was impotent.

“But she doesn't even look anything like him. I know. I saw them leave the bookstore. You can claim that hair is red all you wish, but you know the truth...”

Hermione tried to push his hand away, to jump off his lap, and regain some dignity.

“If you're planning on-” she protested, alarmed by the implications in his innocuous remark.

He only held her more tightly as he interjected. “I have no interest in declaring a Malfoy half breed. I told you it amuses me to cut a branch off Arthur's tree and replace it with my own. And I have too few amusements these days to throw away such an excellent one.”

He loosened his hold on her even as his fingers continued to work inside her. “Your secret's safe with me. Now, don't you think it's time we moved this to the bed?”

Damn him. There he went again, putting the ball back in her court, making damned certain that she was not only present during their liaisons, but an active participant as well, and this just after insulting her husband's family all while he fingered her. But it was true that Rose didn't look anything like Ron, and her hair was certainly not red. It was a strange mix of brown and strawberry blonde, but it was close enough that those who wanted to see the color saw it. Hermione hoped she took after her physically, but at only two it was still so hard to tell. She could see Lucius in her every time she looked at her, just as she had seen him in Scorpius earlier that day.

Lucius was still waiting for her answer, no longer moving his fingers within her, but massaging her abdomen absently while he did so. She gave him a shaky nod, and at his stern look, added, “Yes, I've been looking forward to it all day.”

When he still didn't move, Hermione finally swallowed her pride and ran her hands up over his shoulders sensually. She nibbled on his neck and felt his hands tighten on her hips. Her voice dropped into a lower register as she firmly pushed away all thoughts of how terrible a person she was for cheating on Ron, and whispered in Lucius’ ear, “I've woken so many times wet, empty, and aching to be filled, your name a murmured cry on my lips.”

Her hand slipped inside his robe, and slid down his chest to cup the growing bulge between them. “I’ve touched myself, and imagined my hands were yours.”

Lucius shifted under her, his breath coming a little faster. She curled her tongue around his earlobe, hoping her next words would prove to be enough to spur him to action. “Sometimes, even now, I have to bite my lip when I come just to stop myself screaming your name instead of- instead of my husband's.”

Hermione didn't know if Lucius finally moved because he thought her sufficiently humiliated or if it was because he could hear the truth in her every whispered word, but he finally picked her up in his strong arms and carried her the short distance to the bed. He dropped her onto the mattress, and then made short work of her dress, leaving her reclined on top of the covers in nothing but her lingerie and staring up at him as he started on his robes.

It had been a little more than two years since she had last found herself in this position, and in that time she had forgotten many things. Now that she was back, she remembered what was forgotten, and she knew beyond doubt that it was this, rather than kneeling in a filthy alley, that made her feel like a dirty whore.

All too soon he was naked and not exactly hard, but he was getting there. Lucius joined her on the bed, lying on his side next to her, looking down at her as he caressed her skin with the tips of his fingers. She shuddered at his gentle, exploratory touch. Those fingers traced the scalloped edges of the lace on her bra, plucking at her hardening nipple through the thin material.

He smiled to himself above her and then asked almost dreamily, “How many do you think I should give you?”

He tweaked the stiff peak harder forcing her to suppress a moan.

“Shall I make you scream my name until your voice gives out?”

He dipped his head, biting at her earlobe as his hand roamed down her body.

“Shall I fuck you until you black out from the pleasure?”

Hermione whimpered beneath his touch, but didn't answer. There was no point. Lucius would do what he wanted to her regardless of how she answered.

His fingers dug into her backside as he pulled her close, rolling her over to straddle him as he settled onto his back. Hermione began to rock her hips against him, eager to move things along, and Lucius allowed it for a time as his mouth moved over her neck and her collarbones and the tops of her breasts; the closest he could get to kissing her. He was driving her so crazy with his touch she was half tempted to break her own rule, but she wouldn't. Cheating on Ron was bad enough. Choosing a man who held such contempt for her was even worse. She refused to cross that line into true intimacy with Lucius Malfoy of all people.

When she reached down between them to close her hand around his cock and guide it into her, Lucius pushed her away roughly, and then he was above her, pinning her hands above her head.

“No!” he growled in sudden anger. “I'm not finished playing yet.”

Then Lucius smiled at her, his voice growing soft and dangerous. “Would you like for your husband to know the truth?”

Hermione shook her head frantically. “No. Please,” she whispered.

“Then don't do that again. You're going to beg me to fuck you before I give you what you want.” Hermione nodded, resigning herself to her fate.

He released her, sitting back so that he could look down at her: a predator pleased with the prey in its grasp. “Now then, where to begin.”

His eyes roamed the expanse of her body, taking in every last detail as though storing it for later. She suddenly had the sinking suspicion that their encounters ended up in his pensieve for him to amuse himself with whenever he wanted.

“I was going to start with your first orgasm, but I think for your insolence, you're going to give me something new first.” The smile he gave her chilled her to the bone.

Before she could even protest, Hermione found herself manhandled once again, and then Lucius was sitting with his back against the head of the bed, and he was guiding her head down into his lap. His fingers were strong on her jaw, forcing her mouth open so that he could slip the head of his cock past her lips.

There wasn't anything new about her position, but she sucked his cock with enthusiasm anyway, and ignored the waves of shame coursing through her in favor of attending to her task. Hermione took him as deeply as she had earlier, rolling his lightly furred testicles between her fingers as she did so. She could hear his clear enjoyment in the noises he made, could feel his excitement in the way he caressed the back of her neck, and she hummed around the length of him filling her mouth.

Lucius reached beneath her, slipping his hand inside her bra so that he could fondle her breasts and pinch her nipples. She pressed herself against his hand, and he rewarded her for it by reaching farther down. He teased her as her head moved in his lap, making her squirm at his touch. It wasn't enough to make her come, though it was certainly enough to drive her to distraction. As he had told her, he wanted something first.

From the way his fingers curled into her hair, and the way his hand guided her head, she could easily guess what he wanted. Her eyes widened in surprise at the realization. When she looked up at him, he was staring down at her, his eyes half mast, expression relaxed with his arousal.

“This room has a fully-stocked potions bar. I won't send you home with evidence. You have my word.”

Lucius didn't move as he looked down at her. He didn't try to force her. He never did. It was always her choice to either leave or to accept his wishes.

Hermione licked her lips and returned to her task. She started slowly, working down the length of him in a methodical fashion. Even though she had done it for Ron a few times, and Lucius was of a similar size, he had a little more girth to him than Ron did. He was going to prove challenging no matter how much experience she had.

He released a breathy sigh that ended in a low moan. Clearly she was doing well. When his fingers began to tease between her thighs again, Hermione lost the ability to form a single coherent thought. Time became meaningless. It could have been two minutes or a lifetime, but when she came back to herself, he was as deep as she could take him, and he was cursing at her, attempting to push her away.

“For Merlin's sake! Come up for air you crazy witch!”

She drew in a ragged breath as soon as Lucius pulled her up by the hair. It took a moment to focus, the need thrumming throughout her body overwhelming.

Satisfying that need was the only thing on her mind when she begged unashamedly, “Please. I need to feel you inside me. I can't take it anymore.”

His eyes flicked over her face, gauging her sincerity perhaps, so she added in near desperation, “Please. Make love to me…”

The sharp inhalation was immediate.

Lucius nodded.

“Ride me.”

Hermione practically threw herself at him as she straddled his thighs, moving into position, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly for balance. Before she could impale herself in one go, Lucius halted her, his grip on her chin harsh as he forced her to meet his gaze.

“Do it slowly.”

She gave a frustrated groan. Slow was not what she needed right now.

He smirked at her before adding, “Unless you're actually looking for a repeat performance, and I wouldn't blame you if you did, you'll ride me slowly. A second round is highly unlikely tonight.”

It was only then that Hermione remembered that Lucius hadn't yet performed the spell. If he came now, the precious seed she had come for would be wasted. She nodded in understanding, reaching between them as she had tried to do before. This time she sank down onto him with greater care than she had originally intended.

She was tight enough that it took a moment to work the head in, but once it was inside, the rest of him followed easily. Hermione didn't stop until he was fully sheathed, his balls pressed against her. She allowed herself to settle, the breath she had been holding released slowly before she started to move.

He made a strangled, hitching noise in his throat, and she gentled her movements even further. The last thing she wanted was for him to blow his load at this point. Hermione stroked his chest, her eyes drifting closed in bliss as she rolled her hips against his. He grasped her waist, pulling her to him more forcefully to grind his pubic bone against her clit. The pleasure brought with it a sweet sharpness that caused stars to dance behind her eyelids.

Her climax was a slow, inevitable build. As it began to wash over her skin and race up her spine in a delicious tingle, Hermione swore she felt the brush of his lips on hers, a blatant violation of their established rules. When her eyes snapped open, his head was thrown back, his brow furrowed with the effort of holding off his own orgasm. Maybe it was imagined, she thought to herself, and then she could think no more. She tightened around him as she came, staring at the pulse point hammering wildly in his neck.

Without warning she found herself dumped off his lap onto the mattress and he was reaching for his wand on the nightstand.

“On your knees,” he ordered, manhandling her into position.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she hastily complied, gripping the top of the ornately carved headboard with shaking hands.

It was time.

Lucius moved into position behind her, pulling her thighs farther apart to provide better access. She had held out hope that he might slip up this time, but he hadn't. The fertility charms pure-blood families used were a closely guarded secret; one that he was clearly not giving up. Maybe he was bound to secrecy, but she thought it was simply to insure that she would have to come back to him if she wanted more.

She felt the tapping of his wand on her lower back, the wand movements hidden from her, but the words clear.

Pinguioris .” Hermione felt the magic flood throughout her reproductive system. It felt like a part of her had come to life or like a missing piece was suddenly put back where it belonged.

So focused was she on the sensations coursing through her that she almost missed Lucius’ counterpart charm.

Semen Potentior .”

His wand landed with a clatter on the nightstand, skidding off onto the floor. An instant later he gripped her hips tightly, and slammed inside, balls deep with a single, brutal thrust. The pace he set was hard and fast and nothing like their earlier coupling. She preferred it; preferred the humiliation of being used like a piece of meat, rather than the humiliation of being forced to pretend they were lovers.

His arm snaked around her, holding her close as he fucked her with wild abandon. His hair brushed against her shoulders like living silk. His balls slapped against her with every harsh thrust, and she could feel them begin to draw up between them as his climax neared.

In the scant few moments before he came, he stroked the pads of his fingers over her clit, and whispered in her ear, “If you've truly dreamed of this, then say my name.”

Lucius ,” she whispered back, tentative, as though she didn't want to admit to her indiscretions.

“You know how. Say it,” he hissed.

Another brutal thrust, and his fingers pressed harder.

“Ah, Lucius!” she wailed, loud enough to disturb the next room over if the walls weren't charmed. Her clenching muscles pulled his orgasm from him, and he buried himself deep, collapsing against her back with a groan.


The morning sun streamed through the windows as she finished dressing. She hadn't meant to spend the night, but had been too exhausted to move once they had finished. It had taken only moments for her to fall asleep nestled in Lucius’ arms.

Hermione stood to quietly make her way towards the door. When his sleepy, muffled voice called out to her, she realized her judicious escape had been a vain hope. He would never let her get away so easily.

“I thoroughly enjoyed our time together yesterday, Miss Granger. Should that meddlesome shrew you call a mother-in-law still remain unsatisfied, you know how to contact me.” She could hear the satisfied smile in his voice.

Hermione marched out the door, her head held high though she fought back her tears. Just a quick detour home to pull herself together before she joined her daughter and husband. She steadfastly refused to acknowledge the small part of her that was already considering contacting him again. She loved Ron, but there was some part of her that loved fucking Lucius too, and she couldn't think about that. Fucking Lucius to give Ron children was one thing. Fucking Lucius because she wanted to was something else entirely.


“No, Scorpius. I'm sorry, but I don't think I feel that way about you.” Rose hated his crestfallen look. Scorpius was a good guy, but there was just something about him she couldn't put her finger on.

“But how can you say that? You barely even look at me.”

“You know that isn't true. I don't look at you any more or any less than I look at Al. Besides," she continued, “I don't think our families would like it. I'm sure your parents don't like the fact that I'm a Weasley, and your grandfather creeps me out a bit. And you know how my dad feels about it.” She didn't mention her mum, because she had never said anything to her, but Rose had caught the looks her mum had thought she could keep hidden. Sometimes it looked like she was seeing ghosts.

“Grandad is just stuck in the past. He's not dangerous. And I don't give a toss what my parents think. I like you.”

“Oh, Scorpius…”

“Just one date. Just us. We don't tell any of our family, and then if you still feel the same way, I'll never bring it up again.”

Was the unease she felt simply because she knew how impossible it was for them? Was she really just afraid of disappointing her family?

“One date, then. We tell no one. Not even Albus.”

His eyes lit up, and Rose gave him a little smile. Scorpius really was a good guy; so different from his family. She pushed her fears to the back of her mind, especially that haunted look in her mother's eyes. Maybe they were simply ghosts from long before she was born. Ghosts like that shouldn't stop her from pursuing what she wanted now, and she refused to let them.