Disclaimer:The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

Please note: This chapter has been altered slightly to conform to an M rating, without losing any important content. If you wish to read all the sexy (yet not entirely necessary) details, you may read the original version on Granger Enchanted. The link is in my profile. This is still an M version, so caution is advised for delicate readers.

After which Harry's nightmares are no longer of battle and death, but Lucius's white arse.


It took a few moments for Hermione's statement to sink through the layers of champagne, fine food, and post-coital euphoria surrounding Harry's brain. There was no way the potion should have worn off yet. Snape had told him it would last at least four hours, and it hadn't been two. But he recognized the signs—fever-bright eyes, flushed cheeks, accelerated breathing, and Lucius Malfoy's hand up her skirt.

He stood and pulled Hermione to her feet. "I need to get you out of here before you do something you'll regret."

Lucius stood with her, his arm sliding around her waist. "I'm not the only one that needs to go," she said, visibly shivering as Lucius' fingers splayed over her side, brushing the underside of her breast.

"Shit. Malfoy," Harry hissed at the younger Malfoy male who was seated on the other side of his father. "Help me get your father and Hermione out of here."

"Why?" Draco asked before he too recognized the potential danger in this situation. He echoed Harry's expletive.

The blond linked his arm with his father and pulled, while Harry tugged his bride by her arm. Together they were able to get them up the stairs and out of the ballroom. However, even with the two of them, they didn't have the strength necessary to pull the couple away from each other. It took all they had to wrangle the pair into the ladies' loo, which was the closest door.

On the way, they happened across Ron, and Harry asked him to fetch Snape. If there was anyone who could help Hermione, it was the Potions Master.

It only got worse when they got to the private room. Heedless of their audience, Lucius immediately turned to Hermione and caught her lips in a kiss that apparently involved sucking her entire face into his mouth. One hand covered her breast, kneading the lush orb that was trying to spill out of her dress in response, while the other grabbed a handful of fabric in the back and was drawing her skirt up.

To Harry's dismay, Hermione only encouraged him, clutching Lucius closer as she returned his kiss.

The older blond guided her backward as he kissed her until they reached the counter. He lifted her so she perched on the edge, his lips never leaving hers. With her skirt bunched up around her waist, he stepped between her legs while she wrapped one leg up around his hip to bring him closer.

Her hands sifted through the long strands of blond hair as Malfoy ground against her and dipped a hand beneath the neckline of her dress. Between kisses, he said, "I haven't been able to think of anything but your breasts for the past two hours, and I've been aroused since yesterday, you tease. Even with the Calming Draught."

"That is not something I ever wanted to know," Draco remarked, his eyes wide with horrified curiosity.

Harry nodded in agreement, feeling a bit dazed by the whole thing. He wanted to look away, really, but it was like watching a traffic accident or animals mating in the wild. It was gruesome, and arousing, and impossible not to stare. "Hermione is going to have to obliviate my memory of this, or I might not eat again."

"You and me both," the blond said, and Harry couldn't help but feel they'd shared a moment of mutual commiseration that mended years of House rivalries and petty schoolyard disputes.

Ron was returning from the loo when Draco and Harry passed, practically dragging Mr. Malfoy and Hermione behind them.

"Get Snape," Harry said—no ordered—as he shoved open the door to the witch's toilets. Ron was mighty tempted to ignore the demand and go back to his dinner. But there was something wrong. Lucius Malfoy, cool and aloof, had been pawing at Hermione. Like he'd suddenly taken a love potion or something.

Ron returned to the ballroom, glanced longingly at the half-eaten filet of beef and flakey pastry sitting at his place, and walked across to Snape's table.

Harry really had some nerve telling him what to do and just expecting him to comply. Especially after what his so-called best friend did.

At first, Ron hadn't thought anything of the fact that Harry escorted Hermione into the ballroom after the rest of the guests and other husbands had arrived. In fact, he probably wouldn't have realized the real reason for their late arrival if it hadn't been for Seamus.

He'd been standing with the other Gryffindors when the pair was announced and Lucius swept Hermione off to meet the stuffy bunch of wizards over in his corner of the room. Harry made his way to them, smiling widely as he greeted his schoolmates.

Seamus took one look at the beaming wizard and said, "Blimey, Harry. Looks like you got laid already."

When Harry turned Gryffindor red Ron knew Seamus had the right of it. He wanted to walk away, but for some reason it was like his feet had been hit with a sticking charm.

"Merlin, Harry," Dean said in a low voice, "couldn't you wait till after the reception?"

"Not really." Harry glanced at Ron before looking back at Dean, tugging at the high collar of his dress robes. "You'll see. The binding magic is kind of intense."

"So how was it, mate?" Seamus asked, nudging Ron in the ribs before adding, "I always thought she was a fine thing. I'll bet she was wild in the sack—the brainy ones usually are."

"No way I'm telling you lot. Have you met my wife? I don't want to end up a newt," Harry said with a laugh and a dramatic shudder.

Harry wouldn't say any more on the subject despite Dean's questions and Seamus' teasing, but those green eyes followed Hermione's progress around the room and nothing could wipe the stupid grin from his face.

For Hermione's sake, Ron was doing his best to be supportive and put on a brave front for the public and the press, but it was hard. Right now it was especially hard to watch his best friends act smitten while his own heart was breaking.

In the years he'd known her, Hermione Granger had gone from a bossy, bushy-haired little girl to a beautiful, though still bossy, woman. Somehow in that time, he stopped wanting to fight with the girl and started wanting to snog her. When he realized she fancied him too, he expected they'd end up together.

And for one brief moment, they were.

Their kiss during the final battle was like something from a storybook his mum would read him as a kid. It should have been the start of their happily-ever-after.

But then Fred died, and it didn't seem right for him to be happy when his family was so miserable. Then Ginny got sick, and it didn't seem right to be in love when his sister was dying and his best friend was grieving. And then the rest of the world got sick, or so it seemed, and there wasn't time to think about love and sex and marriage. He'd thought there would be time for that when things were back to normal.

The problem was he'd run out of time, and there was no such thing as normal.

He probably should have been happy to have that one fairytale moment to hold onto while he spent the next years married to his ugly cow of a future wife. But he couldn't help but resent Harry and Neville and even his own dad for getting the one thing in this world that he'd considered his.

Hermione used to be his, but today he'd given her away.

If it wasn't bad enough that he had to give up the woman of his dreams in exchange for a chubby, fifteen-year-old Hufflepuff, now he had to sit and watch how great his life could have been.

It was enough to turn the fancy meal to ash in his mouth and drive him from the ballroom for some air.

How could he sit there and watch these wizards fawning over the witch of his dreams? How could he overlook the way her hand circled his father's wrist every time she wrapped her lips around his fork? How could he not notice Kingsley play with her silky curls between sips of champagne? How could he avoid watching Neville offer her a bite of the baby chicken from their second course, teasing her with it before finally letting her take it? How could he pay no attention to that prat, Cormac, as he brushed a drop of wine from the corner of her mouth and sucked it into his own?

And how could he ignore the sexually-charged looks that passed between her and Harry as she hummed her enjoyment of the meal. They looked happy, and they were completely oblivious to the fact that it was making him miserable.

He knew their friendship would never be the same again.

And yet when Harry Potter said, "Levitate," Ron asked, "How high?"

Ron almost turned around fifteen times as he crossed the ballroom to get Snape, but in the end he did as Harry demanded.

That was just how the world worked. Harry was the hero. He killed the bad guy, got the girl, and lived happily-ever-after.

And the side-kick was kicked aside.

Her eyes opened and through a slit, Hermione saw Draco and Harry transfixed as Lucius teased her.

Behind them, Severus entered.

"What happened, Potter? The Calming Draught should have lasted for another two hours."

"Don't know. Hermione just told me she thought the draught was wearing off, and we got them out of there before they started going at it on the dinner table."

"This is only slightly less disturbing," the younger blond said. "It's like they've been dosed with a lust potion."

Severus approached the pair. Once he got closer, he drew one elegant finger down over her shoulder. Hermione turned to capture the digit with her mouth, whimpering when he pulled it away.

"Not a lust potion," Severus said, backing up. "If it was, she would only be interested in him or the first male to catch her attention."

"They don't make a general potion?"

"Merlin, Potter. Did you learn nothing during the years I was forced to endure you in my class? Lust potions are always specific. There are some potions that generally increase sexual arousal, but they don't have any of the other symptoms."

"What symptoms?" Draco asked.

"Well, neither has stripped naked yet."

"Thank Merlin for that. If I see Malfoy's lily-white arse, I'm definitely getting obliviated," Harry said.

"Do be serious for a moment," the Potions Master responded.

"I'm being deadly serious."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did they eat or drink anything odd?"

"I don't think so," Harry answered.

"The wine tasted a bit off," she said, panting and arching her back as Lucius latched onto a dark pink nipple.

"One of you two, stop gawking and bring me the wine goblet. I'm guessing it's a simple neutralizing potion, but I'd rather be sure."

"I'm not leaving her alone with him," Harry said.

"Bloody voyeur," Snape accused. "Are you planning to chaperone all of her conjugal relations?"

"Only the ones when she's being taken advantage of because someone slipped her something."

"Draco," Severus barked, "get me the bloody wine goblet before the elves clear the table."

Lucius appeared to be completely disregarding the other men in the room and now had the top of her dress completely unfastened and peeled down.

She leaned back so her head rested against the mirror.

"I knew you were a naughty witch," the enchanted mirror said, "and with the Master of the house no less."

"Shut up you bint, or you'll end up in the grottiest public loo I can find." She fisted Malfoy's hair and pulled his head back so she could kiss him again.

Draco returned with the half-finished glass of red wine and Severus passed his wand over the surface and then over the pair of them.

"You're not supposed to be using magic," she told the Potions Master between kisses, then she squealed as Malfoy bit her earlobe while slipping his fingers beneath the edge of her knickers.

"Perhaps you should pay attention to what you're doing and leave me—"

His advice was cut off by her moan as Lucius' fingers moved in her. In her ear, he whispered, "That's right, poppet. So tight. I can't wait to be inside you."

Her response was an inarticulate groan as his fingers pumped deeper, and his thumb brushed her sensitive center.

Severus waved his wand over the two of them again. "It is a neutralizing potion, as I predicted. It appears Lucius ingested ten times the dose as Miss Granger. Her system should be clear of the potion in a quarter hour, but Lucius will not be able to take more Calming Draught for at least two hours."

She caught Severus' free hand and brought it to her mouth for a kiss before pressing it to the mound of her breast. His long fingers flexed, pressing into her flesh before he jerked his hand away, ignoring her whimper of protest.

"It is best to let them satisfy the binding magic now. That will calm Lucius, and Miss Granger can take another dose of Calming Draught in about a half-hour." He took a vial of the light blue potion from his robes and set it beside the couple before retreating. "We should give them some privacy."

"I don't like it," Harry said. "She isn't in her right mind."

"She's as much in her right mind now as she was when she went off with you, Potter."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Harry returned.

Lucius grabbed the potion vial in his free hand and then wrapped that arm around her waist, saying, "Hold tight, poppet."

With a twirl and a crack, their location shifted from the ladies' lounge to an elegantly decorated bedroom, done in soothing taupe and cream. There was an enormous four-poster bed, settee, and two wingback chairs in front of a large fireplace.

Without the counter to support her weight, Lucius wasn't strong enough to hold her any longer. Before he lost his grip on her, he dropped to his knees right where they appeared—on a plush area rug in front of the fire. He laid her back, her dress still half on, but bunched around her waist leaving her long, slim legs—and what lay between—exposed to him.

She writhed in anticipation as he drew off her knickers.

For a moment, he stared at her. "Such a pretty pussy for a Mudblood."

Hermione leaned up, aggravated by the delay more than the slur. She wrapped her fist around his long blond hair and pulled his face to hers. "Quit teasing me, you great inbred arse, and fuck me, or I'll find another husband who will."

His lips crashed into hers, and he used his superior weight to press her back into the floor, settling his clothed form on top of her. "Oh, I'll fuck you all right, my little Mudblood. I'll fuck you so hard you'll feel it for a week."

She kissed him hard and then snagged his lip between her teeth, not breaking the skin, but it was enough to get his attention. Around his lip she said, "Stop calling me that. In fact, stop talking altogether, and fuck me." She arched into him and released his lip, scraping her teeth over the tender skin.

Lucius fumbled with the fastening on his trousers while taking her lips in a bruising kiss.

"You asked for it, poppet."

"Give me more," she ordered, panting.

He did as she asked and smirked when she groaned, but the pain quickly bloomed into pleasure.

He stilled as the little witch screamed in ecstasy, holding back his own end. He wanted to savor her for a little longer.

She was truly a thing of beauty, creamy white skin with pink accents in all of his favorite places. So young and tight. So wild and wanton.

She looked up at him with passion darkened eyes, a small satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"Ready for more, poppet?" he asked.

"Hmm," she agreed, quivering as he teased her. "More."

He paused, enjoying her whimper of protest. "Maybe if you ask nicely."

Her eyes narrowed. "Stop fucking around, and fuck me, Lucius."

So stubborn and fiery. She refused to bend, and there was a part of him that liked that about her. Who was he kidding? Denying her meant denying himself, and he wasn't one for self-sacrifice. There would be time to win this battle of wills later. For now he'd concede. "Close enough," he said before increasing his pace.

It felt like an eternity and yet too soon, she arched back, eyes closed, gasping as her second climax rolled over her. The pleasure was indescribable, and he was pulled along with her into bliss.

When his arms were shaking too badly to hold him, he collapsed beside her.

For the longest time, he lay next to his wife, heart racing, and breath shallow.

As his body recovered from the strenuous exercise, his mind regained some clarity. He was fairly certain Severus said someone slipped neutralizing potion in his glass. But who and why? Certainly it wasn't the witch lying on the rug beside him with her eyes closed, and her legs lewdly sprawled exactly where he'd left them.

But she was the only one who came anywhere near his glass except for the house-elf who brought it to him.

Maybe it was a simple practical joke. That one Weasley boy made a living at that sort of thing. But considering it could have brought his new bride just as much embarrassment—that didn't seem like a very amusing prank.

Maybe the wine was meant for someone else. The Minister might have a rival who would like to see him humiliated in public. He wouldn't put it past the press to orchestrate such a thing just for a juicy headline either.

Lucius wasn't sure how that potion ended up in his wine, but he was thankful they were able to get away from the party before they did anything too scandalous. His reputation could hardly handle it.

The witch shifted, tugging at her crumpled dress to cover herself. She rolled onto her side, facing him. "I was thinking—it's suspicious how that potion got in your glass. That could have been a disaster."

He turned his head to look at her, surprised her thoughts had gone in the same direction as his. "I agree. I can't determine how it happened or why."

"Do you have any enemies?" She laughed before he could respond, clearly deciding the answer was obvious. "I mean, do you have any enemies that wouldn't care about my reputation either?"

"There are a great many that dislike me either for betraying the Death Eaters or for being one in the first place, but there are few here tonight that had access to my drink and enough knowledge of the situation to know that I was on a Calming Draught. Lestrange would be one that jumps to mind."

"No way," she responded quickly, "I can't believe Mr. Lestrange would do that to me. Besides how would he sneak it into your cup without magic?"

"Do not be so naïve as to think Mr. Lestrange cares about your feelings, poppet. He was a loyal Death Eater for a reason. And as to how he did it, I can only assume he tricked or bribed a house-elf."

She shook her head. "I don't believe it. There has to be someone else that has the motive, or perhaps it was meant as a harmless prank."

He groaned as he sat up, fastening his trousers. It didn't feel so harmless to his aching body. "It could have been incredibly damaging. If Potter and Draco hadn't gotten us out of the room…"

She sat up too, pulling her wand to summon her lingerie. "Perhaps the person didn't realize how intense the situation was and just wanted to see you and I snog in front of the party. I could imagine a few who would think that was funny and a few others who would enjoy embarrassing me."

"For their sake, I hope I do not find that one of your imbecilic Gryffindor friends was behind this. I'd hate to have to curse someone you care for."

"Don't worry. There wouldn't anything left of them for you to curse after I finished." Her pretty brown eyes were narrowed with malice, and he quite believed she would carry out her threat. The idea of the world's Golden Girl plotting revenge was an intriguing one.

She wore a devilish smile for a moment before she shook her head and asked, "Is there somewhere that I can clean up? We ought to get back down to the party."

He got to his feet, knee joints creaking in protest, straightening his robes as he did. Once up, he offered his hand to the petite witch who was clutching her loosened bodice to her breasts. "Your quarters are this way." He led her across the room, through his sitting area to a set of tall double doors that opened onto a similar sitting area in the connecting suite, which was typically occupied by the mistress of Malfoy Manor.

For a moment, he couldn't form words when he saw the state of the sitting room. It was completely bare, devoid of all furnishings and ornaments. Even the wallpaper had been peeled off, leaving barren, scarred walls. The only things that remained were the light fixtures, probably because his evil cunt of an ex-wife couldn't figure out how to remove them. "That bitch," he muttered, pressing his clenched fist to his leg to keep from putting it through one of the nude walls.

His new bride did not comment as he turned in a circle to survey the damage. He opened the door into the bedroom and saw it had received similar treatment. The walk-in closet had been completely dismantled, though there was one lone hanger lying abandoned in the corner. The paper had been ripped from the bathroom walls as well, the mirror was missing above the sink and the shower was left without a curtain. It appeared that some effort had been made to pull up the imported Rosa Aurora marble tiles from the floor, but the act had been abandoned as futile after the removal of only one of the large, expensive squares.

Lucius walked back through the hollow, echoing rooms to find the girl standing where he'd left her. She was watching him with a sad, sympathetic look on her face.

He cleared his throat of the emotion that was pressing on him. Betrayal. While it was true that he and Narcissa had not been on the best of terms recently, they had been married for over two decades. He'd hoped they could at least remain cordial. Finally he said, "I apologize for the state of your rooms, Mrs. Malfoy. It appears that the former occupant removed more than I'd intended when she relocated. I'll get workers in here tomorrow to repair the damages and you can furnish it however you wish."

She stepped forward, one hand still holding up her dress, the other she set on his arm. "It'll be fine. From what I can see of the old wallpaper, it probably wasn't my taste anyway. I suppose this clears up the mystery of who spiked your drink."

"It certainly makes her the number one suspect. I apologize that you are caught in the middle of this feud."

"It's not your fault. I can't say I blame Narcissa either. If I were in her position, I'd be angry too. Though I hope I wouldn't be this petty."

"I should send her off to one of the smaller estates. She may be justified in her anger, but we should not have to bear the brunt of it. We did not choose this."

"No, don't send her away. It would upset Draco, and it wouldn't do your reputation any good."

He clenched his jaw, annoyed at the truth in her words. There was no doubt his ex-wife would publicly vilify him if he packed her off to one of his other, smaller houses. By keeping her here, he at least had the threat of throwing her out to hold over her head. His shoulders slumped with a sigh. Still he would have to have a conversation with Narcissa before the bitch of a witch got it into her head to damage any more of his property.

Hermione stood in the shower of the lavish Master bathroom, allowing the hot water to ease the aches after her romp with Lucius. He'd invited her to use his amenities since hers were in no fit state.

She was grateful for the chance to get some privacy to collect herself and her thoughts. It was awkward dealing with the aftermath of such an intimate event, especially when the sex had been so wild and uninhibited. Her actions and her words were shocking. It wasn't like her to be so wanton or demanding. Maybe it was just the effect of the binding magic. The drive to satisfy it seemed to grow more desperate the longer it was resisted.

But it was more than just that. She'd quite enjoyed the sex. The violence and passion seemed natural. She and Lucius didn't have a tender relationship. They had loathing barely restrained by courtesy and perhaps a physical attraction. For an older man, Lucius Malfoy was rather foxy.

And he knew how to use the gifts Merlin gave him. He drove her crazy with his lips and his hands and his other…manly parts. She had been desperate for him. Hell, she really didn't even mind when he called her that name as long as he didn't stop moving.

But even in her desperation, she wouldn't yield all of the power to him. She refused to beg. Evidently the binding magic didn't have the strength to make her.

In the end, she couldn't help but feel she held her ground against the blonde Death Eater in this latest skirmish. Though if he kept letting the M-word slip, she'd hex him inside out.

An elf had been called to help restore her gown, and once she'd finished in the shower, Totsy helped redress her hair. In no time she was ready to return to the party, except she was tired and a bit sore. Lucius had been rough, just as she'd asked, and she would be feeling it for some time, just as he'd predicted.

When she emerged from the bath, he was sitting in one of the wingback chairs in front of the fire and the shaggy, white carpet where only a brief time ago, they'd consummated their marriage with fervor.

"Do you have the Calming Draught?" she asked, startling him from his contemplations. He slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew the blue vial, handing it to her without comment.

"Thank you," she said, keeping her eyes on him as she drank the bitter potion straight from the bottle. He was staring into the fire blindly.

After the silence grew too uncomfortable for her to bear, she asked, "You don't happen to have a pain potion? You made good on your promise."

The corner of his mouth curled in an arrogant little smirk, but he reached out and brushed his hand over her arm in a soothing gesture. "I do apologize for losing control, poppet."

"I wasn't complaining. Besides, I was out of control right along with you."

"Yes, but your body isn't yet used to such things. I should have been mindful of that."

She shrugged. "If you've got a pain potion, all will be forgiven." He raised one perfectly manicured blond brow. "Well not all, but you know what I mean."

He smiled again and then called for Totsy to bring the potion. Immediately she felt better, though she could still use a nap.

Lucius got out of the chair, knee joints popping. It was her turn to smirk.

When he saw her expression, he grumbled, "Next time I'll ensure we make it to the bed."

She was giggling as he escorted her back to the ballroom.

A/N: Before you throw tomatoes because of Lucius saying the M-word, please give him time to get over being a bigoted Death Eater. It will be an isolated incident and he was a bit out of control (and he actually apologizes for it - in a subtle Slytherin way). I hope you all will stick with me as Lucius evolves into a more lovable guy.

Thank you for the lovely reviews! I really appreciate them all, and it motivates me to see that other people are enjoying this story. You can even tell me how much you hated Lucius in this chapter...as long as you promise to come back for more! Or you can tell me how hot you think Lucius is 'cause you like him a little nasty. Or you can tell me something else. I love to hear from you!

The version at Granger Enchanted is one chapter ahead, so if you can't wait, go over there to read ahead. I had someone say my last chapter seemed familiar - I'm guessing they read it already at GE. I promise you, this story is completely a product of my own imagination (as inspired by JKR of course).

Okay, time to end the epic A/N. Does anyone actually read these things? I doubt it, so time for something completely random-pumpernickle.

NEXT UP: Draco gets his turn...