Dirty Little Secret

Title: Dirty Little Secret
Rating: NC-17 all the way.
Pairing: LM/HG
Disclaimer: JKR and her merry band of lawyers own all. I am working to improve my writing only; believe me no one would be willing to pay for my writing skills. No copyright infringement intended.

Author’s Note: This entire story will have nearly every chapter rated NC-17 for some reason. This is not for kids, and not for those with issues with sex for pleasure. Please do not read if you are underage.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 2: Fantasies and Reality

Hermione appeared in front of the massive marble fireplace and nearly landed on her face. An arm jerked her up roughly and she was suddenly nose to nose with Lucius Malfoy. A thrill of fear raced through her and she reached for her wand. Grasping it, she raised it just as he pushed her away gently.

“A lady should be elegant enough to step out of an apparition or a fireplace, not stumble like a fool.” She gaped in disbelief.

“You grabbed me and disapparated with me! I was taken off guard, okay?”

“Miss Granger, you should never be able to be taken off guard like that. Your reflexes used to be much better. ”

He studied her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and the baggy clothing that tried to hide a rather curvy shape. Flashes of the defiant and fearless warrior she had once been came to mind, one that had now been tossed aside when their purpose had been served. He looked at her wand and smirked.

“You can put your wand down, only a Malfoy wand wielded by a Malfoy will work inside the manor.”

“I don’t believe you. Incarcerous!”

She waited, but no ropes emerged from the vinewood wand. In fact, nothing happened at all. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Suddenly, she jerked back, her spine forced straight and her shoulders back as though she were on a string.

“Ouch, you bastard! What are you doing?”

“I despise poor posture. It is the first sign of an inelegant upbringing. Stand up straight.”

He removed his cloak, handing both it and his walking stick to an elf and approached her. He held out his arm to her as if to escort her out of the room, and reflexively she slapped him across the face. He laughed, a full chuckle that was more amused than outraged. Her eyes widened, as though realizing what she had done.

“I take you away from that lecherous man and you slap me! Where was that verve when you were being poked and prodded like livestock and manipulated by Pegram? Or did you enjoy the humiliation? He is immensely proud to have the great Hermione Granger under his thumb; he speaks of it often. “ He taunted.

“Perhaps the great Harry Potter can come and save you; after all, without you he would have been dead and rotting instead of a celebrated hero. Or maybe Mr Weasley, the hero’s sidekick will ride to your rescue; after all, they both have Order of Merlin, First Class medals. “

She looked ready to cast any number of unforgivables. Or barring that, hitting him again. His jaw burned from the slap. Not satisfied, he continued his torment.

“Incidentally, what did the Ministry grace you with? What accolades did the esteemed Minister who you helped put in office see fit to bestow on the brains of the operation?” Her face flamed, and he knew he had struck a nerve. He knew the answer, but wanted to hear her say it.

“Nothing.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “I received nothing.”

Tears streamed down her face, and she tried not to cry out as she remembered the awkward apologies Harry and Ron had made, even as they gloried in their newfound fame. Eventually, they stopped answering her owls, and left their friend in obscurity as they partied with celebrities and were showered with gifts. Even years later, they were well -paid endorsers of various products. Meanwhile, she had to try to scratch out a living at a position far below her abilities, latent prejudice caused her blood status to still hinder her career.

“What is the lesson you’ve learned from your friends’ abandonment?”

Her bottom lip trembled. She would not give him the satisfaction of tears.

“Say it Miss Granger. Life’s. not. fair.”

“Stop it. “ She whispered. Her heart was breaking and she couldn’t breathe. In moments, Malfoy had sliced through years of internal armor.

“Life is what you make of it. There is no place for modesty in this world; if you don’t stand up, you will be trampled. The world should know Weasley didn’t destroy those Horcruxes; but you never refuted his claim. As a result, he is the celebrity spokesperson for a Charms research firm while you work filing paper and getting groped by idiots for a salary that barely covers necessities.

“I said stop it.” Her voice was becoming more frantic by the moment.

“Say it like you mean it, Miss Granger. Come over here and make me stop. Or do you enjoy me tormenting you? Pegram thinks I wanted you for my little slave, would you like to crawl over to me so you can kiss my boots? Do you think he is thinking of us fucking like animals while he rubs his tiny…”

An animalistic howl was wrenched from her throat as she lunged for him, but fell short and crumpled onto the ground. She screamed and cried and pounded her fists against the floor, throwing every curse she could think of, of course to no avail. It went on for several minutes, until she had reached her physical limits. Finally, she lay on the floor making pathetic little snuffles, exhausted from her emotional outburst.

Lucius walked over, scooped her tiny body up, carried her up the grand staircase to her rooms and pulled silk sheets over her still trembling form. Closing the door behind him, he descended the stairs. Ignoring the dinner set out for him, he walked into his library and poured a glass of scotch. Seating himself in front of the fire, he watched the way the firelight affected the caramel color of the alcohol, a color matched by Miss Granger’s eyes when she felt particularly righteous.

He needed to do it, he had needed to break her, he told himself. Only after she was broken could he rebuild her into a force to be reckoned with. And only after that could she stand by his side whilst they used their shared ruthlessness to reshape their world. Blood purity was losing importance in many circles, most accepted the move as inevitable as bloodlines faltered. If he was going to be a part of it, however, he would do it on his terms with the very best there was.

He had nearly two months before he would need her to be ready. Hardly enough time. They would need every moment to get her up to speed. Soon, she would be his goddess to claim as they dazzled the paparazzi and ripped the rug out from beneath the Ministry. Humiliating Potter and little Weasley would merely be an added bonus.

He sat in his chair for several hours as he pondered the next step by the light of a dying fire.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione sat at the breakfast table, pushing her tomato half around her plate disinterestedly. She had slept on and off, alternating between fury at being manipulated and a fear that the things that Malfoy had said about her weakness were true.

She hadn’t bothered to shower, and had deliberately ignored the closet full of robes to put on the same crumpled clothes she had worn the day before. After discovering that she had no way of escape, she had made her way down to what appeared to be the breakfast room. She looked around, the style and bright color scheme very different from the white and gold glittering rooms she had witnessed before her mini-breakdown the night before.

Before she could truly analyze the differences, she heard the tapping of a walking stick, her shoulders were again pulled back by the invisible cord. She turned to see an Lucius Malfoy, clad in finely woven dark gray wool robes closed with a jeweled clasp so ornate it was almost feminine stride to the table, speaking in hushed tones to the elf who had appeared in front of the table. He then turned to her.

“Good morning, Miss Granger.”

“Where am I? This doesn’t look like the manor.” He studied her for a minute, then answered.

“You are in the family rooms of the Manor. The formal rooms and ballrooms are for social functions and display, as it were. It is a common practice in ancestral maors. Narcissa and I could never have raised Draco in a home with all that glass and gilt. He was like a cyclone of destruction.”

Hermione tried not to grimace at the thought of a young Draco throwing priceless vases and statuary to the ground in an impressive fit of temper.

“Why won’t you just let me go?”

He stretched his hand toward the entrance he had come in from.

“You are free to leave at any time. Before you make a run for it, however, I would like to make you a rather… intriguing offer.”

She glared, alternating between staring at the entrance and Lucius’ hands, now folded neatly on the table. Finally, she sighed and attempted to relax back in the chair. Unfortunately, the invisible posture cord from hell wouldn’t allow her to slump as she had planned. Huffing with annoyance, she finally turned her attention to him.

“Miss Granger, tell me something. Why is it that despite your shapeless, frumpy attire, you always wear the most beautiful earrings? Often they are hard to see underneath the rat’s nest of frizz because they are so tiny, but they are always exquisite. Minute bits of elegance in an otherwise uninspired wardrobe. Why do you bother?”

Hermione gaped and self consciously touched her earlobes. She was wearing tiny facted blue topaz earrings shaped like tiny teardrops. When she had found them in the shop, she had purchased them immediately; the fact that she was reduced to eating cold cereal for dinner for an entire pay period was insignificant. They were gorgeous, and she always felt pampered even when she was stuck at work next to the malodorous Mr. Crowley. For her, they were one tiny reminder that she wanted more out of life than her boring cubicle of existence.

“How many insults did you manage to pad that one compliment with?”, she asked, her tone bitter. Even when he gave her a compliment, he had to be rude and obnoxious. Discovering he had no intention of answering her, she finally answered his original question.

“Despite what you may think of me Lord Malfoy, I quite like beautiful things.”

“Yet knowing that, you dress as though you were thirty years older than you are, and in colors that make you blend in with the furniture. It’s almost as though you are ashamed of your life…” his voice trailed off. He watched her face flame, and realized that he had gotten pretty close to the truth.

She stood, obviously intending to hurry out the door. Then, she sat back down and glared at him.

“What is your proposal?”

He studied her, imagining a long crimson silk gown pooling at her feet as she walked toward him. She wore nothing but the ancient Malfoy diamonds, her breasts swaying gently as she climbed onto his lap. She would lift his swollen cock out of his confining trousers and sink onto him….

“Lord Malfoy?”

He jolted back to the present, looked down the table to where she sat dressed in yards of crumpled cotton the color of mud. He made a mental note to have those clothes burned as soon as she took them off. Focusing on her question, he shifted in his chair willing himself to regain control as he took the time to choose his words carefully.

“Miss Granger, as I mentioned at the office yesterday; I wish to have a steady companion for social calendar this season. Of course, I have other options available to me; however, I wish to concern myself more with enjoying the season than worrying about finding companions with whom I can spend more than ten minutes with and not find myself yawning.

“I will admit that whilst under the influence of Voldemort, I found your blood status objectionable. However, I now realize that it is the power within the witch that attracts me more than her pedigree. You are refreshingly different than the previous witches I have escorted; you certainly have the best informed mind, and when you choose to spend more than a minute on personal grooming are quite striking. Any wizard would be proud to have you on their arm.”

She blushed and nibbled her bottom lip, a habit he found disturbingly erotic. Standing, she walked over and seated herself to his left; he smiled at the gesture.

“So, what do I get out of this, Lord Malfoy?”

“A chance to be a part of a world that you would never be exposed to otherwise for one. A wardrobe of couture robes and gowns, jewels, and publicity beyond your wildest dreams. I would, with your permission of course, hire tutors in etiquette and international customs. We will be traveling throughout Europe this winter, and I want you to feel as comfortable as possible in unfamiliar environments.”

She nodded.

“Would I work?”

He looked at her in disbelief.

“No. Tutoring and getting you ready will consume most of the next two months. You need to be able to blend in with women who were born into this life; make no mistake, this will be hard work.”

“I like the idea of traveling, but I’ve had enough of publicity after the war. Gowns and jewelry don’t impress me very much, although I can see where it would be necessary. Despite what you and Pegram may believe, not all girls have Cinderella fantasies.”

He snorted rather inelegantly and pushed away his now cold breakfast. Standing, he offered his arm to her, adjusting her grip until she was gently holding on. They left the breakfast room in silence, walking into the public rooms of the manor. Finally he broke the silence, his voice lower and huskier than before.

“You may not have Cinderella fantasies, but certainly you must have some fantasies you’ve always wanted to fulfill. Private fantasies you’ve never breathed a word of to anyone, things you’ve thought were too brazen or debauched. I can make them happen.”

At first, the usual fantasies came to mind: the feel of the warm sun on her back as they romped on a beach to the backdrop of crashing waves. Hours of lovemaking in front of a crackling fire in a ski chalet while a storm raged outside. The call of the birds as they coupled outside in a wooded glen; her cries urging him on as they engaged in nature’s most primitive act.

Then her mind turned a corner and she went into her more secret thoughts.
Feeling the hard wood beneath her as they writhed on the Minister of Magic’s huge desk or the rush of adrenaline as he took her from behind in a public park or even at a quidditch match. A hurried tryst in a busy changing room, or on a train surrounded by people.

Then the most secretive thoughts of all:
Four hands caressing her skin as she cried out in pleasure, filled in the most base of ways. Warm wax dripping onto her tender nipples as she lay blindfolded waiting for the next sensual delight. Feeling the sting and burn as metal pierced her skin, leaving behind jewelry that would be gently pulled during sex to arouse her already overstimulated nerves even further.

In the quiet of her own bedroom, the men had always been faceless, it was a scent or an emotion that the remembered as she tried to sate her own needs. Yet, in this recalling of her fantasies, it was pale skin that her fingernails dug into and she could feel that ridiculously soft skin as it trailed across her abdomen. She could feel the muscular arms she had sensed as they walked in the manor holding her up as she was pinned against a wall, or holding onto for support. Yes, he would do nicely. Not that she could ever tell him any of these things. I mean, what if he blabbed about them to everyone?

“Well, well Miss Granger. I can lodge no objections, although some of those may take some planning.”

Her face flamed as she looked at him, now seated in a chair in a massive library; she hadn’t even remembered walking there. She was seated in an identical chair, a navy colored velvet Queen Anne that was surprisingly comfortable. His words came back to her.

“You bastard! You went into my mind!”

She didn’t even know he had legilimens skills, although it didn’t necessarily surprise her. The man across from her always seemed to know when the time was right to make a move in the business world, always coming out on top. Even making the deal with Pegram had been done at a time when she had felt completely desperate and lonely. Why had she never realized this before?

“I merely wanted to see what delightful debauchery your inventive mind had cooked up. I am looking forward to getting started on them; I actually believe we can do most of them. As for your concerns of my being indiscreet, I give you my word Miss Granger. Whatever pleasures we may find with each other will always be kept private. After all, it won’t just be your fantasies we will be living.”

“Let me see your fantasies, Mr. Malfoy. I don’t fancy being gagged and passed around, if that is what you have planned.”

His playful tone vanished.

“Is that what you think of me? That I would use you as a plaything and humiliate you for my pleasure? I can assure you Miss Granger, that has never been a pastime of mine.” His voice was icy, and she flinched at the sharpness of it.

“Mr. Malfoy, I don’t have the slightest clue what you think. All I know is that I have only seen you at Pegram’s weekly … orgies for the past two years. Other than that, I have no idea what you’ve been doing since the war ended. I don’t really know you at all, sir.” Her shoulders were beginning to ache from the posture cord, and she began to massage them.

He stood again, taking her by the hand and leading her to an old fashioned fainting couch. With a muttered spell, the invisible cord vanished and she felt her shouders move forward, tiny spasms moving up and down her spine. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

I can massage you, Miss Granger. You will of course need to remove your blouse and camisole.”

She glared, fairly sure his extended use of the posture cord was to achieve exactly this situation. Hermione rolled her yes, then realized the only way Lucius would respect her was if she could take him off guard.

Her hands lifted to release the buttons when a spasm hit, radiating down her arms. His eyes were full of concern as he took over for her, sliding the hideous blouse down her arms. He drew in a ragged breath when he saw what was under the blouse.

“Miss Granger, this is virtually transparent.” Hermione grinned, remembering that pureblooded women wore mostly full coverage undergarments or none at all. Her lavender sheer bra hid very little; her dark nipples strained against the fabric and gave her cleavage a boost. Grinning as he fumbled with the front clasp, she wondered if he had ever seen a thong. The clasp gave under his touch, and her unbound breasts came into view.

“Magnificent” he breathed, clearly fighting his desire to touch them. Standing, she unfastened her skirt, and let it join her blouse on the floor. She turned away from him, revealing the tiny bit of fabric that constituted the entire back of the thong. She heard him hiss, and smiled before lowering the fabric down her hips.

She had found his weakness, and she fully intended to exploit it. HE may be the embodiment of power and control in public, but in private SHE would be in charge. Remembering that her dorm mates had been surprised by muggle grooming habits, she turned to face him, watching as he took in the neatly trimmed patch of hair she had uncovered.

His eyes were now a dark grey, pupils dilated and focused on her.

“Lord Malfoy, I believe it is only fair that you undress as well; I obviously am hiding nothing from you.” She reclined on the couch, her expression daring him to argue. He took in her painted toes and slightly parted legs, then got to work.

Moments later, he was nude in front of her. Hermione had been impressed with his pale, nearly hairless body. True, she preferred a bit of chest hair on her men, but the impressiveness of his other assets made up for it. She realized that he was mostly average in length, maybe a bit bigger than average, but he was thick and she realized that she was going to have to deal with some pain for a bit. He crawled up her body, latching onto her nipple with his teeth. She moaned, savoring the delicious suction before lifting his head and eyes to meet hers.

“Let me see your fantasies, milord. Show me what you desire.” The comment seemed impossibly pompous, but she was sprawled out in a library like something in a romance novel. He nodded, summoning a pensieve and a phial of swirling grey liquid. Emptying it into the bowl, he turned to face her.

“I thought you might want to see them.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The first thing that Hermione realized was that she was naked as she visited the memories, and was very glad no one could see her. It felt strange to be in a room naked while everyone else was wearing clothes.

The second thing she noticed was that her hair was much more tamed than in reality as memory Hermione energetically sucked his cock in a number of places: during a meeting with the Minister as she knelt under Malfoy’s desk, in the Top Box at a quidditch match (interesting, they both apparently went to those matches and thought of other things), on a rather public balcony in what appeared to be Venice and on a flying carpet at night above a desert city she didn’t recognize.

Memory Hermione watched as the memories sped up, feeling suction on her breasts again. She rolled her eyes; horny little bastard couldn’t even wait until she was finished with his fantasies.

She watched herself rub his thick cock at the opera, causing him to climax during the finale; watched as he buried himself in her in Snape’s potions lab, on the Headmaster’s throne like chair at Hogwarts, and in the very library they were sitting on, on the very couch they were now on in fact.

She looked on in disbelief as he took her every way possible, (assisted by Bill Weasley of all people) in a strange penthouse that was all windows overlooking Diagon Alley. She saw herself being taken at Flourish and Blotts, and even bouncing up and down on him as they rode on the Gringott’s carts.

She saw herself standing over him as he lay on the bed, chained. She had ridden him until he was exhausted, and then was now being roughly fucked by Professor Snape, watching herself moan as her skin was littered with bites and brought to a screaming climax.

Yes, his fantasies were far dirtier, but equally as exciting. It was the final one that made up her mind, though.

They were having sex on the Minister’s desk, another apparently shared fantasy, when she realized he was wearing the formal robes of the Minister of Magic. She was clad in the royal purple of the Wizengamot, the Chief Witch badge glinting in the candlelight. Their coupling wasn’t frantic, but loving and familiar. Plain bands that may have been wedding bands adorned their ring fingers.

This was why he wanted her. He’d apparently had fantasies about her for years, but he wanted her to help him (and herself apparently) gain power. He obviously wasn’t intimidated by a strong woman, and seemed to crave stability. This society season was going to be an odd sort of trial courtship for them, as they built their power base. Devious, and pure Slytherin.

Her vision went fuzzy, then cleared. She was back in the library, naked and on the fainting couch, her back an shoulders feeling much better. A bottle of massage oil sat on a nearby table, and she realized with a start that it was late afternoon. She had been in his memories for hours.

Malfoy appeared in front of her, still nude and carrying two glasses of scotch. Realizing she was finished with the memories, he placed the scotch on the worktable, and approached her. Reaching out, she poured some of the massage oil into her hand and gestured for him to sit down. When he followed her direction, she reached for his hardening member, the oil making the skin slick.

“You have a very naughty mind, Lord Malfoy.”

“Yes.” He actually flushed a bit pink, leaning forward to kiss her. She pulled away before he could distract her.

“ We will fulfill each other’s fantasies, I will be the woman on your arm and we will dazzle society together.”

“Yes. You will be in my bed, every night. You will only have another with my consent” he hissed as she leaned over and drew his sac into her mouth.

“The same goes for you, Malfoy. No little trysts or sneaking away to see a mistress.” She stroked him harder, setting a fast rhythm. He cried out.

“No, never another. Only you, my love. We will rule them all.”

She stood, straddling his spread legs and lowering herself slowly onto him. When she had spread herself and just the tip was in, she continued.

“You will go into Muggle London with me, and learn about things in my world, right?”

He nodded, and she lowered herself further. Her inner walls were stretching to accommodate him.

“Pegram and those like him will be exposed.”

He nodded, lost in the silken heat and trying desperately not to thrust more deeply into her.

“You’ll make sure I climax when we are together, no selfishness, right?”

He nodded again, and she grinned. He would have agreed to anything right about then. Deciding not to push him any further, she lowered herself until she was as far down as she could go, not used to his thickness. She rolled her hips and he cried out. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and she rolled them again.

“Fuck me, Lucius. Claim me, show me your power.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The first thrust made her feel like she would split apart. He bent over, pushing her into the pillows and causing her to grab the raised side for support. He wrapped her legs around him, rubbing her clit furiously as he thrust again, setting a hard punishing rhythm. Each thrust drove him deeper and deeper into her until he was bumping her cervix, sending frissons of pleasure through her.

This was what she needed; a man filling her and pressing his strong body against hers. Someone to protect her; someone for her to protect. Someone who would keep his promises. Magical energy crackled and swirled around them, getting ready to seal the agreement. Instinctively, she sunk her teeth into his shoulder. Howling with pleasure, he did the same.

Her climax hit her hard, tears running down her cheeks as her inner walls convulsed and she clutched him tighter. With a feral roar, he grabbed her buttocks, pounded into her faster and faster. Sweat dripped off his brow and he wiped at it, annoyed.

As she came down from her climax, she remembered his fantasy. This was not the position they were in, and she knew what he wanted.. Stilling his frantic thrusts, she slipped him out, and with a grin, turned her back. She wiggled her bottom at him and grabbed hold of the back of the side of the fainting couch for support.

This time, when he thrust, she had enough leverage to push back, sending him balls deep into her. Her juices were running down her thighs, and the different position brought him over her, his hand finding her clit once again.

Their pistoning bodies rocked together, Lucius muttering words she had never heard from his mouth before as his climax built. She moaned and sighed as she urged him on. For several minutes there was nothing but the slap of skin on skin and heavy breathing. Finally, he sat back, grabbed her hips and slammed her back, virtually impaling her. Once, twice, three times.

His climax came with a growl, his seed bathing her tender walls. She cried out as a second orgasm hit her, milking his cock and drawing out a moan. Magical energy hit like a lightning strike, causing their pleasure to spiral for several seconds as it enveloped them both.

When they both came aware again, he had collapsed on top of her. Realizing she probably couldn’t breathe, he reached down for his wand, then apparated them to his large, silk covered bed.

She opened her eyes. “Are you okay?”

He chuckled, rolling her onto her back and kissed her deeply.

“That was fucking fantastic.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had exploded like that. Not with Narcissa; she had banned him from their bed two years before the divorce. Not that they had the most spectacular sex life anyway, but still. The women he had sex with after the divorce were little different from Narcissa. Glancing over at Hermione, he smiled.

Her hair was impossibly frizzed, she had several bite marks on her shoulders and chest. Her skin was flushed and he could see fingertip shaped bruises on her hips. Yet, he couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful when she turned those doe eyes onto him.

His Gryffindor goddess had been full of surprises, taking him off guard and showing a level of sexual confidence he had no idea she possessed. Not to mention the way she had gotten him to agree to interact with muggles: Slytherin to the core. He was becoming more smitten by the moment.

A loud, gurgling growl drew his attention. Hermione moaned in mortification, and covered her face with a pillow. It had been ages since she had eaten, and she would need to keep up her strength. For that matter, so would he.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Coming up next: Lessons begin.