Some Things Change

Lucius was thinking over the day’s events as he waited for his business associate to arrive. He hated to leave, but he had responsibilities at the Ministry, and getting the Malfoy name back where it belonged was an onerous and time-consuming task. Being fair and available was a large part of it.

He smiled when he thought about giving Draco his... permission with Hermione. He had expected Draco to take Hermione to his rooms immediately and was surprised at the lack of jealousy that thought aroused in him.

But then again, with Hermione, everything was different. The meeting with the other triad had not gone nearly as well as he’d hoped it would. Thello’s evident unhappiness had tugged at Hermione’s heartstrings, and Lucius was man enough to admit it had affected him as well. When he’d first met the triad, Michael and Celeste had only just met Thello, and the three had seemed very happy, if a little awkward. But as time went on, it became clear that each member was somewhat unhappy with the arrangement, despite the obvious magical benefits that came with it.

Despite his good intentions, it seemed the meeting might have done more harm than good in persuading Hermione how amazing triads can be. He knew she was looking for love, and that while the idea of immense power appealed to a strong witch such as her, she also wanted a stable and loving relationship. Lucius felt confident that he could provide her with that; she was certainly lovely, brilliant, fun to be around and incredibly sexy. He knew that loving her would not be a stretch for him, though it might take time. He had not loved another since Narcissa, nor he loved anyone before her or while they’d been married. She’d been the only one for him for as long as he could recall, but he certainly remembered how to love. He believed he was made for marriage; he’d always been happiest when Narcissa had been happy, despite how difficult she had been at times.

Draco might pose a problem. The young man had grown a lot, both since the end of the war and since Narcissa had left, but he was still very young. Lucius knew his son had great potential, both as a lover and as a husband, and he would certainly give him the benefit of the doubt, but he worried that this whole thing was too much, too soon for the young man. Lucius vowed to talk with his son about the implications, not just of the triad, but of a lifelong, monogamous relationship.

He hoped Hermione would take them up on the offer of staying at the Manor. It would be much easier to seduce her within the Manor’s walls than have to do it at work. He could woo her outside of work as well, but this proximity would make things much simpler.

Because there was simply no way Hermione Granger was going to walk away from this without two men on her arms.


Dinner that night was a muted affair. Hermione tried not to notice the devilish look in Draco’s eyes, and since he kept staring at her, that became more and more difficult.

“Hermione,” Draco said, startling her away from staring at the food on her plate. She looked up, and he smiled. “You have to try this, it’s amazing.”

From his seat beside her, he presented her with a spoonful of chocolate mousse. Her own dish held the exact same dessert, but she couldn’t resist opening her mouth to partake of Draco’s instead. Her eyes nearly rolled back at the unholy lightness of the dessert, so good she regretted swallowing.

Draco leaned over and placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, tongue darting out as if to catch a stray bit of chocolate, even though Hermione knew the spoon hadn’t even touched her lip there. He pulled back slightly, sighing softly and kissing her again.

“Sinful, isn’t it?” he whispered against her parted lips.

Hermione tried to remember where she was. “The... the dessert?”

He smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Of course, Hermione. What else?”

What else, indeed!

A house elf saved her from answering, quickly bowing before Draco and announcing, “Master says he will not be home until very late, as his business meeting is running behind schedule.”

Draco nodded his thanks, and the house elf went to pop away before turning once again. “And Master says to entertain your guest. He says Miss is most welcome to stay tonight.”

“Thank you, Gibby. Please make sure a cognac is waiting in my father’s room when he arrives. It sounds as though he will need it.”

“Of course, Master Draco.” The house elf disappeared, and Draco scooped another spoonful of mousse and consumed it thoughtfully.

“You know, few are brave enough to go against my father’s wishes,” he said, speaking slowly as though he was only just realizing this.

Hermione laughed. “Are you threatening me? If I don’t stay, you’ll sic big, bad, Death Eater Lucius on me?”

Draco looked at her steadily, before smiling tightly. “Of course not. Would you like some tea before I show you to your rooms?”

Hermione bit her lip, sure she’d done something wrong. “No, I’d like to see the room now, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he said, standing and offering his arm. Hermione was wondering where the playful Draco had gone as he led her up the stairs, but she didn’t have time to think on it because she was too busy trying to remember the way they were taking.

“Is Apparition possible in Malfoy Manor?” she asked, knowing she’d never find the way.

“You aren’t keyed into the wards yet,” he said flatly. She nodded, and finally they arrived outside a set of double doors. He inclined his head at her, indicating she should open the doors. She smiled at him, and he responded with only a nod. Confused, Hermione decided to just open the doors.

She couldn’t have held back the gasp if she’d tried. The room (rooms, her inner child giggled) was enormous. Her flat would have fit inside with room to dance around the edges. It was done in a light sage colour with heavy mahogany furniture and wainscoting. Dark grey and burnished silver made appearances throughout, but what immediately drew and kept her eye was the massive canopy bed. It was every woman’s dream. The wood was beautiful, a colour that gleamed in the light, dark but not oppressive. The bedspread was a warm grey colour with light and medium green pillows and a matching throw folded at the foot of the bed. Draped on the canopy were silvery curtains, light and translucent and flowing enticingly in the wind.

The wind... Hermione looked to her right where there was a balcony with French doors thrown open. Entranced, Hermione walked toward it. The balcony was large and overlooked the Malfoy gardens. The smell of fresh flowers wafted into the room, and Hermione had to close her eyes. It was all too beautiful, all too much. But she wanted it. She wondered if wanting something so material made her a bad person, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care. It was the most beautiful room she’d ever seen, and it was hers.

Speaking of beautiful and hers, Draco was leaning against the doorway to her room, eyebrow raised, watching her carefully. She beckoned for him to join her on the balcony, and when it looked as though he would refuse, she went to meet him.

“Draco, this is completely gorgeous. I’m stunned. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She reached for his hands and was grateful that he let her, since it seemed he was upset over something. She leaned up to kiss him, but his lips were unresponsive. She bit her lip, wondering if they were close enough for her to just come out and ask what was wrong.

“I’m pleased it’s to your liking. I think I’ll retire now.” He turned as if to leave, and Hermione impulsively grabbed his arm. He turned slowly back toward her, raising a cool eyebrow.

“Draco, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

He smiled a cold smile that made her shiver and reminded her unpleasantly of the Old Draco. “Not at all.”

“You’re upset with me. Please, just tell me. You have to be honest with me if this is going to work. You know that’s true.”

He looked at her appraisingly, and his facade crumbled only for a second—enough time for her to see uncertainty and hurt. In a mere moment, it was back up, and she sighed.

“You know your father would agree with me. Please, tell me.” She ran her hands in what she hoped was a soothing manner up his arms to loop around his neck.

He sighed and gathered her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin. He kissed her temple and let out a shaky breath.

“You’re right. I need to learn to be more... open. It’s just not what I was taught, how I was raised. Things are different now, so I suppose I should adapt.”

He led her over to the bed and they both sat down. She took a moment to revel in the absolute decadence of the mattress and the utter luxury of the coverlet before looking at Draco expectantly.

“I know you know my father was a Death Eater.” He paused and her error flooded her like a tsunami.

“Oh, Draco, I didn’t think—”

“I know. It’s just... not something we talk about. I mean, we don’t ignore that it happened; it was a horrible mistake, built on generations of similar mistakes. My father is not a weak man, but he was wrong. He knows and he has paid. I don’t think people will ever know the extent to which he—we—have paid.”

Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes. She had been so callous to make such a stupid comment, a joke like she would have made with Harry or Ron, and she should have known better. It hurt, of course, to know that only a few years ago Lucius and Draco hated her solely on the matter of her parentage, but she did believe people could change, or else she wouldn’t be here.

“I am so sorry. I will never say anything so insensitive again. And I’m so glad you told me what was wrong. I want to fix it.”

Draco smiled, squeezing her hand and leaning over for a soft kiss. “It’s fixed. I shouldn’t have let it bother me, but I’m happy I told you. If my father heard... if he suspected you didn’t respect him or believe him reformed...” Draco shook his head and looked away. “He cares for you so much, Hermione. It would destroy him,” he finished in a whisper.

“The words are erased from my vocabulary, I promise you. I have great respect for your father, and you, Draco. I know you’ve changed, both of you. And I’m so grateful to get to know the real you.”

She leaned in for another kiss, and Draco didn’t let her pull away this time. He held her face softly in his hands, mouth moving slowly, tenderly against hers. His gentleness unravelled her, and she moaned softly when his tongue tickled her lips, parting them and slipping within. His taste was so different than any she’d known, it was sweet and soft and perfect, like ice cream. His tongue slid alongside hers, and he pushed her gently onto the bed, leaning over her without breaking the kiss.

“You’re beautiful, Hermione. Thank you for this chance.” His eyes searched hers and she was struck yet again by how their lack of colour was more arresting than any blue or brown eyes she’d ever seen. The grey was darkened, flecked with silver in a most tantalizing way.

She kissed him lightly, and smiled. “Thank you for having me.” It seemed inadequate, but it was heartfelt, and one look at his face told her that her message was delivered.

She moved back to recline fully on the sinfully soft pillows, and Draco followed her, running his hand up her bare calf and up her thigh, under the green sundress which was obviously appreciated. She bit her lip in anticipation when his hand met her underwear at her hip. His traced it lightly with a fingertip, leaning over her and watching her reaction. She was sure she didn’t disappoint, gasping when his finger grazed her lower belly at the top of her underwear.

“I want you, Hermione,” he told her, voice dangerously low. She pulled him down for a kiss, and her mind reeled at how different his kisses could be from one moment to the next. This one was highly provocative, passionate and hard. He bit her lower lip before sucking it into his mouth and following it after he released it, tracing it with his tongue and flicking. The assault on her mouth was entirely too reminiscent of what he might do between her thighs, and her breath caught at the thought.

Draco moved so he was settled between her thighs, her dress hitched around her hips to allow him there. His arousal pressed against her intimately and she nearly gasped, feeling the heat and size even though their layers of clothing. Draco took the kiss to her neck and collarbone, marking her lightly and smirking, and it was all too easy to imagine he was thinking of what his father would think.

Her hips were circling of their own accord, and she had no idea where she learned that, but her movements were preternatural and entirely instinctual, and Draco seemed to appreciate it because he kept exhaling sharply against her skin before renewing his ravenous kisses.

“Draco,” she moaned, not having planned to say anything further. His somehow cool fingers lifted her skirt higher, and, finally, over her head. She wore only a pair of dark green lace panties, not having needed a bra with the supportive dress. She shivered to be bared so before him, but the look in his eyes was only appreciative and very much so at that.

“You are one stunning witch,” he told her, reverently smoothing his hand up her side to cup her breast. She writhed at the contact, wanting more. His fingers circled her nipple before finally pinching it lightly, watching it firm under his skilled touch. Groaning softly, he lowered his head and repeated the treatment with his teeth, and Hermione gasped as the slight pain sent shockwaves right between her thighs.

His hand travelled into her panties, tugging lightly on her downy hair before slipping between her folds.

“Yes,” she whispered, moving her hips to get more contact. He’d reduced her to mere nerve endings, her brain only thinking more.

He obliged her, fingers expertly circling her clit, pressing and flicking it in a devastating rhythm matching the one his tongue was exerting on her breasts. His finger slid into her, slowing delving into her pussy before coming back with another finger.

He met her lips for another inflamed kiss, but when her hand went to caress the front of his trousers, he took her hand and pinned it beside her head.

“Tonight, only you, Hermione,” he whispered against her lips. Her intense desire to reciprocate fought with her need for more friction in her own underwear, with the latter winning. She raised both hands above her head and vowed to keep them there.

Draco slipped between her spread thighs, whispering, “Good girl,” in her ear before tugging her panties off. Bending her legs so her feet were flat on the bed, Draco leaned down, his tongue immediately seeking out her swollen nub, circling and flicking it with ferocious efficiency.

While his tongue worked her into a frenzy, his fingers rejoined the effort, thrusting into her body with a force that made her wish for more. She was seconds away from begging Draco to fuck her when her orgasm came upon her like a freight train, announcing itself only moments before exploding.

“Draco! Oh, gods, coming!” she cried, unable to stop herself from sinking her fingers into his silky white-blond hair and press his mouth closer against her needy body. Her hips rolled as sensation flowed through her, curling her toes and clenching her pussy so tight he couldn’t retreat if he’d wanted to.

Hermione came back to herself and released her death grip on Draco’s hair. Wiping his mouth surreptitiously, he languorously crawled back up her body, kissing her squarely, to which she could barely find the strength to respond.

“Well,” she panted, smiling at his sparkling eyes. “I think you’re overdressed.”



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Author's Note: Wow, thank you all so much for the amazing reviews. I'm so thrilled that you are enjoying this story! I have so many ideas for it....

Thanks, as always, to kazfeist for her beta-work on this chapter.