The Wedding - COMPLETE

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Updated 4-2-07

I want to thank all my reviewers for the many thoughtful replies and insights you bring to this story. I kiss your feet (metaphorically speaking - I do NOT have a foot fetish... but I think this Lucius might).

999 I'm missing your "Harbingers of the Plague". It disappeared. I was hooked on your story and the writing and characterizations were superb. I hope it reappears. Your Lucius was dazzling and Hermione was slowly learning to take his measure. My withdrawal pangs hurt. Have mercy and bring it back. Please?

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Lunch was a refreshing change but I'm afraid we're all returning immediately to the lemon grove. Enjoy!

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Chapter Twenty


Excaliber


Hermione arrived home midafternoon to a quiet house. She asked an elf where her husband was and was told he was in the garden. She went to her bedroom and changed into one of her Muggle sundresses and apparated out to the garden to see what Lucius was doing. She looked several places before finally finding him, or rather his feet, under the broken cistern that had given him trouble before. “Lucius, didn’t the contractor fix that?”


She heard a muffled “Ouch! Dammit!” as a hollow bong sounded from the cistern. Lucius squirmed out from under the large metallic drum holding his forehead. “Did you have to sneak up on me like that?”


“Why are you doing that at all? Are we having trouble with the contractor again?” Hermione backed up as Lucius stood up and ineffectually tried to brush the dirt from his clothes. She noted that he had basically ruined a good dress shirt and wool trousers playing Mr. Fixit. She hid a smile. His hair was neatly tied with a black ribbon but the back of his hair was matted with mud. “Lucius, let me help you.” She got out her wand, but was forestalled by Lucius who shook his head.


“I’m just going back under there so it’s useless to clean me up, Hermione.” He wiped his face and unwittingly deposited a streak of mud on his aquiline nose. “The contractor wants to dig up this entire section of garden to replace all the pipes and the cistern. Unfortunately, I think he’ll have to do it.” Lucius sighed with regret, “This old cistern has been transfigured one too many times. I just need to make sure it’s necessary before I let him ruin years’ worth of plantings. Some of this garden has been here for more than a hundred years. I really hate to lose them.”


“Can’t they be transplanted elsewhere? They don’t have to be just torn up, do they?” Hermione was starting to see why Lucius was so interested in this part of the garden. He cared a great deal about his family’s heritage and his estate – far more than she did, even if she was now a co-owner. Her respect for her husband took a giant leap upward. She’d never seen him anything else but perfectly attired – except for when he was naked. She paused to enjoy that delightful thought. His muddy look was starting to appeal to her. He looked more human, more lovable and unexpectedly sweet to her in his dirty dishevelment. His caring for his property was seductive in its own way, too. Hermione decided to sit down and keep him company while he worked. She got a little perk right away watching him shimmy those narrow male hips back under the cistern.


As she sat, she pondered. First, she needed to get Lucius some casual clothes. He was made for jeans and a tee shirt and she knew she’d be drooling if he ever wore anything like that. Then her analytical, inquiring mind took over and she had an idea. “Lucius,” she called.


“What now? I’m busy here, Hermione.” Lucius’ voice drifted from under the cistern.


“In your estate records, are there any schematics of the ancient piping systems set into the grounds of the gardens?” She went on, “If there are, we could figure out just where the pipes need to be dug up, and probably we could save most of the plants.”


Lucius squeezed out from under the cistern again and stood up, looking at her in astonishment. “Did I ever tell you that I love your intellectual prowess? How on earth did you think of that? That’s phenomenal.” Lucius grabbed Hermione while he talked, lifting her and spinning her around before letting her down again. “It’s possible there are some old records of the piping system in the library. You may have just saved my plants. Er, our plants. Anyway, thanks. I can’t fix the cistern and I’ve been sick about all these plants being ripped out.”


He belatedly remembered his dirt and saw Hermione now had the front of her sundress spotted in mud. When she just smiled at him he let out a relieved breath. She wasn’t angry at the mud. Amazing. Had he ever known a woman who didn’t mind mud on her nice dress? He smiled back and said, “I apologize for wrecking your dress. Please feel free to use any of my accounts to buy a new one.”


“Oh, don’t worry about the dress. It’s entirely washable. The mud will easily come out. Shall we check on the records now? I think this is rather exciting, using ancient records to pinpoint your pipes.” Hermione was in her element and she reached for Lucius’ hand to pull him toward the mansion.


Lucius said, “Perhaps we can clean up first? It won’t take long.”


Hermione gave a mock scowl, “It will if you plan on taking a shower anywhere around me. I’m still half-snockered from too much wine at lunch.”


“Well, please do keep that thought. I want to make certain we actually have those schematics first, then I’m all yours.” Lucius leered playfully at his wife, but started moving them toward the French windows on the terrace. As Hermione passed him and started walking to the mansion, Lucius noticed that there were two large dirt handprints on the back of her dress. Ah, well, she had assured him the dress was washable so she probably wouldn’t care about those marks either. Actually they looked rather sexy and Lucius wondered if he was going crazy, being attracted to muddy handprints. But the marks established his ownership in a sort of primal way. He shook his head, laughing at himself. Those marks paled next to the buttfucking he’d given his little wife. Yet the handprints were given in innocent joy. Somehow that made a difference. Lucius felt warmed by his relief and thankful that Hermione had such a scholar’s bent or his garden plantings may have been destroyed. Schematics first, then he was definitely going to find out just how drunk his wife still was.


The schematics took a little while to find but they were complete and showed that nearly none of Lucius’ ancient plantings would need to be uprooted. The pipes had followed the gravel paths, being set underneath them. Lucius was ecstatic and profoundly grateful to his wife. When he was satisfied with the positions of all the pipes and the necessary repairs that could be planned, he turned his attention to his better, if slightly muddy, half. “Time to get clean, precious.”


“Omigosh, you called me precious.” Hermione was thrilled.


“So? I’ve called you that before.”


“You call me Hermione in normal circumstances. You call me Granger when you’re angry with me. But you only call me precious in bed. Today, you’ve called me precious in the library and I’m all over mud. You’re not following your pattern.”


“I am if I’m planning on using that library table for having you. I want us to get clean and then come back here.”


“Oh, no! Absolutely not! I’m not putting on a peep show for all your misbegotten relatives. Look at them. A more degenerate bunch I’ve never seen.” Hermione swept her hand around the room. Lucius looked where she had pointed and saw what she meant. Dozens of portraits of Malfoys from various bygone ages were all avidly following his ‘private’ conversation with his wife, “I see what you mean. I mostly forget about them. So - clean and my bed again.” A chorus of disappointed voices came from the walls. Lucius spoke above the cacophony, “I thought the library table would be a good place for a celebration of sorts, but you’ve changed my mind. Although I should point out they’re your relatives now, too.” He reached over and grasped Hermione’s wrist. “Come with me, precious. We need a bath.”


Lucius whisked them both to his bedroom, and he started stripping the moment he arrived; when Hermione wasn’t fast enough, he used his wand and stripped her too. “Come on, then. We have a bath to run.”


“A bath? We aren’t taking a shower? I didn’t see a bathtub in your bathroom.” Hermione tagged along behind her husband as he swiftly strode through his bathroom door. She saw that he kept on walking until he reached another almost hidden panel door, which he opened with a flourish.


“Your bath awaits, milady. Move your arse. My hair is getting stiff from the mud and it feels wretched.” He went on through the door and waited for Hermione, after which he shut the door to keep the warm air in. He pulled the ribbon out of his hair and tried to separate the strands, but the mud had solidified all along the back and he only managed to spread the mud chips on the floor. His wand took care of the mess on the floor, but Lucius was in a hurry to get into some water so he abandoned his efforts and went over to the giant tub spa.


Hermione gazed at the very sumptuous bathing room. It was definitely a Slytherin household if the bath was any indication. The area was adorned in green marble, tub, floor, and part of the walls. Spacious benches lined two walls, made of either black marble or onyx, Hermione couldn’t tell which. The overhead lighting was diffused along the tops of the walls making the atmosphere inviting if green marble could be called inviting. High windows let in indirect late afternoon sunlight through jalousies, making the whole greenish room look a little like they were underwater.


The rest of the walls not covered in marble were all mirrors. Hermione could see herself from every angle. True to the female ego, she wasn’t very pleased to see her entire nude body in so many views, but she thoroughly enjoyed seeing Lucius in those mirrors. Even all muddy. Maybe especially all muddy. She watched him wave his wand at the giant spa and it filled with hot water and loads of bubbles. Now that looked inviting. She drew close to the spa and swished her hand in the water and bubbles, feeling the temperature.


“I’ll keep the temperature the same while we bathe so you don’t get chilled. If it suits, hop in. I’m getting cold trying to be a gentleman here.” Plus he was beginning to get a hard-on, which he would like to submerge in the suds before it was spotted by his wife. He turned toward a mirror and froze. He hadn’t really looked at himself when he came in and he was shocked at his appearance. “Sweet Goddess, why didn’t you tell me I had mud on my face?” He swished some water from the spa and began scrubbing at his nose.


Hermione giggled, “I did try to help if you remember, but I admit I’ve been enjoying your smutty nose. You looked so cute.” She slipped into the deliciously warm water and relaxed on an underwater bench, playing with some bubbles and making little hills.


“You think a muddy nose is cute?” Lucius lost no time in sliding into the spa water himself and floating near her to the underwater bench. He tipped his hair back until it was submerged entirely under the water and began vigorously rubbing it to loosen the mud. “Now why did it never occur to me to spread wet dirt on my face to be more attractive?”


“More attractive to whom? Is there actually a witch in England who doesn’t find you attractive already?” She began attaching bubbles to her breasts, designing a soap bikini top.


Lucius stopped scrubbing his chest a moment to spuriously reflect, “No, I don’t think so. If my muddy nose has done it for you, then I believe that’s everyone.” He got a punch in the arm for his smug attitude. “As I now know the secret to making myself attractive to you, the only problem is going to be leaving enough dirt in the garden for the plants. Are you especially fond of the muddy nose look or shall I experiment with my chin and forehead too?”


“Why Lucius, what a lovely compliment. You would use up all your dirt just for me? I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Hermione batted her eyelashes in a bogus simper and began washing her legs, stretching each one in the air as she dragged her hand down its length. Then she reapplied more froth to her soapy bikini top as the bubbles were dissipating.


“Ugh, sweet? I don’t do sweet. You can take your pick from sarcastic, sly, sneaky, or,” he winked, “sexy, but not sweet.” He watched Hermione’s efforts at fashion design for a few seconds, then leaned forward and blew her sudsy bra away. “There, that’s much better.”


“Hey!” Hermione pouted, then she avenged her lost soap top, saying, “DEFINITELY sweet. Possibly even downright syrupy.” She reached out and gave Lucius a bubbly beard. “There, that’s much better,” she mimicked him. “You know, I think what I’d really like is the muddy dick look. Maybe we can go back out to the garden after dinner and test out that theory. You can smear it on and I’ll give my opinion.”


“You mean the muddy ding-dong look, don’t you?” Lucius chuckled as he wiped his donated beard off his chin. “I very much fear you will never hear the end of that one, my dear.” Then he taunted playfully, “I’ll have to tell Severus.”


“Don’t you dare, you…you…you dirt gardener. Or I’ll tell Ginny about your new black vibrator.” Hermione closed her eyes, childishly triumphant at besting her husband’s teasing threat and beginning to wash her own hair. Suddenly she got a face full of warm water. Her eyes snapped opened and she sputtered, “No fair!” She grinned and briskly sluiced a handful of water into Lucius’ face in retaliation, but was soon outmatched by his superior firepower. His snitch-catching speed helped him generate so many waves of liquid in Hermione’s face that she finally cried, “I Give Up, I Give up!” She rolled onto Lucius and captured his arms to keep him from drowning her.


Lucius pulled her onto his lap and captured her mouth with his, nibbling on her lower lip until she opened up, then he slipped his tongue into her moist cavity and soon was investigating her back molars by touch. He drove his fingers through her wet hair increasing the pressure of his lips on hers as he devoured her. Her little arms sneaked around his neck and she held on breathlessly because his hands were never still, roaming from her back around to her front and covering her breasts with his fingers. He plucked at the crests, pinching, then soothing, then pinching again.


One hand slid down her belly to her mound and parted her, finding her sensitive nubbin and proceeding to work it over, escalating his rhythm until Hermione was mewling and quivering with need. Lucius stopped sucking her tongue to purr, “Let go precious, let me see your pleasure. I love how you make those little noises in your throat. Come for me, precious, come for me now!” He pressed deeper and Hermione fell apart with a scream that Lucius swallowed with his mouth over hers.


He soothed her hair back from her face, slowly rinsing the rest of the soap out and he crooned seductively to her as she lay panting in his arms, “You make me so hard, I want to be inside you so much, precious. So beautiful, so sexy, so snockered, so mine.” Lucius reached back to the edge of the spa for his wand and dipped the tip into the water. Instantly it cleared of all the bubbles and soap and all the mud particles that had fallen to the bottom.


Hermione looked at Lucius sleepily, sated for the moment, “You cleaned the water?”


“And warmed it again. I want it comfortable when we make love and I don’t want to cram any dirt or soap up inside you when I take you.” So saying he turned Hermione’s body around on his lap and settled her facing him with her knees on either side of his hips.


She was happy to snuggle into his body as he lifted her and found her entrance with his cock. “Please, I want it all, every bit; drive it all the way up from my pussy into my throat. Then I can suck on it while you fuck me.” Hermione wiggled lasciviously onto his bulging erection as she prettily begged again, “Please?” She moaned, “I need you, need you, need you,” and she licked his chin, and then gently bit it, still wiggling on him. “Do you like to hear me beg, Lucius?” She petted his chest and lightly scratched over his male nipples, nuzzling his pecs when she felt him jump from her fingernail attack.


Lucius sighed in pleasure, “Definitely snockered,” as he grabbed her thighs and with one tremendous surge, planted himself so deeply she felt like he’d indeed found her throat. All she could do from then on was make inarticulate, lilting moans and sobs while Lucius thrust to the back of her channel on each stroke. He finally replied sideways to her question about begging, “Just consider this the story of the sword in the stone. No one is going to pull me out of you. Ever. Beg me all you like.”


Hermione gasped, then giggled, sticking her tongue in Lucius’ ear. “Who wants them to?” Then she groaned, “Ewww, I just remembered who did pull the sword out.” They both looked at each other in dismay.


Lucius soon surmounted that slight drawback and rammed into Hermione harder and harder, egged on by her to erase that unpleasant thought as they rode each other to sexual oblivion. At the last moment, Lucius pressed his little finger into Hermione’s butt rosette, sending her screeching into another climax right on top of the one they’d just shared. Lucius profited from Hermione’s wet channel squeezing the life out of his tool.


They slumped together onto the underwater bench, languidly petting each other and murmuring their pleasure in each other. After a few minutes Hermione looked down into the water and scoffed with glee and an unwise disregard for her own safety, “Well that certainly doesn’t look like much of a sword right now. More like a big flobberworm.”


“If you’re able to make those kinds of comments, you’re obviously not finished with your orgasms yet.” He lifted his little witch-wife up onto the wide edge of the spa and sat her there, holding her thighs down and apart as he lowered his face to her wet crotch. He began laving her delicate, pink folds, snaking his arms around her waist so she couldn’t move.


“Lucius, not again. I can’t bear it. I’ll go mad. Please, Lucius.” She tried to drag his head back by his hair but she didn’t want to really hurt him and he knew he had the advantage.


He buried his tongue in her sheath, sipping her creamy nectar and the remnants of his own juices, humming deep in his throat so the vibrations would stimulate her sensitive petals. He did it until she started to hold him against her instead of pull him away, then he used his tongue to slide up her slit to her nerve pearl. He gently nibbled and sucked at her until she was bucking helplessly in his arms, then he gave her a send-off by smashing her privates into his face and blowing a raspberry on her clit. Hermione screamed loud enough to dent his eardrums. Then she leaned limply over his head in a brief ‘petite mort’.


He pulled her back down into the water and tucked her into his side where she lay against him like a rag doll, “I guess you won’t be disparaging my body for awhile, hmmm?” Lucius said, complacently. “I think I’ll call my tongue ‘Viper’. It has a certain killing quality to it, don’t you think?” ”


Hermione was almost afraid to ask, but she just had to know now, her prurient curiosity awakened, “I know males like to give names to their cocks. Harry and Ron had silly names for theirs. Harry used to call his ‘the Patronus’ which I thought was rather boastful, but Ron called his ‘the King’ which he said was because he likes chess but it was just plain grandstanding – AND inaccurate.” She leaned up to confide in Lucius’ ear, “We’re talking measley Weasley. So then what do you call your cock?”


Lucius frowned thoughtfully at her and considered, “I certainly like the lurid analogy of wielding it in you, but unfortunately the Arthur reference now rather puts me off. I may have to rename ‘Excaliber’.


“Well,” Hermione whispered, slipping into an exhausted stupor, “I hope whatever you decide to call your cock, it gives me your babies.” She pushed her face into his chest and fell asleep right on him in the water.


Lucius looked down at his slumbering, sloshed wife and was amazed. She really did want his babies. Lucius glowed from the inside out with wonder. He’d been afraid to ask if she was being honest about wanting his children for fear that she had changed her mind. He knew it was going to be very difficult for her to get pregnant as it was, judging from his previous marriage. He lovingly picked up his tiny wife and carried her out of the water, dried her off, and returned to his bedroom where he tucked her into his bed. He slid in next to her and held her, warming her up as he slowly, peacefully drifted off to sleep, too.


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AND... (Labib waves her wand and ensorcells each reader) REVIEW!!

**Giggles** If that was going to work, I'm sure someone else would have tried it by now. But I would love to hear your comments on Hermione's latest soapy encounter with her husband. Why hadn't he shown her the bathroom before? Did he see bathing together as a more intimate venue and he wasn't ready before now? Remembering their 'purple toy' shower, he seems to open up more with water (no pun intended). Slytherin isn't a water sign is it?

Ginny and Severus up next.
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