Deliciously So... (Editing)

Disclaimers and thanks: I don’t own any of the Harry Potter characters, only some minor one’s are my own. I do not intend to make any financial profit out of this.

I thank Persephone for being such a good friend and betareader, she does her job marvelously. Arrigatou gozaimasu!

I thank Die Hexe and Twilight Lady who listened to my rantings and ravings while I wrote this, the latter having lent me her laptop. Thank you darlings.

Thank you all for reading and for the reviews, I love them! I really do! Keep them coming.

Author’s Note: I apologize for how long it took me to write this, but this is the chapter that has been for a long time decided and I never got chance to writing it, what with my pc blowing (deleting earlier copy), studying, holidays. The first parts I’d actually written for quite a while but the last part, which I’m hoping you’ll enjoy *eyes glint evilly* I’m sure some will enjoy, was very special to me and had to be perfect, thus resulting in the long wait. Really sorry.

La Bibliographe: I must admit Bellatrix I adore among all others, insane characters always appeal to me (now you know where my penname comes from) and she has such vicious mood swings, I’m actually so happy they picked Helen to play her in the films. She brought her to life really. Rodolphus and Rabastan have equally appealed to me for unknown reasons, and am very upset they have such small roles in the books, thus not being able to truly see them in the films :’( enough rambling. And keep up the good work on Prisoners of Love. I adore it!

Linmo: I suppose it was quite unexpected and sudden, and I had intended to put it all down to possessiveness, but I guess I failed a bit there. Am glad you enjoyed the rest. Thank you so much.

MistressMalfoy: Thanks, darling. :p

999: Yeah well, Blinky is quite special to me, although I normally detest the submissive House elves, only going for dobby, because he’s nuts, and kreacher equally nuts poor thing :'(;
Also sad to say I have no idea if Lucius has a change of heart, was on spur of the moment and now I’ve got to deal myself with the consequences. Thank you so much for the compliments.

Die Hexe: Here you are One-chan! Thank you for bearing up with me, the first thing I did when I got home was eat some of those delightful fruits :p As you know, no headache ahead, but cannot promise there will be no abrupt change of blood pressure :D You better like him now! Stuff Sirius!

Gaps of Misery: Not sure this really counts on the we-dine-in-hell-saga. You’ll have to decide. And I don’t mind your insolence at all, I would ask the same things had I been in your position and you know it ;) Alright, alright. I sit next to Lucius, and you can sit next to Severus, instead of dinner, why not go for a drink in the drawing room locking out any possible family related intruders, though Rodolphus still appeals to me a lot. Oh, I have too large a list of darlings, and absolutely no chance of ticking their names off *sobs*

Heidi191976: sorry was very busy. I’m glad you liked it so far.

Chapter 15

Whispers of Eden and cries from Hell.

Breakfast was a subdued affair: one could almost hear the proverbial quill drop. The two wizards were so deep in thought, however, that this infinitesimal sound would have gone unnoticed by either of them. Snape was attempting to fathom every possible effect that the previous night’s events would have, while Lucius was trying to figure out why his reactions had escalated to such an extent.

It is common knowledge that I have a ghastly temper. Therefore, it follows that I do not take kindly to those who touch or try to spoil my things. It is only logical that I lost it when Bellatrix openly defied me and wounded the girl… Even though his mind could find this somewhat reasonable explanation, somehow it just didn’t convince him. Blasting one’s sister-in-law against a wall and rendering her unconscious is not usually caused by one’s possessiveness or temper… He didn’t care to finish the thought. Searching for something to quiet his overactive brain, he levitated the china teapot and poured himself another cup of tea.

The sudden movement seemed to interrupt the other’s thoughts as well, for he looked up and glared at his friend who was massaging his temples; sensing he was being stared at, he turned and asked irritably “Yes?”

“Lucius, do you remember anything from last night?”

“Of course I do. What an idiotic question.”

“And do you realize that now, with the girl’s presence known to Bellatrix, the Dark Lord will know as well.”

“Well yes, I had thought it likely.”

“Then I’m sure you know that things could get very complicated. Bellatrix has despised you for some time and would use anything in her arsenal against you. Knocking her out for a Mudblood’s protection certainly won’t help to detract her hostility.”

“No, I doubted it.”

Snape let out a weary sigh before responding. “Try to remember, Lucius, that I too live in this household and will be considered an accomplice. I have absolutely no intention of being tortured to my very wit’s end and then have what’s left of my brain picked apart because of you and your inability to control yourself!”

“Not to contradict you, Severus, but I think you are being quite unfair, not to mention rude. I can control myself quite well. For instance, I have not yet answered to any of your provocations this morning.”

“Oh, do forgive me, Lucius,” he said sarcastically. “I was obviously mistaken in assuming that losing one’s temper, something that clearly falls under the category of self-control, implied acting irresponsibly and attacking a woman who loathes you. Perhaps you could reacquaint me with your dictionary.”

“She was asking for it,” he said shortly.

“Oh? Why? Because she was torturing the girl? Potter’s Mudblood?”

“No. Well yes. She was damaging my property and she defied me, openly, in my own house!”

“Did you expect anything different from her?”

Before he could answer the door opened and a very pale Draco entered the room. Without looking up he took his seat at the table.

“Good morning, Draco,” Lucius said.

Draco barely nodded.

“Draco…”

The boy looked up, his grey eyes seemingly dead and cold.

“It is time.”


*****


Five minutes later, the two men clad in their Death Eater robes, quarrel momentarily forgotten, were waiting for Draco in the Entrance Hall. Taking hold of his son’s arm, Lucius apparated them to the catacombs he had visited just a few days before.

He could hear the young boy’s anxious breathing as they stood in the dark. Pushing him slightly aside, he reached out for the snake engraving on the cold stone and after stroking it softly, whispered:

“My Lord, it is Lucius Malfoy. I have brought my son, Draco Malfoy. We wish to beg for admittance.”

“Enter.”

As the stone wall slid aside, Lucius stood back and waited while Draco walked slowly into the torch lit chamber, finding himself getting steadily nearer to the centre of the room where the Dark Lord stood, watching.

Draco looked around the chamber, noticing that the stone wall had just shut, his father standing on the edge of the room, right behind him; he also saw many dark figures emerging out of the shadows. He was soon surrounded, caught in the middle of a circle of the eighteen remaining Death Eaters.

“Come.” A soft hiss brought his eyes back to the centre of the room. When just a few feet separated him from the Dark Lord, he stopped and looked right into those garnet eyes.

“Now, I think you should give me an answer, young Malfoy. I was somewhat angered that you have shown so much reluctance, and I remember clearly that you seemed more certain several weeks ago, before your pathetic mother attempted to stop us. So, Draco, what do you have to say?


Lucius was observing the whole affair from his place in the circle, but took a moment to look around at the other Death Eaters present. He could see Severus opposite him, at the far end of the room. A faint scuffling sound to his left caught his attention, and turning to see what it was, he found two of the masked figures moving against each other. As one of the figures hoods fell he saw it was Bellatrix, who was glaring at him opening her mouth to scream. The other figure had to be her husband, who was seemingly trying to restrain her; he looked at Rodolphus insistently, who simply nodded before pointing his wand into the woman’s back and muttering something. She instantly stood still, her mouth bound shut.


“I-I wish to serve you, Lord,” he rasped.

“Really?” A thin smile appeared on the snake-like face as he walked closer to the trembling boy. He reached out with one of his hands, and Draco could not help but inwardly cringe as the hand that had killed his mother, tortured his father and that would now punish or praise him depending on his performance, drew closer. With this hand, he stroked a long pale finger down his cheek. “You’re scared, Draco. You stink of fear… Hold out your arm.”

Taking a look at the shaking arm the boy offered to him, he let out a high pitched laugh. “How am I supposed to mark you if you won’t stand still? Nagini!” he hissed.

Draco heard movement behind him, but he couldn’t force himself to turn his head; the sound of slithering became audible as the thing drew nearer. Before his brain had time to process this, he felt something at his feet. Tearing his eyes away from Voldemort’s, he looked down and saw with horror that a gigantic snake was coiling itself around his ankles. Losing his balance he fell forward onto his knees, but still the snake continued to twist its sinuous body around him, clasping his right arm tight to his chest, finally stopping when it had coiled around his throat, leaving only his left arm free.

“Don’t worry, Draco; she won’t bite unless I ask her to,” Voldemort muttered softly. “It’s just a little precaution so you won’t move.”

He ripped open the shirt sleeve and observed the immaculate skin. Taking out his wand he swung it once and the boy screamed in pain, as a long gash appeared, blood quickly trickling down the pale skin.

Voldemort closed his eyes whispering, hissing some strange incantation under his breath. Draco observed in shock as the veins on his face became black, slowly extending to his neck, and right shoulder, disappearing under the man’s robes, to then reappear on his arm. Placing his index finger inside the cut, he started pressing in, making Draco cry out. Instantly Nagini looped around his body once more so she was covering the boy’s mouth as well, muffling the screams of anguish.

The black substance was oozing out of Voldemort’s body and into the cut, mixing with the blood that continually dripped to the floor. The blood was now the same color of pitch and hissed once it hit the cold stone floor, corroding its surface.

Removing his finger he observed the skin healing over the wound, the black substance bubbling underneath, until it started to form the shape of a skull with a snake coiling out of the gaping mouth.

“Welcome, Malfoy, to our ranks. You may leave. Come, Nagini,” he declared, walking away as the snake uncoiled herself from the boy who fell to floor unconscious.

“The rest of you may go. Lucius, Severus there is something I need of you, after I have a word with Fenrir.”

Snape looked pointedly at his blond friend as they followed their Master to the armchairs, where the werewolf stood waiting, seemingly uncomfortable in the tight black robes.

“Fenrir, how many able fighters do you count in your pack?”

“I’d say twenty adults, and I’ve just taken some young ones as well. They won’t be properly trained for another six months though.”

“You are to have fifty at your service by the next full moon. I don’t care if they’re children. After all, you know perfectly well they just need to be positioned in the right place before transforming.”

This comment was met by a bark-like laugh.

“Go, and do not disappoint me.”

“Yes, my Lord,” he replied bowing before disappearing in the shadows, eyes alight, his stained teeth showing in his cruel smile.

“Severus, Lucius,” he started, turning to them, “How is that other matter I’d asked of you coming along?”

“It is taking some time, my Lord. ” Lucius stated quietly.

“Yes, well, I must see some results soon or I will be quite displeased. You must remember how unpleasant my punishments can be.”

“Yes, my Lord,” they both answered.

“In the meanwhile, I have another request for you. I want you to go to London. You know what day it is, do you not?”

The two men looked at each other taken aback. For all their worrying about Bellatrix, they did not imagine that today was supposed to be anything out of the ordinary.

“No, my Lord. I am sorry to say I do not. I doubt Lucius does either.”

“No, Lucius wouldn’t.” A rare smile lit the snake like face. “It is the day a new Muggle Prime Minister will be appointed, as you took care of the old one. Well, it is unknown to most that the Minister of Magic meets the new Muggle Minister the day he is elected, in the Muggle’s office. Do you know what that means?”

“The Minister will be alone.”

“Precisely, Lucius.”

“And we are to…”

“I’m sure you know what to do.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

*****

Rufus Scrimgeour ran a withered hand through his hair: ever more it seemed that anything put under his guidance and protection eventually fell spectacularly to pieces, leaving him useless and buried beneath the wreckage. Now he was waiting to speak to the new Prime Minister. The murder of the previous one had shaken him more than he had shown.

A slight cough broke his trail of thoughts, directing his attention to the small oil painting on his wall, where a frog like man with silvery hair was watching him.

“The Prime Minister of Muggles has agreed to receive you, Minister.”

Striding over to his fireplace he took a handful of floo powder from a silver pot on the mantelpiece.

“Number 10, Downing Street, the Minister’s office,” he said as he threw the powder in the fire, disappearing amidst emerald flames.

He noticed the absence of light as soon as he exited the grate. The only lamp switched on was that on the large desk where the Minister sat, a terrified look on his face. Thinking this only a natural Muggle reaction, he tried to calm the poor man.

“Come now, sir. I won’t hurt you. We only need to discuss a few things,” he started, walking towards the desk.

“You will have to wait, Scrimgeour. We were here first,” a drawling voice came from behind the trembling Muggle, as Lucius Malfoy stepped into the light, his wand pointed at him.

“Malfoy?” He reached for his wand. “Who else is here?”

“Expelliarmus” he heard from behind, just as his wand shot away from his hand. “Locomotor Mortis” the same cold voice said, as his legs sprung together, making him lose his balance and fall face down on the floor.

“Who goes there?! I demand you to stop this at once!” he yelled against the carpet.

Seconds later a foot collided with his ribs, kicking him over so he faced the ceiling.

“I think you’ll find, Minister that you are in no position to make demands.”

“Snape!” he gasped.

“Very good, Minister. I see you still recognize me.”

“What’s happening to him? Did he come out of the fire?! Who are you people?!” the Prime Minister screamed.

“Silence,” hissed Lucius, “Or I will silence you myself. We, you filthy piece of scum, are your superiors. We are wizards.”

“Wizards! That’s preposterous! I don’t know how you did it, but do not take me for a fool! This must be some carefully planned hoax. Well, it’s gone on long enough. Get out of here at once or I shall call security!”

“My, my. It seems that being Minister implies the assumption of being able to order everyone around, don’t you think, Severus?”

“Indeed. Well, shall we get down to business? I don’t particularly want to prolong this anymore than necessary.”

“It was you two who killed the other Minister wasn’t it?!” the Minister cried. “Help! Someone!”

Silencio!” said Lucius.

With shock, the confused Muggle opened his mouth but no words came forth; it was as if someone had removed his voice.

“Stop pratting around and get on with it, Lucius!”

“Very well,” he sighed pointing his wand at the Muggle’s chest. “Avada Kedavra”

“No!” the old Auror cried.

“Don’t worry, Minister, it’s your turn now,” Snape said, levelling his wand at the prone man.

“What are you hoping to accomplish with these atrocities?!”

“You misunderstand us, Minister. We are only pawns on a chess set: we follow our Master’s orders and wait for the end of the game.”

“Then fight for us! Why all these innocent lives?! This way you will achieve nothing!”

“And what has the Ministry achieved?” Snape sneered “Fudge spent all his time and effort making people believe everything was perfectly normal…and you: you are no better! You have been taking useless measures to give the citizens false hopes. You disgust me,” he declared bitterly.

The Minister of Magic knew there was no chance he would escape with his life, and taking a slow breath he looked up into the eyes of his killer; even after the green light, after his heart had stopped beating, his unwavering gaze was that of pity.

*****


Upon returning to his Manor, Lucius did not think once of his son, nor of Hermione, and after a small nightcap retired to his rooms, where he gave in straight away to the physical and mental exhaustion that had built up during the day. Many hours later, around midmorning, he awoke feeling much better for his rest. He summoned Pisky to bring him something to eat. The trembling elf reappeared moments later with a teapot and some cold meat sandwiches. As soon as he felt sated, his thoughts trailed back to his female “guest”.

With all of his other engagements, he had yet to see her since that eventful night. He was, of course, certain that she was as well as could be, given the circumstances. After all, he’d given his servants the explicit order to make sure she had anything that could make her feel better. The only other problem would have been Draco, but as the boy had been in a pitiful state even before he had apparated him back to the Manor, he couldn’t have been a threat to her.

Actually, with the Lestrange’s arrival he had not yet had the chance to see the girl properly, nor repay her for her defiance at that now distant breakfast, though he hardly thought now was the time to do so… The girl will now feel even more targeted and victimised than before…I had intended to make her fall for me, before I had my fill; and this with that idiotic woman’s meddling will prove to be harder than I expected, if not downright impossible. To be perfectly frank, if I don’t do something soon she will become ever more mistrusting, and though I can’t say that taking her by any means disturbs me, it does render pointless keeping her alive…However…could it be that I could turn this whole ghastly mess to my advantage? After all, one could almost say I rescued her… His thin pale lips curled into a smile of triumph, before he stood up and started to get dressed.

A short time later, he was observing his reflection in the large mirror in his bedroom, not wanting to appear overdressed, but still manage to show all of his charm and grandeur. It had taken a while, but he could not say he was disappointed with the result: black trousers and leather boots, a white shirt, the first few silver buttons open, displaying some of his alabaster flesh. Picking up a black velvet robe he put it on leaving it unfastened. Taking one final look he left the room, heading to his dark friend’s quarters.

He knocked on the door but received no reply or any faint sign that he had been heard.

“He must be in the dungeons working on something,” he sighed before apparating.

Sure enough, he found Snape bent over some parchment, jotting notes down while stirring a bubbling cauldron over an azure flame.

“Good Morning, Severus,” he greeted.

“I would hardly call it ‘morning’, Lucius,” he quipped without looking up. “That would have been a few hours ago. Some of us cannot afford such a leisurely life style.”

“I see you have awoken with the same foul mood as yesterday, and all the days previously I’m sure. You should try and enjoy yourself more, find something to occupy your time apart from brewing potions every day.”

“It so happens I enjoy brewing potions…and since when are you concerned with my happiness? It has never mattered before. In any case, have you come to disturb me for an important reason or am I to once again serve as a pitiful sacrifice to your all encompassing need to be entertained?”

“I actually came to ask if you had a hair-growth potion.”

“Goodness, Lucius! Surely you don’t want anymore hair?!” he snorted.

“Don’t be absurd: As if I would need a potion for that. It’s for the girl.”

Snape finally stopped what he was doing and looked up to face the blond. “Did I hear you correctly? For the girl, you say?”

“Well, Bellatrix did give her a rather unflattering cut, didn’t she? I just thought she may feel better if she could grow it back.”

After a few seconds of observing him with lifeless black eyes, Snape said softly, “That is what one would call a good deed, Lucius.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as-”

“And you know perfectly well, there is no such thing as a selfless good deed, don’t you?”

“If you say so,” he answered with a smile.

“In the cabinet behind you, second shelf, the purple phial,” he said before returning to his work.

“Thank you,” he said picking up said phial. “By the way, Severus. Your assistance, I take it, is also very far from being a selfless good deed.”

“I never said anything to the contrary,” he replied, still concentrating on his parchment. “If you have finished, could you kindly leave before I hex you?”

“Very well,” he answered as he disapparated from the dungeons to the corridor that led to Hermione’s room. Walking the last feet to the door, he swept a stray lock of his silvery hair into place before knocking.

“Who is it? Is that you, Blinky?” He heard from behind the polished wood. Taking that as a sure sign she was awake, he opened the door and stepped inside. She was sitting on the windowsill, clad only in a white dressing gown, and had been looking out into the gardens. She turned to see who her visitor was, and he noticed with some annoyance that her expression darkened after recognizing him.

“Good Morning, Miss Granger. How are you feeling today?”

After staring at him for a while she replied, “I suppose I feel as anyone else would in such a situation.”

“I trust your arm has healed,” he enquired.

“Yes, it has,” she answered shortly.

“I am glad to hear it. Allow me to say that I did not intend for any of it to happen.”

Seeing she did not wish to respond, and knowing how stubborn she could be, he decided to take matters in hand.

“I suggest you take this potion,” he said softly, showing her the purple bottle, while walking steadily closer.

She raised an eyebrow incredulously. “I see you have abandoned all crafty subterfuges, and now intend to get me to ingest something directly. How pitiful.”

“I would watch my tongue, if I were you, my dear. Especially when it would be to no one’s advantage, save your own: this potion is for your hair. I see you’ve had some elf even off the ends, but still I think long hair suits you better. Here,” he said, placing the small phial on the coffee table.

“How do I know it’s not something else?”

“As you have brewed it yourself during your schooling, I should expect you can recognize the potion.”

Still she kept silent, observing him for any possible indication that it was yet another carefully plotted trap.

“Very well,” he said impatiently “If you wish, I will drink it, proving its true nature. Then I am afraid you will have to wait until Severus can brew some more, which could take days, as he is quite busy.”

He saw she weighing his words as carefully as the Potions Master weighs his ingredients in the apothecary.

“Alright, your loss,” he said, picking up the bottle.

“Wait!”

“Yes?” he asked smiling.

“Let me see the potion.”

Smirking as she snatched the phial from his open hand, he watched as she uncorked it and sniffed the substance. Taking one last look at his face, she downed the liquid. Instantly her brown hair began to grow, as the chestnut curls fell lower down her back, stopping just above her waist.

“There. Much better, don’t you think?”

Looking across the room to the mirror, she said quietly, “Yes.”

“No need to thank me. Anything else you require or fancy?”

“And you have the nerve to ask me?!” she shrieked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am your prisoner! What else can I desire but freedom?!”

“That wish I cannot grant you. Though you can hardly say I haven’t been trying to make your stay more pleasurable.”

“I have been locked in here for over a week! I am trapped in a golden cage!”

“A golden cage? How melodramatic… Though I have no intention of allowing you access to the grounds, I will try to show you something that may take your mind off your state as ‘prisoner’. I will wait outside the door while you get dressed into something more presentable. You have five minutes,” he said, checking his pocket watch before exiting the room.

He was wondering whether she would even consider accepting his offer. His doubts were answered when she stepped out in the corridor, changed but still mistrusting.

The House Elves had set out a very elegant knee-length black dress with a low cleavage, giving him an excellent display of her breasts, which clung to her body beautifully, and then flared out from the waist down.

Taking hold of her arm he apparated them in front of yet another door. Opening it for her, he stood back and ushered her in. Walking her past an armchair and table, he brought her to the railings of a balcony, so she could look down. Her gasp of surprise and marvel indicated exactly that she was once again in awe of her surroundings. Stepping close to her, he whispered softly in her ear,

“Welcome to the Hanging Garden.”


*****


He had apparated them to some other part of the Manor. Fearing some form of a repeat from the episode in the Library, she was not very inclined to enter. Despite being practically forced inside and determined not to enjoy herself, she could not help but gasp when her eyes recognized what was before them. She saw what appeared to be a garden, and noted with shock that everything seemed to be partially or entirely white, as if covered by an untimely frost or blizzard. She wrapped her arms around herself, waiting for the chills to reach her body. But none came. Surprised she opened her clenched eyes and looked around. True, all the plants were blanketed in white, but it was certainly not ice: it was blossom.

“Welcome to the Hanging Garden,” she heard him whisper softly, his breath’s fiery warmth sending cold shivers down her spine.

“B-but…” she stuttered, lost for words.

They were on what seemed to be the second floor, in an indoor garden of gargantuan proportions. Having recovered from the initial shock she was able to distinguish some of the plants. The room itself was octagonal, she realized as her eyes trailed to the ceiling which was a clear glass dome, crossed by what seemed like eight lead snakes that united in the very centre. The wall opposite the balcony where they stood, had a Magnolia and a white Cherry tree in the corners. Many symmetrical flowerbeds littered the floor, and though she was too distant to see each individual flower, she was certain it was a botanists dream come true. In the very centre of the room stood an onyx fountain, surrounded by white marble columns covered in white roses. From one length of the garden to the other was a form of elongated pond, complete with white water lilies and small moving white specs she couldn’t phantom they’re identity, that curled around the fountain. What made this indoor pond even more spectacular was the fact that it was the exact shape of a snake.

“I seem to have succeeded in distracting you,” he drawled, taking no pains to hide the smug tone in his voice.

She could only nod. It was at the same time the most beautiful and disturbing thing she had ever seen. The perfume alone was inebriating: so many different fragrances smothering her exquisitely.

“I noticed an empty food tray in your room, so I don’t think I can offer you anything for lunch. But maybe a dessert perhaps?”

“I thought I had made it perfectly clear I would refuse any food you offered me,” she stated simply.

“How sad. I however, will have something anyway. You may sit and watch,” he suggested, pointing to the emerald armchair with his cane, before walking over and sitting down. “Please.” He motioned to the other side of the silky chair.

Looking anywhere but at him, she noticed with surprise, that even here they were surrounded by white flowers, present in four symmetrical hanging baskets. She saw that the two furthest away had white orchids in them. And again, behind the armchair was a long flowerbed with so many different plants she couldn’t find a name for all of them. Taking a deep breath, she sat down as far away as possible, pushed back against the many cushions.

He chuckled at seeing her so diffident. Snapping his fingers, a crystal bowl of strawberries appeared, accompanied by a bottle of champagne and two flutes. At her accusing gaze, he smirked and said, “You never know: you may change your mind.”

“But I said-”

“Yes, yes. I heard you the first time, but it seemed almost impolite not to try and repeat the offer,” he explained while filling the two glasses. Raising his flute in an almost toast like fashion, he sipped it before placing it on the marble table. Reaching out he picked up a strawberry and slowly bit into it, closing his stormy grey eyes to better savour the sweet fruit, licking his lips afterwards to remove any trace of the red juice.

“Simply marvellous,” he crooned, continuing in an engaging tone, “From our own greenhouses. I must say this crop is the best by far.”

Taking yet another strawberry, he bit into it, to then sip his champagne, mingling both flavours in his mouth. “This is the absolute best way to savour them. Champagne, you will find, accompanies their natural sweetness in the most delightful manner.”

Her eyes went from the alluring red berries to his face, while he continued his small feast. She watched intently as after each bite, the juice lingered on his pale lips, before he licked or sucked them clean. What infuriated her more was that she was well aware he was trying to seduce her in some fashion. One simply could not put on such a display unintentionally. It all fit into place: the small means of gaining her trust, which consisted of the harmless potion, leading her to the most spectacular garden imaginable, eating in the most indecent manner… It all led her to the one plausible conclusion.

Averting her gaze from him she looked at what she could see of the garden from her seat.

“Are you sure you won’t try just one?” he asked. “Pick whichever you wish. I’ll even eat half of it to prove its innocence,” he smirked.

“Look,” he said, picking up a particularly large one, “I’ll have half,” giving her a particularly heated gaze as he bit into it. “You take the other,” he said handing it out to her. Sighing, she took it from his fingers, and popped it into her mouth.

She had to admit, it was the most delicious strawberry she had ever tasted.Very sweet, yet not exceedingly so.

“Not so bad was it?”

She shook her head.

“I suppose your garden is completely white to symbolize your blood purity, is that not so?”

“How perspicacious, Miss Granger.”

She didn’t acknowledge his subtle compliment, instead voicing another thought. “And its autumn, yet many plants are in full bloom, despite the fact they should flower only in spring.”

“In this garden, my dear, it is perennial spring. The flowers will always be in bloom, and they will never die. An incantation was placed on this room, when it was first built; and so it will always be, exactly as it was those many centuries ago. Our own Garden of Eden. Now, would you care for another strawberry?”

Pausing a moment to search for any unusual sensations in her body, and having found none, she accepted.

“Please have another, have as many as you like for that matter. Try some champagne with it next.”

“No, thank you. I don’t drink,” she replied, selecting another strawberry.

“Such a good girl,” he blandly remarked, filling his glass.

“It is my decision to make.”

“You should have realized a while ago that many of your decisions do not count while in this house.”

“That I’d noticed,” she replied coldly.

“You hurt my feelings,” he said mockingly.

“That’s strange. I didn’t think you had any, Mr. Malfoy,” she retorted.

“That is where you are wrong, my dear. I feel as much as any man, sometimes even more. It all depends on the emotions in question. I very much enjoy feeling.”

She was in the process of swallowing when he emphasized this last word, which resulted in her choking.

“You see,” he continued eyes aflame, impervious to her discomfort, “I adore the feel of a woman’s flesh. The soft touch of her lips…”

She hurriedly wiped away the red juice that lingered on her mouth.

“You’ve missed some,” he said leaning forward. “Right here.” He stroked her bottom lip lightly with his thumb. Her breath caught in her throat at such an intimate gesture, making her mouth quiver. She pulled away when she felt him touch her tongue.

“It is you, Miss Granger, who seems to avoid feeling.”

“I-I do nothing of the sort,” she stammered.

“Have another,” he said, gesturing toward the bowl. “But you do. How is it that a girl, granted of denigrating origins, yet possessing enough beauty to belie such a flaw, may reach the age of eighteen and remain a virgin? How many men had you allowed to touch you before me?”

She blushed furiously. “I did not allow you to do anything! Had it been for me I would never have gone near you.”

“But as I said before: your decisions count very little in this house. As that is the case why not let yourself go? Your conscience is clean. I am the ‘monster’ who forced you. Why not feel what you have been craving but have never had the nerve to experience? Why live in constant denial?”

“Does the word morality mean nothing to you?!”

“You are so naïve. Anyone who talks about morality only wishes to be immoral: They deny themselves, afraid of giving in to what they relish. They want nothing more than to be devoured by the dark passions that feed their dreams.”

“I believe in love! Had it not been for you I could have given myself completely, body and soul, to the one I love!”

“Love is just an ideal. It does not truly exist. And regarding giving the one you love your body and soul, do you believe he would be giving you the same? Can you honestly say you were to be his first?”

“That is none of your business!”

“For that it’s not yours either, but answer me all the same. I take it you’re speaking of the Weasley brat.”

“Ron cared for me a lot!”

“Why speak in the past tense? Do you doubt he cares for you still? Do you think he could not care for you all the same, even though your honour was stolen from you?”

“Enough!” she cried, tears forming in her eyes.

“Please, forgive me. Maybe I was speaking out of place. Or maybe my words strike you so because they sound like the truth.” He smiled, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Have you never felt the heat of passion coursing through your body while gazing at someone? Desire inflaming your veins?”

Her cheeks burned red. “Why ask such a thing? This also is none of your business! I could only feel like that with someone I love.”

“I don’t believe it. It would defy your being human.”

“Then I’m not human!” she snapped. “Maybe Mudbloods really are inferior!”

“I wouldn’t say that was the case,” he replied, edging closer to her ever so slightly. “I think I’ve told you once before that Muggles can be lovely whores.”

“I am not subject to unbridled lust! It must have meaning. Otherwise it’s just the senseless rutting of animals amongst the bushes!”

“But it does have meaning. The most important of all: Pleasure,” he purred moving even closer, trailing his fingers along her arm.

“Stop it!” she pleaded.

His mind was flooded by images: memories of a candlelit bathroom, the suffocating smell of roses, soft wet skin, but most of all the fire burning in her eyes that had betrayed her. He smirked at her while sipping his cold champagne. “Here, have another,” he said, holding out a strawberry.

“I don’t want another! I would like to go back to my room.”

“One last one. I promise.” His icy eyes boring into hers. “Just one.”

She took it from his hand and turning around to avoid his heated stare, she started without swallowing. “There now can I-”

Her words were cut off however when he claimed her mouth, forcefully opening hers. The invasion of his tongue brought with it a cold rush of champagne. He released her while she swallowed.

“I told you it tasted better.” He grinned, his hands still holding her arms firmly.

“Let me go! Let me go to my room! You promised!”

“No, my sweet. I promised you it was the last fruit. You should listen more carefully. Now I’m rather curious, and feel like conducting an experiment.”

“A-an experiment?! B-but-” she stammered.

“I find it hard to believe that anyone, and I mean anyone, could possibly deny pleasure for pleasure’s sake. I wish to put you to the test.”

He took both her wrists in one hand, while gripping her chin in the other. Licking his lips, he leant down and placed his on hers. It was gentler than before, but no less demanding. Pushing his tongue inside he started to caress the warmness of her mouth. His free hand leaving her chin, to move to the back of her neck pulling her towards him. He continued to make love to her mouth, dominating her feeble resistance. He finally pulled back, leaving her panting for breath and leaning against the back of the chair for support.

Smirking at her flushed face and accusing eyes, he went for her neck. Moving the newly grown ringlets aside he blew on the sensitive skin, before he licked it, kissing it lightly. His free hand flew to her thigh, caressing it. Opening his mouth he latched on to her throat, sucking it till it was tender and pink.

“Are you still feeling nothing, Miss Granger?” He asked, voice husky and deep.

“S-stop, let me go,” she managed to reply before he kissed her again. Her head was becoming extremely light, and her whole body was shaking.

He let go of her wrists, sure that at this point she was not able to fight anymore, his left hand going to the small of her back while his other continued to stroke her thigh, with every stroke creeping slightly higher.

“It seems the marks I had left you a few days ago have already disappeared. I must make some new ones,” he mused, going back to sucking her neck.

The insistent feeling of his hot tongue on her neck, massaging, probing her tender flesh, his hot breath caressing her softly, broke down any thoughts of resistance. Sensations flooded her, drowning her in the sweetness of it all. Warmth slowly creeping through her veins, until she could take it no longer: all arguments forgotten, she let a slow moan escape her lips.

“Aha, I think I have obtained something here,” he whispered smugly. “Do you still insist on not feeling? Do you still deny the pleasure gripping your limbs?” His cold voice, full of passion, was driving her insane. Though nothing more than a whisper she felt it clench her, feeding the heat; her legs trembled, and she was glad she was sitting.

“Y-you’ve drugged me again!” she cried, voice shaking. “I-I can’t otherwise…” She whimpered slightly, as his fingers climbed still higher.

“No drugs this time. Nothing can inebriate more than this.” He kissed her again, stroking her tongue, coaxing it slowly to move against his.

“I w-would never intentionally…” she panted breaking away from him.

“Rationality loses its place where instincts are concerned.”

“No…this is wrong.”

“Doesn’t that excite you more?” he purred, his right hand moved to her breasts, squeezing them gently. Her only reply was a soft moan.

Her partially open mouth, begged him for more contact, and he happily obliged. His hands never stopping their delicious torture; his left hand neglecting her aching core, just tracing tantalizing circles on her flesh.

“Tell me: is this not pleasure?” Her eyes closed in response, trying to block out his sensual, hypnotizing voice. “You can’t defeat it, Miss. Granger. Let yourself be dominated by it. Let it wash over you, leaving you trembling in it’s wake. You yearn for release. You need release.”

“E-enough…”

He trailed his finger over the side of her lace panties, slowly, very slowly, creeping underneath, feeling her heated flesh, until he finally reached her wet centre, driving a finger easily inside.

“Do you still wish for me stop?” he asked adding a second finger, while his thumb stroked her clit. “Do you still deny the pleasure?” he purred. “Or do you want more?”

“More!” she gasped, arching her back.

“Are you sure? I could stop now. Follow your previous requests,” he continued, never stopping his thrusting. “Wouldn’t it be best to leave you less tainted? Purer: an innocent girl untainted by passion?”

“N-no,” she moaned, gasping as he added a third finger, stretching her, thrusting deeper. “D-don’t leave me like this!”

“But is this what you want?”

“Yesssss,” she hissed as her inner walls started to clench, throbbing around his fingers. She felt the fire burning in her, the knot that had been created in her stomach twist, until she was brought over the edge. As she screamed, warm liquid burst from her passion’s core before she fell, strength-less against his chest.

Removing his fingers and licking them clean, he picked her up, as if she weighed nothing, and sat her on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder while she tried to regain breath. Stroking her hair tenderly, he whispered,

“That, my dear, is the reason morality counts as nothing. Once it has been tasted, no one can resist this sweet torture any longer.”

She whimpered when he turned her head so that he could stare into her eyes. She saw the passion dancing in the icy orbs, and was falling into their depths. She didn’t look away as he leaned in to kiss her, neither did she refuse his tongue that circled with her own. She couldn’t quite place what she was feeling, but it was not an entirely unwelcome sensation.

After what seemed like hours, he let her go. Placing his hands beneath her legs, he picked her up and apparated back to her room, letting her go only when he was certain she could stand.

“I’m afraid I must leave you now; there are some things that need attending to. I must ask you to think carefully over what I can offer you. Also, I would like it very much if you did reconsider having meals with us. I hope to see you at dinner,” he said before turning his back and exiting the room. As soon as the door shut, she slumped to the floor.