Disclaimer:- I neither own nor earn anything from this story. Harry Potter and his world are the intellectual property of JK Rowling and associates.
A/N:- Thank you to my beta, Golden Asp, for her work on this one-shot. This story has been edited to comply with the M rating on . However, the MA original is available on AO3. I hope you enjoy reading this.
I hate these bloody reunions, Hermione Granger mused, her eyes taking in all her friends and year mates. They have one every sodding year. What's this, number nine or ten? I'm so sick of all these smug bastards. She feigned disinterest in her surroundings and swiped another drink from a passing tray.
The fact that all her peers had paired off bothered her intensely. Not because she had not yet found that wizard who she thought of as her equal, no, it was because they all felt sorry for her to a greater or lesser degree. No matter what she had achieved at Hogwarts, or the accolades she'd received at university, nor even mentioning her several years as a successful solicitor, they all measured her merely by her wizardless state.
She steeled her reserves of patience and watched another 'blissfully' happy couple approaching her. She shuffled her supply of ready answers to the same irritating questions that countered any inquiry on certain subjects, and her tolerance for it all dwindled further.
"Who did you come with tonight, Hermione?" Pansy Zabini née Parkinson simpered at her.
Here we go, Hermione sniffed. "I do not need an escort to find Malfoy Manor," she replied coolly, her eyes glittering slightly.
Pansy tittered. "Yes, well they do call you the brightest witch don't they?" She put on a perfect mock sympathetic expression. "But alas you just don't seem to be able to hold on to men, do you? Do you bore them to death with all the academia?" and she chuckled at her own little joke. Her husband, on the other hand, was more than willing to pull his wife away from taunting Hermione Granger, knowing well the witch's fiery reputation.
However, it was Hermione who ended up leaving. After sighing to herself, she counted to ten so she wouldn't strangle the pug-faced little cow, and said, "Well, I do not intend to rush anything. How long were you married before Roberto arrived, three months, wasn't it? Excuse me, please," the Gryffindor witch replied coolly. "I see Harry and Luna are about to leave." Smirking, she turned and stalked toward the departing couple.
This year's get-together was being held at Malfoy Manor, where Hermione's best friend Ginny and her husband, Draco—the prince of all things Slytherin—Malfoy were the evening's hosts, so, of course they were dutifully at the door with Harry Potter and his very pregnant wife when they were leaving. Hermione arrived just in time to hear Harry say, "We're sorry to leave so early, but Luna's not up to any more at the moment."
"Think nothing of it, Potter, we all know how tired pregnant witches get," and he patted Ginny's rounded stomach.
Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes. Surely our whole world has not narrowed to this? What happens if you don't want this? Give me sex, sure, good sex… great sex. But this? She cleared her throat and said goodnight to her friends. And since when were you an authority on great sex, Granger? You've never had great sex, she scolded herself as she found another glass of champagne.
As the evening wore on, it continued to be a never-ending parade of baby photos, pregnant bellies and general marital bliss, and it was finally threatening to turn Hermione's stomach. "Merlin, give me strength, I need a pee and a fag," she muttered, downing the last of her current drink and making her way towards the powder room. She accomplished going to the loo in blessed silence, but as she was washing her hands more annoyance arrived in the forms of Hannah Longbottom and Susan Weasley.
"Oh, 'Mione," Hannah gushed sympathetically. "I was just saying to Susan, it's such a pity we can't think of a man for you," and they both shook their heads plaintively.
That was it, Hermione had had enough. "The day I need two Hufflepuffs to find me a man, is the day hell will freeze over. Please, excuse me," and with that the chestnut-haired witch, stalked out the door. However, hearing more of her well-meaning, but totally out-of-line friends coming, she turned back from the ballroom and snuck out onto the terrace.
The darkness enveloped her, and sighing audibly, Hermione felt the tensions of the evening ebb away as the sweet summer breeze wafted in from the west and caressed her face. She became aware that she could smell expensive cigarette tobacco, but relaxed when she couldn't see anyone else. Clicking forward on her stylish stilettos, Hermione moved to the far side of the paved area and gratefully disappeared into the shadows.
On the other side of a concealment charm, the actual lord of the manor stood, resting against the opposite piece of stone balustrade from the one the petite witch was approaching. Exhaling a graceful plume of smoke, his lips quirked at the corner as his eyes drank in the sway of the hips and buttocks of the shapely witch on the opposite side of his haven. She had her back to him, and he saw her stop at the edge, as she appeared to breathe in deeply.
Lucius sauntered closer, his eyes raking over her form. Her curve hugging dress finished mid-thigh, and the economy of material in the garment allowed him to see her every contour - and what contours they were. The black silk cocktail dress was stylish and in a way modest, but the curves of the witch who wore it made it impossibly sexy. His eyes panned down further, over slim, shapely thighs, exquisitely graceful ankles, and then came to rest on something that instantly made his trousers too tight.
Her classy black stilettos had impossibly high, thin silver heels, and coiled around the top of each heel shaft and extending up onto the shoe proper were silver metallic snakes. The light spilling out of the house was only dim but he was certain he could see green jewelled eyes on the snakes seductively hugging her footwear.
Lucius wondered if she knew he was watching, because she parted her legs slightly all but inviting his eyes to pan up her legs once more. On this perusal his eyes came to rest at the junction of her thighs. What a delectable morsel you are, my pet. Surely some wizard will come looking for you any minute now, he pondered, taking another calming drag on his cigarette.
Picking up the crystal tumbler containing the remnants of his Firewhisky, Lucius swallowed the last mouthful and watched the obviously frustrated witch continue to try and breathe herself to calm. Her straight chestnut hair was secured in an elegant chignon at the base of her neck, and what a neck. It was swanlike and he instantly longed to lick it. Cocking a pale eyebrow, Lucius wondered that she still hadn't been drawn into the ballroom again by some attentive escort.
He watched her back stiffen and heard her inhale deeply once more, and a just audible drawn out moan reached his ears. She must be able to smell this, he glanced at the cigarette, and then looked up in time to watch as she rifled through her little black evening bag. "Damn, I've run out," he heard, "typical of this bloody awful night," and he could have sworn he saw sparks fly off the heel of her shoe as she stamped her foot in obvious frustration.
Well boys, all bets are off. I'm not leaving this lady in need. Fuck who ever claims her, if they're this negligent they do not deserve her. There's no way I'd let such a fine witch languish alone on a terrace if she were mine. Slipping quietly through his privacy screen, he walked with purpose towards the witch on the other side. As he closed the distance he realised he knew her. Ah, this is perfect, I've wanted you for longer than I care to remember, my lovely. Though I wonder if I'm about to be soundly hexed? Well, I won't find out unless I venture into no-man's land.
Hermione stood inhaling the rich aroma of the decadent Muggle smokes. Oh those cigarettes smell amazing. Damn me for not buying some more before I came. Then she heard approaching footsteps. Mmm, definitely male… I wonder who it is.
Trying not to be surprised, Hermione smiled slightly when a very expensive looking packet of black coloured cigarettes arrived beside her. "Would you care for one?" an aristocratic voice drawled smoothly.
Trying not to react to the delicious shiver that traversed her spine and lodged in her stomach, she took one without looking around at her companion. "Thank you," she replied quietly, and placed it between her lips. Lucius conjured a long matchstick which arrived already aflame, and she lit the offered treasure. Inhaling deeply, a small relaxed sigh left her lips, which made the wizard behind her snicker gently.
"I needed that," she purred, blowing the still burning match out with her exhaled smoke.
"Indeed," her attendant crooned, vanishing the remains of the match with a hand movement.
She could all but hear the smirk in his voice. Hermione was certain she knew who was behind her, and she had wanted to get to know him better for some time. Perhaps venturing out onto the terrace to escape drowning in the marital bliss of her friends was about to save the night.
"Is there anything else I could interest you in?" His tone was so smooth it sent more shivers scrambling around inside her.
"I don't know, Mr. Malfoy. There are several things I would like at the moment."
"How intriguing," he purred, his voice was very close to her ear. She could feel the heat of his body behind her, and it was taking all of her control not to simply step back and connect with him.
Hermione smirked in return. "Of course, your ability to fulfil these needs may hinge on your reaction to the realisation of who I am." She paused meaningfully. "Unless you are as intelligent as I think you are, and you've already deduced that." She felt rather than heard him take a step closer, still without touching her.
The heat pouring off him caressed her back delightfully and her nose filled with his fine fragrance, something woody and sensual, and it all made her head spin slightly.
"It's only fair then, Ms. Granger… that I return the favour, and name you correctly." Hermione felt his knuckles ghost up her spine. "The past is the past. The wizard I was no longer exists, hasn't for many years. I am a pure-blood, you are a Muggle-born, but it makes no difference one way or the other, as I suspect we are both refined seekers of pleasure, and that makes us equal, does it not… Hermione?"
"Well said, Lucius," and she took the last step back so their bodies were touching. Hermione heard a deep chuckle as she felt his hands come to rest on her hips, and his thumbs start to caress delicious circles on her stomach.
Lucius chuckled again, but closer to her ear this time. "So, what are the itches you wish scratched, my pet?"
Shivering delightfully, Hermione thought for a moment. "What I desire most right at this moment is decent conversation, good music, whisky, and later perhaps… something more. Let us see how the first three go, shall we?"
He dropped a single kiss onto the junction of her shoulder and neck and guiding her around, offering her his arm. "Indeed, my pet. Come, I know a place where I can guarantee stimulating conversation on most topics you would care to name. The favoured music tonight is Elgar, his delightful cello concerto to be precise, and the Firewhisky is twenty five years old and oak matured."
Hermione brought her free hand up to cover her mouth in a show of mock disbelief as her eyes sparkled playfully. "Surely you jest, Lucius, that all sounds far too good to be true, especially considering the trite and moronic domestic ramblings that have so garnered my ire right next door to this apparent sanctuary of delight."
She saw him purse his lips, a smile tugging at the corner. "I assure you it is all very possible. My sanctuary, as you aptly name it, is completely private and separated from the hackneyed discussions of pregnancy and toddlers taking place in the ballroom." He shivered in revulsion, remembering similar conversations when Draco had been a baby. "Come… stimulation awaits you." Lucius' quick-silver eyes saw the slight twitch of amusement on her lips at his double entendre, and they passed through the concealment charm.
Hermione's senses were enveloped, and she heard what sounded like the Dvorak Cello Concerto playing at the moment. Hermione audibly sighed in pleasure. "Oh, I love this bit, it sounds like the cello is stretching for something just out of reach, then the flutes and the tutti," she sighed again. "Beautiful."
Lucius expanded his seat in front of the rather impressive, obviously Muggle stereo, so they could both enjoy the music. He sat her down carefully, saying, "Indeed, as are you," and kissed her hand as he released it. "I'll get you a drink."
Hermione watched him move gracefully across the room. He wandlessly summoned his glass from the terrace and refilled it before preparing a similar one for her. It didn't surprise Hermione that Lucius Malfoy had Muggle technology in his home, or that he smoked expensive Muggle cigarettes. She was certain that his world was a synthesis of the best of everything, and always had been, regardless of any sinister pure-blood fanatic wizards who had once lived in his house.
After he had arranged everything, Lucius sat down beside her, and not a moment later a white Burmese cat leapt up between them and eyed Hermione dubiously. "Shoo, Prudence, go and play with Rasputin; you'll get white hair all over Hermione's lovely dress," Lucius scolded.
The sleek cat with the lilac eyes gave her master a haughty look, but obediently leapt back down. The music continued, but Hermione found herself much more intrigued with the wizard next to her as she considered that she had never seen him looking so relaxed. He was wearing black dress trousers, a crisp white shirt, a black silk cravat and a buttoned waist coat, the front of which was Slytherin green, silk brocade. His beautiful hair didn't look as long as she remembered it, and was neatly gathered in a by a black velvet ribbon at the nape of his neck.
Hermione angled herself so she was more or less facing him, and he sat with his back in the opposite corner of the lounge, his arm resting along the back of the seat and his outside ankle crossed casually over the opposite knee. "I must confess to being astounded that I haven't been called to duel over stealing you away," he confessed, after watching her scrutinizing him.
Hermione snorted inelegantly. "And you won't be either. There is not one wizard in the entire ballroom who I couldn't out duel, and then eat for breakfast," she stated plainly, her lip curled in something akin to disgust. "They are all pussy whipped, there's not a true man amongst them."
It was Lucius' turn to snort, and he narrowly avoided inhaling his whisky as he did. "What wonderful turns of phrase. I can imagine what it means. You don't have a very high opinion of your peers."
She merely curled her lip into a sneer and shrugged, before turning her attention back to the Dvorak, which was now almost finished.
Lucius waited for the music to end before he spoke again. "I can't say that surprises me greatly, you were always far better than any of them." He watched her regard him coolly following this comment. She was indeed very beautiful; she had grown into her looks and she was now truly stylish, but it quickly became obvious to Lucius that mere compliments were not enough to win this witch.
In fact, he noted that his comment had lost him her regards, and even as they spoke her eyes had started scanning the titles in the bookcases. He had to do something about that, as he wanted her attention solely on him. His index finger quietly slipped over the edge of the lounge and caressed her arm, and he was pleased when her whisky-coloured eyes quietly came back to him. "You need a wizard who's your equal, and I quite agree, you will not find one in the company next door." Lucius was rewarded by seeing her mouth tighten, and he wondered how long it would be before her curiosity got the better of her.
They both sat still for the exquisite solo opening of the Elgar concerto, and then they waited for it to settle into its melancholy theme before speaking again. Both noticed that the other knew exactly where the soft parts of the work were so they could start to converse again.
"Do you know of such a wizard, Lucius?" she challenged, calmly.
Her quiet question made his lips twitch into a small smile. "Indeed I do, pet."
Hermione cocked an eyebrow and placed her drink on the side table. Leaning forward, she trailed her finger-tips up the trousered leg crossed over his other knee. "Then I wish you would introduce him to me."
His eyes glittered liquid mercury in the candlelight, and she felt like they burned right into her very soul. Without shifting his eyes from hers, he smiled slightly, picked up her hand and kissed the palm.
"In my time, pet," he smoothed sensuously.
Why you arrogant son of a bi… oohhhhh, her thoughts dissolved into an internal moan, when the very tip of his obviously talented tongue flicked out, tracing the lines of her palm. A lick of fire shot straight to the apex of her thighs when the same organ dove pointedly in and out of the junction of her third and fourth fingers repeatedly, while his eyes watched his action reducing her to a mere puddle of molten desire.
Seeing his smirk at the effect he was having was lost on her now hazy brain. The only thing running through her head at this moment was her ardent desire to open her legs and show him the results of his efforts, and then demand that tongue where she wanted it most. The fact that she knew that wouldn't work with this wizard sent another gush of wetness trickling deliciously from her knickerless, throbbing pussy.
Yes, this wizard was a match for Hermione Granger; his arrogance knew no bounds. He was capable of treating her as an equal, and he would never be intimidated by her. The music swelled in the background as Hermione answered the siren's call of his eyes, beckoning her forward.
"Come," he smoothed, their eyes still locked together. Hermione rose from her seat and in one step found herself straddling his lap. "Release your hair," he commanded.
Lifting both her arms to her hair, Hermione removed the clip and slowly shook it out, allowing it to cascade down over her shoulders. She utterly adored her Muggle cousin, Rachel, who had shown her how to straighten her formerly wild mane sans magic.
Lucius took advantage of the openness of her curves and ran his hands lightly up her thighs, around her waist, over the swell of her breasts and around her back to support her, pulling her closer. His hands kept caressing her while his lips explored the column of her throat, and then rose to plant a row of kisses along her jaw, finally reaching her mouth.
He kissed her breathless and worked his way around to her other ear. "You naughty little minx," his heated breath whispered. "You're not wearing underwear."
She giggled seductively, undulating slightly on his lap. "Well, what are you going to do about it?" she challenged in a breathy voice, throwing her head back and pushing herself firmly onto the hardness she could feel in his trousers. The fact that she never wore knickers to these events was her little secret. Something no one knew about her and it made her feel wonderful. It was something unknown, something she held over the lot of them.
Lucius didn't disappoint her. "Divesto," he whispered, and her dress slithered off and placed itself neatly over the arm on the lounge she was no longer occupying.
The rush of cool air against her skin made Hermione prickle and shiver in excitement.
Lucius held her away from his body. He opened his knees, forcing her slender legs further apart and his grey eyes perused her naked body heatedly. The effect was made even more desirable by the presence of her black silk lace-top stockings and those delicious stilettos.
He chuckled wickedly. "I was right, you are exquisite." His long fingers followed the line of his eyes, until both came to a stop at the apex of her thighs and his index finger slipped in.
Hissing a breath in pleasure, Hermione's hands skimmed down his vest to his crotch to touch him, but his other hand deftly captured them. "No," he admonished. "I will discover you without interruption."
His hand never stopped moving on her, but his eyes warned her that he was not in jest - they would do this his way. She challenged him until that same finger left his thumb to the rhythm he'd established and it sought new pleasure zones, and he quirked an eyebrow on hearing her shuddering moan of delight, before chuckling when her eyes flickered shut.
"See," his smooth drawl crooned as she gave in completely and her head fell back, broken words falling from her lips as her body tightened towards completion. "This is exactly what you need, my pet. I will make your body sing, come for me, angel." His head lowered to one taunt rosy nipple and he bit down lightly, pulling the already hard nub of flesh until it was taunt.
Hermione groaned deeply and he did the same to the other, using the last of the music to punctuate his efforts. As the climax of the concerto enveloped them, Hermione's tightly strung body finally released completely. Her sob of joy was drowned out by the tumultuous final notes of the concerto. It was the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced; lights flickered in front of her eyes, her toes curled, and every muscle tensed.
She collapsed, boneless against his shoulder, panting. He gave her a moment to recover and then lifted her chin. His lips met hers firm and confidently, and then he told her, "None of those fools," he tilted his head in the direction of the ballroom, "could make you feel what I have just made you feel, and this is only the beginning, come."
The only response he received was a sated sigh, and Lucius chuckled; he had Hermione Granger's measure. People were always disappointing her, not coming up to her standards and he knew he just had, and at this moment Lucius realised that he wanted to keep this woman, to keep pleasing her.
Looking down at her curled against him, something within him shifted. Lifting her and moving one leg he deftly conveyed her to his bedroom, and a careful hand moment saw a new piece of music start as he walked. He was in the mood for concertos tonight, and he chose the Rachmaninoff third to accompany his claiming of Hermione Granger. With this in mind he directed the speakers to the bedroom instead of the lounge and strode towards his bed chamber.
Hermione roused a little from her blissful stupor when she was placed on decadent satin but Lucius hushed her. Shedding his shirt and waistcoat, he climbed onto the bed and held himself over her. "Quiet, my precious girl," he crooned leaning close to her ear, before his lips drew the bejewelled lobe into his mouth momentarily.
His tongue found that sensitive patch just behind her ear, and he murmured, "You long for wild abandoned passion, and no one has ever given it to you."
She answered him wordlessly by arching her body up to meet his, hissing in pleasure when her sensitized nipples contacted the bare skin of his flat chest and she rubbed them seductively on the expanse of smoothness.
His mouth had worked its way around to her jaw. "You long to have a man, not a boy pretending he's worthy. Your flesh is crying out to be sated, and it never has been." With this sentence his hand had slipped over her stomach and back towards his goal. "Allow me to be that man, I will make you forget all others," and to punctuate this he easily glided his two middle fingers into her again and started slowly working them in and out.
Hermione was lost at that moment. Nobody had ever taken the time to tell her what she wanted before, and no one had ever delivered it. She was used to lack-lustre orgasms usually by her own hand once the rutting had finished. The pleasure starting to hum through her system at the moment told her that this wizard knew how to please her. He was ignoring his own pleasure to adore her, and she tried to make her mouth work to encourage him, but all that came out was an inarticulate noise.
Lucius snickered hearing her attempt at speaking, he knew she was close to coming completely undone, and just by her reactions he could tell that she had never been taken to that special place before. "Shhh, pet. Don't speak, just feel. Let go and allow me to guide you."
His fingers kept up their slow pace moving in and out, and he slid down so he was resting between her legs. "Beautiful," he whispered, and kissed from the top of the stocking up the inside of her thigh as he removed on shoe, which hit the floor with a thud.
He was claiming this witch so she would never look at another wizard without thinking of that wizard as inferior, and that meant showing her what her body was capable of before he took her completely.
Lucius heard her whimper above him as he deftly removed the other shoe. Once he had kissed back up to the same spot, he chuckled darkly. "Patience, angel." and using his other hand he opened her up to his eyes and blew softly on the glistening rosy flesh to punctuate his words, watching intently as her muscles tightened around his plunging digits.
The deep moan he heard above him told him it was time to take her to the next level, and Lucius placed a firm hand on her stomach to keep her in place as he replaced his questing fingers with his tongue.
Hermione was left scrambling for purchase, her hands fisted into the satin quilt, and her stockinged feet were useless on the slippery fabric. She couldn't even twist her body to gain more friction. She was totally at the mercy of Lucius Malfoy, and he was currently doing what he'd told her he would. From somewhere deep inside of her she felt warmth rising; it started in the middle of her stomach and radiated out into a deep ache, yearning to be sated.
It was more urgent than any previous sensation she had ever felt, even the orgasm she had experienced not half an hour before. This sensation built with a relentless need to come to a resolution, the ache continued to tighten and it promised something special as it did.
Pants and whimpers were all she could manage to express the urgency she felt, but Lucius responded, shifting his fingers back to their previous position, and they almost instantly found that special spot inside her.
It was too much, groaning deeply she flew apart, her world reducing to splinters of coloured light as she squealed and panted in rapture. Her eyes were useless and all her ears could discern was murmured words of praise between her own shrieks of pleasure.
She vaguely felt the bed dip as he got off to remove his trousers, but she couldn't move, couldn't speak; the pleasure coursing through her was still too intense. When she felt the bed dip a second time, she tried to focus on him. He was holding himself over her, watching her.
"Happy?" he asked. A smile was all she managed, and his head lowered to kiss her. "You are exquisite, Hermione, and now I intend to make you mine," he told her between kisses. "Would you like that?"
This time she had to get her mouth to work, it was imperative. "Yes," she managed. "I'm yours, no one else has ever made me feel…" but she was so emotional that her lip quivered.
"Hush, darling one. I know," and he thrust up into her compliant body, making her over sensitized flesh soar back into life at the feel of his rigid shaft stretching her.
Broken words and jumbled phrases were all she could muster as her body completely gave in to Lucius. The stroke of his member buried deep inside her made her world condense to the point where they were joined. Her taste on his lips and the silvered words slipping off his tongue came together in a release that truly melted her soul.
Lucius guided her through it until the squeezing of her internal walls became too much and with a shout he followed her and collapsed onto her, pleasantly exhausted.
She welcomed his weigh pressing her into the mattress, and when he finally managed to shift himself to the side and roll her into his arms. He mumbled, "You are now mine, witch," and he lifted her head off his chest to kiss her.
"I am yours, Lucius," she muttered and fell into a sated sleep.
The following year, the class of 1998 reunion was also held at Malfoy Manor, but this time the grand ballroom was decked out in proper Malfoy style, and the event was formal. The belle of the ball was most definitely Madam Hermione Malfoy, as she slunk around the room on her proud husband's arm.
Lucius reflected as his grey eyes pursued the room that there was nothing like a formal affair to separate the swine from the pearls. The Malfoys were by far the most stunning couple there, and despite the age difference, Hermione did not look out of place on Lucius' arm, in fact they seemed to complement each other.
Tonight was a double celebration; Hermione had finally found the partner of her dreams and soon after they returned from their honeymoon she had been promoted to Head of Magical Law Enforcement when her boss retired.
As the evening progressed this time, Hermione found that she no longer hated reunions, because she had caught the wizarding world's most eligible divorcee and now the rest of the witches in the room were green with envy.
Notes:- For those interested in the musical examples I have used here. They are -
Dvorak - Cello Concerto in B minor Op. 104
Elgar - Cello Concerto in E minor Op. 85
Rachmaninoff – Piano Concerto No. 3 Op 30
Thank you for reading.