No Looking Back

Written for my good friend, Dynonugget. Rawwrrrr!!!

Before we get to the chapter, I'd like to thank everyone for all of your fantastic reviews! I appreciate each and every one, and knowing you're waiting makes me write faster! I hope you really enjoy this chapter; it is a long time coming, and I appreciate you sticking with me til we got here. I wrote this for my friend, Dynonugget, but I want you to know that each one of you were in my thoughts as I was writing! Enjoy!!! And don't forget to leave a review, LOL Thanks, Dari

In one flowing movement, I sweep her into my arms and carry her down the hall.

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As we approach the door to the Master Chambers, Hermione whispers a soft “Luc.” She says this timidly, and the Death Eater in me laps at it, feasts on it. Lowering my head to her neck, I suckle on the tender flesh. Her sudden intake of breath spurs me on. I bite down as I draw her into my mouth. Her hands clutch my head, not to drag me away from her bruised skin, but to hold me fast. Knowing she is well and truly marked, I raise my head. Her eyes are glazed, lost in passion. I take her to bed.

As I sink down with her on the counterpane, I vanish her clothes. I am determined to take my time, taste every inch of her, even if I have to bind her. But she knows my intentions, for her hands grab for the headboard. I kiss her, devouring her mouth with my tongue and lips, nipping, never stopping in my quest to learn her taste and texture.

I force my mouth to leave hers and slowly make my way down her body, stopping to lick the ridge of her collar bone, planting wide, open-mouth kisses on her sternum before turning my attention to her breasts, so soft they steal my breath. I rub my thumb over her pelvic bones and find her ticklish. Tucking that information away, my mouth traces her ribs, counting them as I continue on my path. I place light kisses along her hips and lower abdomen. She heaves a breathy laugh. I move from her, and she makes her displeasure known by lifting her hips to my mouth. Ignoring her, I turn my attention to her thighs, her inner knees, down to her calves and finally, her feet. I lift her leg gently, running my nose along the tender ball of her foot before nudging her toes. I lick the soft pads before slipping each toe past my lips. Sucking each one in turn, she finally cries out my name, twisting her head on the silk sheets. She fuels my passion, my eagerness for her. I will not be deterred; I have waited a lifetime for this woman, this time with her. She is my greatest achievement, and I will bask in my glory.

Gently turning her and spreading her legs to kneel between them, I work my way back up her body, licking the backs of her knees, suckling on her creamy inner thighs. As I reach her soft, round arse, I take a moment, enjoying the sensation of it filling my hands. I want to take my hand to her, to raise a blush in those cheeks with my palm, but not now, not yet. Lowering my head, I find the delicate flesh where cheek meets leg, nibbling and wetting her skin, watching as goosebumps rise. Hermione is eager, raising her hips off the bed, and offering her glistening pussy to me. Placing my shoulders between her thighs, I put my mouth to her, and she moans her pleasure.

She tastes like nectar, tart and sweet with a hint of something more, something that is indescribably female. Her folds are flushed with need, and her clit is swollen and eager to be taken. I force myself to only sample her treasures; I’ve yet to taste the small of her back or trail my tongue up her spine, over and along the slightly raised ridges that lead me to her shoulder blades and the back of her neck.

I bury my face in her hair as I let my rigid cock rest against her arse, hot through the silk drawstring pajama bottoms I still wear.

I ease away, and she quickly turns over, grabbing my face and pulling me down to kiss me. She is wild with need. She works my bottoms off my arse, reaching for me and guiding me into her. She is hot and wet and oh, fucking gods, soft! Her muscles are clenching around me, pulling me further into her body. She wraps her arms and legs around me. She is small and slight, and as I lift up onto my knees, I wrap my arm around her and bring her with me. Sitting back on my haunches, I reach under her legs, my elbows under her knees and my hands wrapped around her shoulders, I lift her so that her knees almost touch her chest. She is fully open and exposed for me, and I begin thrusting into her. She is gasping for air, and she is glorious to behold. She clutches my hair as I hold her tight and fuck her.

I fuck her like there is only this night left, fuck her as if my life depends upon it, for there is only this night, and my life revolves around sinking my body into hers. I put my mouth to her breast and suck hard, and she falls apart in my arms, moaning and shaking in release. My release is building in my spine and racing to my balls, drawing them tight against my body. I come long and hard, and I roar her name.

It takes me several moments before I can slowly lower her legs and wrap them around my waist. She takes my mouth in a desperately hungry kiss. My legs are trembling; never have I felt such an explosion of sensations. With my arms around her, I gently ease our bodies onto the bed, turning slightly so that we are lying facing each other.

Our kisses grow gentle. Her hands caress my body, running lightly over my shoulders and chest; her fingers graze my nipples. Her hand finds my hip, then my arse. Her delightful fingers explore the round flesh, tickling as she caresses. Our eyes meet, and we share a smile. I am still nestled in her body, but she is slick; I feel our combined wetness running down her thigh. Reaching between us, I lightly finger the proof of our passion and relish the feel of the hot, tender flesh of our still-joined bodies.

“Finally,” we murmur simultaneously, and startled, we chuckle. I slip from her body, and the wetness increases. My fingers smear the juices over her mound and thighs.

I push my fingers inside her, and her inner walls close in on them. Easing them out, my soaked fingers reach down to lightly stroke her flesh, making my way to her anus. Looking into her eyes, I gauge her willingness. She leans in for another kiss and presses her tender flesh against my hand, granting access. My fingers return to her pussy, coating them before applying gentle pressure to her arse so that they slowly sink into her small, tight channel.

I slide down her body, intent on cleansing her soft flesh with my mouth. I raise her leg so that it rests on my shoulder and press open-mouth kisses to her thighs, using my tongue and lips. My fingers are motionless inside her body, giving her time to adjust and respond to the new stimulus. Soon, she is slowly undulating her hips, working herself gently on my fingers, and my lips latch onto her clit. The combination proves to be too much, and she begins shaking with the force of her second orgasm. Her hips are thrusting madly into my mouth as the attempt to draw out every last drop of pleasure, and against her firm round flesh, my fingers are buried to the hilt.

At last she stops, and I gently remove my hand and mouth from her body. I wrap my arm around her hip and rest my cheek against her stomach. Her hands, once clutched tightly to the pillows behind her are now in my hair, holding me close. Silently, I am beating my chest and roaring to all that this is my woman, my witch, with whom I will build my home and life. Ours is not merely a physical union, I feel as if she’s crawled into my body, that I carry her under my breast, in my heart. I feel her heartbeat, and I know it is mine. Her pulse is thundering just under her skin, but it is my blood that flows through her, as it is her blood that flows through me. I want to scream, I love Hermione Jane Granger.

We lie unmoving in those moments, and our heartbeats finally slow. Her fingers are now in my hair, drawing me up her body to once again lie next to her. We kiss languidly, supping on each other’s mouths, drinking in this moment.

The need to speak weighs heavily; yet I am loathe to break this spell. To hold Hermione in my arms is a homecoming. I am replete. I am content. After the stress and strain of the day, to end it with her, here with me, now, in my bed, is more than I can articulate. Yet, I know I must say something, for this has come about unexpectedly, and I’ve no doubt come morning I’ll either find myself alone or facing an emotional witch. Not the best of choices.

“Will you stay with me?” I ask softly.

Her answer is to lay her head on my chest with her hand over my heart. She drapes her leg across mine, and her toes lazily draw patterns against my calf. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close. I kiss her hair, and I catch the gentle floral scent of her shampoo.

We lie motionless for a while; the hand moving slowly through the hair on my chest tells me she is resting, not sleeping. I wonder who will be the first to break the silence?

“Lucius,” she whispers. I should have known, I smirk to myself. “What have we done?”

I begin laughing. “My sweet one, if you need to be told, perhaps…” I inhale sharply.

“Oh, hush,” she teases, tweaking my nipple. “You know what I mean.” The little minx likes to play. A devilish thought takes hold.

“I do,” I agree just as softly. “We’ve made love, Hermione. I’ve much to tell you. But, perhaps, you’d like a shower first? I’ll transform something ‘appropriate’ for you to sleep in.”

“I’m not sleepy in the least,” she giggles. “But yes, a shower sounds grand.”

She rises lithely and makes her way into the master bath. Quickly rising from the bed, I stride over to my armoire and remove a cravat. Quickly transforming it into a silk, pink peignoir, I toss it on the bed and set out to join her in the shower.

The bath is hot and steaming as I quietly close the door. I open the glass door and quickly join Hermione, who smiles over her shoulder. She reaches for the bottle of shampoo and hands it to me. Smiling, I begin washing her hair, taking delight in having my scent on her. I let my fingers roam her scalp, gently piling her hair on top her head and working my fingers through the mass. I rinse the tresses then apply my special hair conditioner, working it quickly and evenly through her hair before rinsing one final time. She is enjoying herself, emitting soft moans.

“I knew you’d be marvelous at this,” she admits, leaning back onto my chest. In my hands now is my shower gel, and instead of a flannel, I use my hands to spread the soap and bubbles across her supple skin. I lightly skim her mound, finally washing away the evidence of our first bout of lovemaking. I take delight in running my hands down her body, chasing the soap and bubbles down the drain. With her hands on my shoulders, she urges me to trade places with her, and now she is washing my hair. She stands on her toes to reach the top of my head, and I do little to help. I like the feel of her breasts brushing against my back as she works. She rinses then applies the conditioner, as I did for her.

“I never thought I’d be washing a man’s hair that is as long as mine,” she giggles. Gods save me from a giggling woman.

She sinks to her knees and takes me in her mouth. Unbidden images creep into my thoughts, but I firmly push them aside. She is mine, and she is here with me. I rest my shoulders against the cool tile of the shower and close my eyes.

Her hands feel heavenly; she alternates between stroking and roaming. She takes me deeper and deeper into that warm, wet cave of her mouth. Her teeth lightly graze the base of my cock, and a shiver runs down my spine.

Her hand is on my arse again, but now, her fingers are cool and slick and lightly probing between my rounded flesh. I look down at her, and she is a sight to behold. Her soft lips are stretched thin and tight over my hard cock; she is not able to take my full length, but dear gods, the woman is trying.

Her fingers rub lightly against my hole, and I see the conditioner bottle on the floor near her knee. I meet her heated gaze and smirk, then plant my feet farther apart, granting her access. Her fingers sink slowly into my body, pausing as I adjust. She begins sucking vigorously, and her free hand grabs the base of my balls, constricting them, making my breath catch. My cock hits the back of her throat, and I feel the muscles there relax so that another inch sinks down her throat.

There is an explosion in my brain as her questing little fingers find my prostrate. I am caught between heaven and hell, between fucking her mouth until it is numb and holding back and letting her set the pace. All too soon I am rocking into her mouth and I come long and hard. I feel her throat muscles working frantically to swallow my seed, and her fingers continue to work their magic inside my body. The pleasure goes on and on.

For several long minutes we are motionless before she slowly slips her fingers from me. She places light, open kisses to my now-shrinking cock while my legs continue to tremble. Finally, I am steady, and I hold out my hand to help her stand. I kiss her then, tasting my seed on her lips. My kiss is gentle for her lips are red and swollen.

With the water now streaming over our bodies, I smooth the wet strands of hair away from her face and look into her eyes, those beautiful, expressive eyes; the ones that toss insults, throw daggers and roll with exasperation. Holding her face in my hands, I lean in close and whisper, “I love you, Hermione Jane Granger.”

In typical female fashion, her eyes fill with tears. “Come, my love, we need to talk,” I say as I open the glass door. Leaving the shower, I cast drying charms and a useful spell that manages our long locks. In the bedroom, we don our dressing robes. I hand her one of my hair ties, and together we secure our hair.

We settle ourselves in the living room. Pulling her onto my lap, I wrap us in a cashmere blanket and call for Gobby, who appears in an instant. He is happy to see his friend Miss Hermione, and they chat for a moment about his new home and new status. She frowns when she learns he has been enslaved, but is mollified when she learns it was his decision. I request a cold repast, and with a quick bow and ‘Welcome home, Miss,” he disappears.

Hermione leans her head on my shoulder, placing her arms over mine as I hold her. “You didn’t remember me, remember us. How could you have fallen in love with me in a week? What has changed so much in three months? How do you know you aren’t going to learn or figure out or realize why you rejected me and think you should never have become involved with me?” I feel her tension, feel her begin to pull away. I tighten my arms around her.

“Shh, Hermione. Love, it will be fine. I’ve things I need to tell you. Sit here with me, let me hold you and tell you. Alright?”

I feel her nod as she lays her head on my shoulder once more.

“First, Narcissa and I divorced this afternoon.” I feel her pull away, and tug her back once more. “Stay still and listen. You are not the reason for the divorce. I know that fact stings, but, nevertheless, it is the truth. My life is not what it once was. For the first time in my adult life, I am free to make decisions that are best for me. I’ve read my journals and ledgers, I’ve talked with Gobby and Draco and Severus.” As much as I loathe the stiffness in her shoulders, I press on.

“Those chains that held me are gone, Sweet One. This week has been traumatic and a revelation. Everything I once knew is gone. I am no longer tied to the past, no longer bound by those promises. I am a different man now, Hermione. A free man. You are correct. I did not fall in love with you in a week.”

I relate to her Severus’ theory that my feelings for her ran so deep and strong that I recognized them, though the memories associated with those feelings were gone. She says nothing for several long minutes, and I give her this time to adjust to what I have said.

“Severus has been a good friend, Lucius. To both of us.” She whispers this, and I fear she is going to confess to her interlude with my best friend.

“Yes, he is a good friend, love,” I say quickly. “He has rightly pointed out that I am not the same man I was a week ago, or three months ago. I’ve read of that time, I know all that has happened. But it is in the past. I am determined to make a future, Hermione. A future with you, if your feelings haven’t changed, that is.”

She pulls away from me, and I am left cold with her absence. “It took quite a long time for me to develop my feelings for you and accept them, I hardly think I am about to abandon them now,” She says with a wide smile.

Relief courses through me. It had been a risk, admitting to her how I felt before knowing her feelings. She leans in and kisses me, running her small hand down my cheek. “I love you.”

I crush her to me, kissing her, consuming her, reassuring her of my love, offering myself to her.

Gobby returns with our food, and we quickly realize we’ve an appetite. Like all new lovers, we feed each other and share stories and quiet revelations. I share with her why I rejected her offer to become my lover.

“It is not because I did not want you, Sweet One. Of that I am sure. I’ve never let myself become emotionally attached to a witch, she would have become another target for Voldemort, another way for him to control me. I’d spent most of the war trying to distract the maniac from as many witches and wizards as possible.

“But more importantly, love, the vows I’d taken the day I was wed meant something to me. I was young and idealistic, and when everything in my life started to unravel and fell apart, when I saw my friends and family either killed or become killers, when I saw Voldemort becoming more and more insane, I needed one part of my life to remain true. I could not even raise my son as I truly wanted, but I could remain true to my vows, though the marriage itself meant less and less as the years went by.

“But you, Sweet One, tested me. Challenged me. You defied my notions of who Muggle-borns could be, and what place they could have in my life. That does not mean,” I continue as I see the gleam in her eye, the corner of her mouth lift in a small smile, “that I will be surrounding myself with them.”

“When I saw you this past Monday,” she admits, “when I Floo-ed over, your eyes followed me about the room as they once did when we first began working together. I felt the change. There was a charge in the room. And then you kissed me, and it was new and better than any of the others we’d shared. It felt like it was our first kiss. And then, when we’d been in your bedroom...” she pauses, blushing. She clears her throat, but she still sounds breathless and husky. “You never let me touch you, before. You gave me pleasure, but you never let me…” She leaves the rest unfinished. I kiss her, letting my mouth and tongue explore her mouth leisurely, the first heady rush of passion being assuaged, I now am eager to explore every inch of her.

We talk for hours. I share with her my feelings of this past week, the confusion of waking and not knowing what had happened, hiding the memory loss from Narcissa and those I came across this past week. I told her I’d been to see Severus, but did not share with her that I’d seen their interaction. We were different people then, and I am determined to keep my life moving forward.

Eventually, the events of the night catch up with us. We slowly walk down the hall to what is now our bedroom. I complete my nightly ablutions, and when I return to the bedroom, Hermione has my last journal in her hands. She has been reading; her curiosity must have overtaken all rational thought. With a frightened look on her face, she looks up and asks “Lucius, who is Hespion Warland, and what is the Warland Council?”


Thanks to my amazing betas, Wildcatcdc and Sc010f. You ladies ROCK!