Sugar Quills

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this tale, and receive no proceeds from it. All borrowed courtesy of Ms. J.K. Rowling.


Hermione purposely dressed in a black silk pantsuit for her meeting with Lucius. She was positive that he would hate seeing her in pants. She wore a cream lace camisole under the severely cut jacket. After all she wanted to look good, just not too feminine. It would appeal to Lucius too much if she were to arrive all vamped up for the evening.

Surveying her appearance in the mirror with satisfaction, Hermione reached for her bag and the portkey. She felt that familiar pull at her navel. There she was in Malfoy Manor.

She looked around her elegant surroundings and did not spot Lucius. Then at her ear she heard, “Arrived safely, I see.” His low, smooth voice enveloped her. She felt fingers trace her spine and had to quell her response quickly.

Hermione pivoted to face Lucius. As she made to take a step back from him, she felt his strong hands draw her into an embrace. Her palms met his chest in protest. Ignoring, her less than warm reaction, Lucius bent his head to capture her lips. He bit into her bottom lip, and gained entry at her gasp.

One hand traveled from her back to her head. He held her firmly in place and kissed her for endless moments. He was so busy taking control that he almost did not realise her lack of response. Almost. Pulling away from her swollen lips, Lucius looked down at Hermione’s face. Something was definitely wrong. He could see it.

“Hermione,” Lucius gaze was sharp and assessing, “is something wrong? What was so urgent that you needed to see me this week?”

Hermione pushed away from Lucius. Barely able to control her body from responding to Lucius, she knew that some distance would help. She looked up at him. God! How handsome he was. Handsome as sin, some would say. His white gold hair gleamed softly in the candlelit room. His gray eyes were lit with curiosity. She was sure at some point she’d worn an identical expression. The need to know pressing itself against her, curiosity hungry and seeking answers until sated. He would push at her until he got answers as well. There would be no fobbing off Lucius.

“You’re different,” he stated. He circled her, “Yes. Definitely. Something is different. Something in you has changed.” His gaze wandered down.

“Of course, something has changed Lucius,” said Hermione angrily thinking of what he had done. “Did you expect me to just throw myself into your arms, when you tell me that to you I’m nothing but a whore!”

His eyes snapped to her face. “I never thought you were a whore. That unfortunate appellation is one of your own making. You assumed that is all I wanted from you. I simply lived up to your expectations.”

Taken aback, Hermione did not know how to respond. Did he mean that he cared for her? Did he have feelings for her? Merlin! How, could she determine what Lucius wanted, when other than sex, he was so fucking unreadable?

“All I expected from you was little consideration. I didn’t ask you for anything, did I Lucius? I didn’t demand your time. I didn’t say leave your wife. I didn’t even ask you to pretend to love me. Just to consider my feelings, and not to make me feel like yesterday’s trash.” Hermione bit her lip, not wanting to cry in front of him.

“Why didn’t you ask? I thought all you wanted was a good time? Isn’t that what you got? A memorable deflowering. Some hot fondling, and explosive sex. Isn’t that all you expected of me, a former deatheater? Isn’t that all you saw? My potential as a sexual partner? You’ve never once asked me a personal question. You’ve never shown any interest in ME!” He roared angrily, his index finger jabbing at himself.

His voice lowered to a menacing purr, anger and frustration poured out. “Do you know why? Because all you cared about was a good fuck. It didn’t occur to you that maybe I don’t do little girls. No, deatheaters are immoral shits, right? It didn’t occur to you that I wouldn’t want a mudblood for a lover. I should be glad that you deigned to cast your craven gaze up on me! You and your damned trio, thinking you had the rights to anything you wanted. But not to me! I am not for free!”

Lucius ran an agitated hand over his face and turned his back to Hermione. Abruptly he turned back, his hair whirled in a silken cloud around him. He strode to stand in front of her again. Her head was bowed, her hands cupping her face.

“I am not for free, Hermione,” he repeated, his tone low and full of dire warning. “If all you came here for was bit of sex, leave. Leave now.”

Hermione lifted her face. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Lucius…,” her voice broke.

His face hardened, “I don’t want your pity. You may as well take that with you too.”

“NO!” She continued in a more moderate tone, “No. Lucius, I didn’t think you wanted that type of interest. I thought you felt it would be an invasion of your privacy. I wanted you so much, that I didn’t want anything to jeopardize my chance of being with you.”

Her breath shuddered from her body, “I love you.”

“Ha!” he barked a short humorless laugh. “You love me. You don’t even know me. You love a figment of your imagination.”

Reaching for a riotous curl, he wound it around his fingers. His voice deepened, seeming to resonate within her, “When you love someone, truly love them, you know them. Their every expression. Their every movement. Their every desire. Their dreams, hopes, and aspirations become inexplicably entwined with your own. Because you desire nothing more than their happiness. In the middle of the day, they bring a smile to your face. They walk into a room, and your whole body responds. Your spirit responds. They are not the other half of you. But rather your complement. You have their respect, and they have yours. You trust them above all others, to cherish you, keep you safe, and to love you unreservedly.”

His eyes seemed to bore into hers. “Are you telling me this is how you feel? Think carefully before you answer. Do you love me, Hermione?”

Closing her eyes briefly, she shook her head once. Not in the way he spoke of, no. Hermione had never felt anything that powerful in her life. She wondered who it was that Lucius loved. At that moment she hated him for not loving her. She wanted to inspire all of that and more.

“Well,” his voice lightening, “that answers one question. Sit down, please. Why don’t you tell me what you need Hermione?” He lowered his length to a capacious sofa.

He had known just seeing her this evening, that being his mistress would not be enough. He wanted all of Hermione. Freely. He would always wonder if she truly cared for him, and it would drive him mad. It reminded him of some stupid muggle saying, of setting something free and it returning. He would have to wait, but would she return?

Hermione sat down, her hands twisted together. She moistened her lips, her pink tongue darting out. Lucius nearly groaned at the sight. He wanted to pounce on her. To take that sweet tongue into his own mouth, and fuck her senseless. He shifted to accommodate the tightening in his groin.

“Lucius,” she began her voice thin and high, “I’m pregnant.” She paused for a moment unable to believe that she had finally said the words. “I just wanted to tell you, since as the father you have a right to know. I’m keeping the baby. That is my decision, and if you disagree, well too bad.” She tried to sound firm, but it came out sounding like a petulant teenager.

A pale eyebrow arched, “Your decision? I have no say, I take it? Again, your prejudices are thinking for you. I would never suggest an abortificant. It is an anathema to purebloods. We may not welcome half-bloods, but we always take care of our own.”

Lucius’ mind was quickly moving. How could he salvage this situation? If she weren’t a mudblood, there would be no problem. Suddenly, his solution appeared. He knew exactly how defend his next move to his closed society.

“We’ll have to marry as soon as possible, of course.” Lucius wanted to close off her options. To hell with giving her choices. Her pregnancy changed everything. There was no way he would allow her to walk away from him now. Fuck it! She was his. It was not him to be noble. He didn’t understand where the urge came from in the first place. He’d be damned if he became soft because this little slip of a witch had him wanting things that were not for him. Love was something that belonged to the simple. People who had uncomplicated views of the world, and their place in it. Lucius would never have love. But he would have Hermione. It was as close as he would ever get.

Hermione was completely floored by Lucius’ statement. Marry. Lucius. Her mind was agog at the idea. Then she thought of how now she would have a chance to truly get to know him. Maybe, just maybe he would come to care for her. If he felt for her even half of what he did for this mystery woman, then maybe it would be enough. It would have to be enough.

“All right. When did you want to have the ceremony performed?” Hermione asked.

Lucius truly smiled for the first time that night. “Is tomorrow too soon.”

Hermione laughed, “Lucius, that’s impossible. I need at least a week. That’s how long it will take for my mother to recover.”

“Fine,” he waving his hand. “Whatever you want. First I have something for you. I’ll be just a moment.” He left the room and returned shortly with something in his hand.

“This was my mother’s. No, Narcissa never wore it.” His lips quirked into a little smile. Lucius slipped the heavy ring onto Hermione’s finger. It was a large emerald surrounded by diamonds. It was breathtaking.

“Lucius, it is gorgeous,” she whispered. She traced his jaw with her other hand, “Thank you. I don’t know what to say other than, I shall treasure it all of my life.”

Lucius leaned in to kiss her chastely. His tongue ran along the contour of her bottom lip before entering her mouth. At first the kiss was light, almost sweet. But the moment Hermione flicked her tongue against his, it changed. Lucius deepened the kiss with a ravenous sweep. He felt desire surging through him. He drew out his wand and murmured softly. They were now in an enormous bedroom. It seemed Lucius had a thing for four poster beds.

“I’ve missed you so much,” said Hermione. “I’ve dreamt of you making love to me. Touch me.”

Lucius was silent about his own dreams, but he did not hesitate to comply with Hermione’s demand. His hands quickly undid her jacket, revealing the lace camisole that clung lovingly to her breasts. He palmed her breasts and caressed her. He wanted to taste her now. Lucius pulled the camisole over her head and removed her brassiere. Thankful for front clasps, he sucked a nipple into his mouth. His hand massaged the other.

Hermione’s hormonally sensitive breasts responded swiftly. Heavens! He felt wonderful. Her pleasure bordered on pain.

Lucius could tell that tonight she would not be able to withstand a prolonged foreplay. Slipping his other hand down, he undid her pants. Removing himself to divest her of her clothing, Lucius flung his own off as well.

He crawled onto the bed, like a panther closing in on its prey. Hermione still wore her lace knickers. He licked her through them. The scent of her arousal was heavy in the air. He bit down on her through the material, his teeth rasped against the cloth. His fingers drew it down and threw it over his shoulder. She was bare, and open to him.

Placing his hands under her bottom, he lifted her towards him.

“Look at me Hermione,” he commanded.

Hermione licked suddenly dry lips, and looked down to Lucius' place between her legs.

“I’m going to eat you out, love. Do you like the feel of me down here?” He darted his tongue out in quick swipes. “I want you to watch me. Don’t close your eyes.”

Hermione saw Lucius’ own eyes close as he buried himself in her moist warmth. His tongue swept over every surface except her engorged nub. It was like a beacon, calling to him. But he was steadfast in ignoring it. When her hips began to buck, Lucius’s tongue made its way up her body, settling on her neck.

His cock drove into her, searing her to the core.

“Yesss…,” she hissed. Hermione needed so much tonight. “More Lucius, more!”

He kissed her deeply and began to move. Slowly and deeply. Every stroke a small death. She felt her orgasm nearing. Lucius’ movements increased until he was pounding into her. He reared up and pulled her legs over his shoulders. He stilled himself.

“You are mine, Hermione. I will share you with no others.” Holding her in a tighter grasp, punctuated his last statement with a forceful stroke. “Mine. Mine. Minemineminemine….” He fucked her hard, his grinding relentless. He poured himself into her as she screamed his name. She trembled and her vagina gripped him tightly as she came.

He gathered her to him, his arms possessive bands around her. “Mine,” he thought. And he would never let her know how he felt. It was too dangerous. Too risky. But for now, he was content.


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A.N.

I don't want this story to drag on forever. So, while this is a bit fluffy, I had to give them at least the opportunity to really get to know one another. Love the baby names! Thanks everyone. Your reviews are terrific. Now, I must return to my own children and pretend that they are the best singers and dancers in the world. My four and five year olds think that I need a Broadway show....at home! LOL!!