Daughter of Leda

He waited only long enough to reassure himself that she meant her words before crushing her lips with his own, working the shirt off her before starting on his own clothing. He wanted to see and feel every inch of her, and hoped she would want and act on the same desire. Lucius wanted her as badly as he had wanted any woman, and there was something more which he quickly pushed out of his mind to deal with later.

For now he was determined to show her how good it could feel to be with a man. To show her how much of a goddess she was to him. He had decided that she would be his, and though he hadn’t quite figured out how to make that a permanent arrangement, he didn’t want there to be any doubt in her mind that she wanted only him.

He firmly caressed her soft skin as he trailed hungry kisses down the side of her neck. When he extracted a few more moans from her Lucius moved them to the bed. Hermione was exploring him even as she lay so deceptively submissive below him. Her touch felt so good, but finally he moved her hands above her and whispered in her ear.

“Not just yet, lioness. This moment is for you.”

Her hands remained above her head but at the sound of his voice her body arched up against him, causing him to groan and take a moment to calm himself. She affected him far too much to make taking their time an easy task, and it was all he could do to restrain himself. There would be time for fast and rough later, he reminded himself repeatedly.

Lucius continued to rain kisses on her, moving from her lips to neck to breasts and back to her lips, eagerly covering every inch in between. His hand slipped down and he slid a finger into her, noting with surprise how tightly her body clenched him even past her virginal barrier. If he hadn’t known better, he would have wondered if he would fit at all, but since he did know better he set himself to preparing her to receive him.

It wasn’t long before he decided that fingers weren’t enough, he just had to have a taste, and gently he worked his way down her body. Her eyes went wide when she realized his intentions, but she said nothing in complaint. When he ran his tongue over her clit and begun to stroke the rest of her with it he felt her thighs shake slightly from his efforts – efforts that he then doubled in order to have her moaning and writhing under him, her hands gripping the sheets.

Only when he felt her body contract around his continuously working fingers did he deem her ready for him. He kissed her softly as he adjusted himself and then thrust in slowly, all the while watching her face carefully. She winced at the initial pain but didn’t make a sound. Lucius paused inside her, though his body was demanding motion. He ran his hands along her body while kissing her neck, doing everything he could sooth and relax her. Soon enough she moaned encouragement and he slowly pulled himself almost completely out only to slowly thrust himself back inside. When she began to fully surrender to it all and her hips rose to meet his thrusts he began to pick up the pace.

It was a fairly tame encounter by Lucius’ standards, without any of the complicated positions, toys, or techniques he fantasized about teaching her, but that didn’t lessen the pleasure for him. The descendant of Leda he had long dreamed of, and in the years since he had first been told the story of Leda he had come up with numerous ideas of how he might one day meet her. Though he couldn’t deny to himself that Hermione’s identity as the daughter of Leda had initially shocked him, and his opinions on blood status had played their role as well, but as he came to know her Lucius was beginning to find that she was everything he had hoped for. And more. It was unnerving, yet thrilling, and when finally they collapsed into one another’s arms he came face to face with the truth of their situation.

Sleep came eventually, with neither even mentioning the idea of Hermione returning straight home. These were stolen moments for both of them, and neither had any intention of wasting it. Day eventually gives way to night, and as the bliss from their encounter wore off Lucius’ dreams became filled with horror. He relieved their skirmish in the Department of Ministries from little more than a year before, and as he witnessed one of his fellow Death Eaters aiming their wand at Hermione and saying “Avada—”

“NO!” he shouted, his body launching upright as he woke from the nightmare. He sat there, shaking, as the reality of where he was came back to him.

“Lucius?” said Hermione behind him, sitting up to comfort him though she seemed still half asleep. She ran her fingers through his hair and rested her head on his shoulder, never asking about a dream she knew he wasn’t prepared to reveal.

Finally he felt enough at ease to lay back down, holding her tightly in his arms. They never went back to sleep, and instead talked the night away until at last streams of light began to filter through the windows and they could no longer deny that morning was upon them.

“Hermione?” said Lucius softly. “I know... I know that you were right, about us needing to keep our distance. I think last night made me happier than I have been in years, but I won’t pressure or trick you into it again. Not if you don’t want it. I just...”

“Yes?” she asked, her beautiful caramel eyes staring up at him.

“If this ever ends, and we ever get the chance... I just want you to know that I think a lot of you and I hope you’d be willing to see where this takes us. Whatever it is we have.”

Hermione knew that his words must cost him dearly. Malfoy’s didn’t show tender emotions in front of anyone, much less say such things as he had forced his tongue to speak. It touched her greatly, and brought to the forefront of her mind those thoughts that she too had been entertaining but tried to push away. “I hope we get the chance,” she said. “But if we don’t, I hope you don’t feel the need to doubt that I care. For whatever reason or by whatever cruel twist of fate, I really do care.”

They said little else as they rose and dressed, Lucius into a fresh set of clothing and Hermione slipping back into the nightshirt she’d worn when brought there. There were no goodbyes. Neither felt themselves able to say the words. Instead they kissed each other gently and, finally, Hermione disapparated.


When Hermione got home she didn’t want to get dressed or think about the coming day. Instead she went to her bed and fell asleep, her blankets pulled tightly around her and her mind imagining that she was still by Lucius’ side.

How could things have come to this? And why? It’s easy to hate your enemy, to work against them knowing that everything they are and everything they stand for is wrong. How could she do so now? Voldemort was evil, of that she had never doubted. Lucius was wrong to support him, she also knew. But how could she act as she must, in support of Harry and everything she believed in, when she knew that in so doing she might put Lucius in danger? She’d changed the rules by breaking them, and now she had no clear cut idea of right and wrong. No black and white. Hers was a gray, gloomy world, and she never wanted to face the coming day.

---

A/N: Midway through writing this chapter I realized I was writing the first time I wish I’d had. Or, at least, I think I do... Stupid emotions. Lol. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoyed the break from angst into the realm of the erotic. I wish I could say it would last, and Hermione and Lucius would remain in bed together forever, but, alas, they have things to do and people to see before we can reach that happy ending.