Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter. My stories are purely for entertainment value. I do not make profit out of them in any way.
Of all my followers, Lucius has got the most potential. I will put him under my wing to show him the power of leadership. There ...
I've discussed it with Lucius and his point of view is interesting. I think there is another way for me to survive if my back up plan ...
The others respect him, fear him. That's good, I can use that to my adventage.
He sat on a chair in the corner of the cell, cold and still a little confused. They had brought him here yesterday, blind folded and chained. A pitiful smile played around his lips. He knew perfectly well where he was; he'd been in the Ministry of Magic too often not to recognize it's sounds and composure. Either they underestimated him, or they were playing a mind game, not realizing that he was a master in that area himself.
He wasn't sure who 'they' were or what they wanted from him. He was glad to be here though. He wondered if the cold was due to the temperature of the room, or the fact that he'd been around Dementors for so long, it had become hard to acclimate his body.
She pressed her lips together for the fifteenth time that morning, while brushing her long hair. She was not looking forward to meeting him. The only reason she agreed to it in the first place, was because of the possible promotion that they had dangled in front of her, not to mention the respect it would earn her.
She looked in the mirror and sighed dramatically. Her friends had said she shouldn't worry. That things were different now.
But feelings didn't change so easily.
It had been little over two years since that horrible night she wanted to forget more than anything; no one let her though. Everywhere she went, people knew her name. But they all associated her with the heroïsm of Harry Potter. She wanted to prove she had talents of her own. That she was smart and worth the job she had been offered due to her reputation of being one of the trio.
Talking to the man she hated more than anyone living in this world, might help her gain the respect from her colleagues she so longed for.
She kept staring at herself, unable to physically make the decision she was bound to make soon. She told herself it would be different: He had been promised freedom if he cooperated, and for a man of his status, that would be worth enough to at least be civil towards her.
She smiled, imagining the look on his face when he would recognize her, and realized he had to work closely with a 'filthy mudblood.'
It gave her enough motivation to put down her brush and walk downstairs. It was time to face her nightmare.
She nodded at the man sitting on the chair. His head had rested to the wall when the door had opened, but he had quickly composed himself. She took a couple of steps towards him, wondering if she should shake his hand. But there was something about his posture that warned her not to step into his personal space. Instead, she sat down on the other chair and put her briefcase on the table between them.
"Good morning Mr. Malfoy. Thank you so much for meeting me today."
Lucius frowned. Technically, he had not agreed to meet with her, but he decided it would not be in his best interest to point that out. He just turned towards her and studied her face, knowing perfectly well that this would make her feel quite uncomfortable.
She had put her hair into a knot, probably to look older, but didn't wear any make-up to perfect the image. She looked back at him, swallowed and straightened her back. Blood rushed to her face as he kept watching her actions with interest, and nervously she opened up her briefcase to take out a stack of documents.
It surprised him how much pleasure it gave him to make her feel this way. He had thought that after all this time, he would be out of practise. A pitiful smile appeared around his lips as she took advantage of the distraction the papers in front of her gave her. She checked them and pushed them together, so they formed a neat pack, all the while avoiding his eyes.
"Would you be so kind as to sign these papers, sir? They say that you'll cooperate voluntarily, and that you will be free to stop giving us information at anytime, if you wish." Her eyes met his for a brief moment, but she quickly moved them away again, pushing another document towards him. "This one states that after you've cooperated and given us the information we need, you will be a free man once more, and we will wipe your public records clean."
She offered him a quill, but he didn't take it. She scoffed at herself for being the coward that she was. Had she not fought side by side Harry Potter against Lord Voldemort? Didn't she battle with a number of Death Eaters? Then why did it cost her so much courage to look back up in the cold grey eyes of the man sitting in front of her! Her thoughts gave her the spirit she needed, and this time her eyes lingered on his face. It shocked her to see how shallow his skin was. He looked exhausted and sick. He reminded her of the first time she had seen Sirius Black, all those years ago. A feeling of sorrow went through her. She quickly pushed it away. This man did not deserve her pity after all.
The anger that flushed upon his face made her realize that he had read her feelings nonetheless.
"And what, Miss Granger," he asked in a cold, aristocratic voice, "if you decide I did not cooperate enough? Where is my guarantee that I won't help the Ministry for nothing?"
"You never help the Ministry for nothing .." she started, but she realized how lame her answer was. He wasn't a child, she understood he needed more than the empty promise on the table. There was nothing she could say to ease his mind though.
"You have my word." It was obvious that he didn't think her word was worth much. "You will just have to trust me. After all, you've got inothing/i to lose." She knew she was pushing her luck with her last remark, but she couldn't resist pointing it out.
He looked into her big brown eyes, who where trying to convince him to sign the papers. Her words meant nothing to him, but she was right in stating that he had nothing to lose. Except for his freedom, and that was worth more to him than all the Galleons in the world.
"I am going to need your personal guarantee, Miss Granger," he said while squeezing his eyes. She seemed eager enough to give it to him, but he stopped her from agreeing at once.
"You will have to know what the consequences of breaking your promise to me would be." It delighted him to see her lose the colour in her face. She slowly shook her head.
"The unbreakable vow .."
A torturing smile crossed his face before he let her of the hook.
"No, I'm not going to lure you into that, however .." He leaned towards her. "What I am proposing is an act of loyalty. If you agree, I will trust you with my life until I've regained my freedom."
Hermione hardly dared ask. She swallowed, almost hypnotized by the grey eyes across the table.
"And if you don't?" She whispered softly.
He leaned back in his chair, the exact image of the arrogant man she knew when she was a child. "Then you will know my torture as if it is yours."
That evening, Hermione made herself a nice hot bath to relax and clear her mind. She had made the effort to create an atmosphere, by lighting candles and putting on classical music; Chopin always made her feel better after a long day. With closed eyes, her hand waved along the rhythm of the music. She could not forget what happened today though, no matter how hard she tried to block her thoughts, they kept going back to Lucius Malfoy and his proposition.
There had been no doubt in her mind when she refused him. It had sounded dangerous and most of all: She didn't trust him. She would have to be crazy to allow that man to put a curse on her!
"Why should I trust you, when you don't trust me!" she had exclaimed after hearing his proposal. A curious smile had played around his lips. "Because I always keep my word, unlike some ..."
His eyes pierced into hers and the intensity made her blush. Of course she had broken promises, everyone did! That didn't mean her promises were meaningless, she thought aggravated.
Without even answering him, she had gotten up and put the contracts back in her briefcase. She had expected him to stop her, but he had just looked at her with a superior look upon his smooth face. It had angered her beyond belief, but she had found a way to control herself. The last thing she wanted was that horrible man knowing he got to her! So she left his cell.
She had sat at her desk, going over her meeting and the longer she thought about it, the worse she felt. What would she have to tell her boss? Her colleagues would be proven right; their gossip about her not being special at all, and merely getting the job out of courtesy would not decrease. She loved her job. She didn't want to lose it, especially not thanks to him!
Hermione noticed some of her colleagues eyeing her. They would rather drop dead than talk to her. And she didn't want them to either, because she knew that it wouldn't be out of interest for her persona. Afterwards they would make fun of her behind her back. She had caught them doing it on numerous occasions, and it hurt her very deep every time she heard them making a joke on her expense. She was always friendly towards them and made sure not to act like a know-it-all, but they didn't warm up to her.
Ron had told her she would just have to ignore them or change jobs. It was easy for him to say though – his closest colleague was his brother George, and Ron had always been liked, while she had a past of having to fight for friends.
Ron. Could she look him in the eye after what happened? Then again, did she have anything to feel guilty about? Wasn't it just the way the curse was performed?
Her boss had called her to his office right after lunch. She had sat down in the chair in front of the desk, while her head was flooding with excuses why she had not been able to get Lucius Malfoy to sign the papers. She hated herself for it. She had never been one for excuses, she was someone who didn't stop until the problem was solved. So why was she acting so unlike herself today? Why couldn't she shake off the grey eyes that were haunting her thoughts ever since she left him behind?
Bor Norse thought of himself as a reasonable and understanding man. From the moment he had met the bright young woman sitting in front of him, he had faith in her qualities and that's why he had offered her this job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement six months ago. But there was no excuse to ignore the task he had given her, and he had to make it clear to her that if she wanted to keep her job, she'd better get started right this minute!
She had no idea how she got through the interrogation of Mr. Norse. She knew his anger was valid. It had cost her a lot of energy to listen to his tirade about how great a change she was given and how thousands of Wizards would have killed for her assignment. He wouldn't listen to her arguments about Malfoy's proposal, so in the end, she had promised him to do whatever it took to get the information the Ministry needed.
That was why by the end of the afternoon, Hermione Granger went down to Level 11 of the Ministry of Magic to visit Lucius Malfoy's cell for the second time that day. She bit her lower lip, feeling anxious and nervous, and wishing this day could be over already.
He knew she would come back. Young, ambitious Witches couldn't afford to neglect official orders if they wanted to keep an income. He had been lying on his small bed, imagining how angry she would be when she got back. Lucius was certain that she would be absolutely livid to be forced to tell him she had chanced her mind. He had entertained himself all afternoon with the different scenario's that were possible after she had closed the cell door behind her. Some of them would never happen, he knew, but nonetheless; it was quite pleasurable to imagine her soft naked body laying under his, while she was screaming his name in the heat of passion.
It had been too long since he had felt the softness of a woman, he thought with a hint of sorrow. Miss Granger was the first woman he had talked to for more than a minute since he went to Azkaban, and it clearly had an affect on his imagination. He liked the way she plucked her hair when she was nervous. He longed to pull the pins out of her knot and look down on her dark curly hair covering his white pillow. In his imagination, she smiled up at him with a satisfied smile, her cheeks still flushed from the peak they just climbed together.
The thought prickled his senses. He moaned, fantasizing that she would enter his cell while he was stroking the essence of his maleness. Naturally, she would be very shocked, he thought with a lustful smile, but she would be intrigued too! He pulled his experienced hand up and down his rock-hard member faster, as he imagined how she would kneel down on the floor in front of his bed, softly begging him to take her. With all the gentleness he would be able to find, he would pull up her skirt, and play with her soft, moist little button until she could bear no more. Then he would tear away her briefs and enter her sweet, pink orchid.
With a low groan, his warm seed squirted into his hand. It took him a moment to recollect his thoughts. He readjusted his robes; even though the fantasy had been good, he didn't really want to get caught with his pants down. She wasn't even the type he would usually pleasure. He liked aristocratic women, who were brought up with the same values as himself. That didn't mean he had never been with women like Hermione Granger before; women who were just as passionate inside as outside the bedroom, women who weren't afraid to share their thoughts, even if they were inappropriate. Women that smelled like roses.
He raises his eyebrow. Women who smelled like roses?
He didn't have time to wonder why he had registered such an unimportant detail about her, because the object of his lustful thoughts just opened the door. He had been right. If looks could kill, Narcissa would be a widow.
Hermione stepped inside, ready to strike back if the despicable blond man sitting on the bed would say a word to belittle her. But exactly like that morning, he just looked at her with the arrogance of someone who knew he would get his way. This angered her more than any words could have. She sat down at the table again, putting her briefcase in front of her. Folding her hands on the table, she turned her head towards Lucius Malfoy and told him what he wanted to hear.
"I have thought about your proposition, Mr. Malfoy, and I've come to the conclusion that I have no reason not to trust you while you are locked up in here." She paused for a moment when he smirked at her. Her voice was thick with hatred when she continued. "If you would be so kind to sign now?"
Lucius got up, but he didn't walk towards the table. He stretched his arm and put out his hand. He laughed softly at the confused look on her face. "You don't really think I will sign anything before you have submitted yourself to me, do you Miss Granger?"
She grinded her teeth, but she got up and walked towards him. She fought the urge to smack the grin of his face when he mocked her. "Good girl. Now give me your wand."
Hesitantly, she did what he asked. There were two Aurors outside, guarding the door, so he would be a fool if he tried anything, she thought. He gestured her to come closer. She could feel his warm breath on her face while she waited for him to perform the magic that would bind her to the man she didn't even want to share a drink with. She had never stood this close to him before. It surprised her to notice that his eyes weren't as cold as she had always thought. There was something burning behind them, something she couldn't put her finger on, but that made her curious.
He took her hand and put it on his chest, covering it with his own. She gasped softly. Her innocent reaction made his heart beat a little faster. He moistened his lips as he tried to push back the images the sound had triggered to surface. This was not the moment to fantasize about the sounds she would make when he would move his tongue over her love button and kiss the heated entrance to her passion.
It was hard to concentrate though when she looked up at him with those big brown eyes, aware that she was completely left to his mercy. He shook off his thoughts and mumbled the words of the spell that would bring him the safety he needed.
Their eyes locked and he could not resist leaning in to taste her soft pink lips.
She felt confused. The warmth of Malfoy's chest made her hand felt like it was burning. Her throat had gone dry, but she couldn't swallow. The whole thing made her feel a little dizzy; she needed to sit down, but she could not tear her eyes away. This must be part of the curse, she thought.
Then his face bent towards hers and to her surprise she let him kiss her. It felt nice, his lips on hers. His tongue licked her bottom lip and without thinking, she opened her mouth for him to enter. He didn't waste a second, his mouth locked with hers in a passion she never knew before. She moaned softly as he pulled her closer. She could feel the bulge under his robe and it didn't repulse her. To her own surprise, she felt her knees go soft as she answered his kiss. Her hands clung to him. She could clearly feel how the tingling moist between her legs was taking over all of her senses. The burning tension in her loins made her softly thrust her hips. She didn't care who he was any more, she didn't even care who she was herself. All she cared about was the way his hands moved over her longing body.
Hermione raised from the bath and got out to dry herself. It must have been the curse, she told herself. There was no way she could have been that attracted to Lucius Malfoy without it. It was unacceptable to think about what might have happened if he had not pulled away.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Thinking about that kiss had raised her pulse. Her full breasts were pleasantly tingling and her sensitive buttons showed themselves in all their pride.
Her fingers moved over the hard tops as she imagined it were Lucius's manly hands caressing her. She sighed softly. The continued throbbing in her lower parts made her left hand go south, while her other hand kept massaging her swollen breast. This felt so good.
She made herself stop. She refused to pleasure herself. Not while fantasizing about him!
It must be the curse. She shared his soul now. She was bound to care something about the man! But there was no excuse for her to do what she had been doing, she told herself.
With her back to the mirror, she continued drying her well-curved body.
He had told her his soul would only become active inside her if his safety was in danger, while he was still a prisoner. She had to make sure that would never happen! He had to stay locked up, far away.