A New Order of Wizards - COMPLETE

The characters belong to J.K.Rowling. I am only borrowing them for a while. No copyright transgressions are intended and no profit is made.
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Updated 11-5-06

A/N:

Oh, dear - I've been rather surprised at the animosity some of you have for Harry. I don't see him as a horrible person at all. Just an overworked, very young man with the whole magical world on his shoulders, and who still has a lot to learn about women. He's got great teachers in Ginny and Hermione so he'll get there (they won't let him stay naive for long) but he's not tuned into women like Lucius is. Hermione is angry with him, but she still loves him like a brother. Sometimes you can be more angry with a sibling than you ever could be with a stranger. The kid's floundering among the petticoats and he's outgunned, so try to feel sorry for him instead?

IF - any of you are reading my Lucius/OFC stories, I would appreciate reviews there, too. I check back every so often, so don't think they'll not be seen...8-)

Oh, I almost forgot - lemon coming up, so if you don't like them, skip this chapter. (I never use the word 'smirk' in my stories, but I do think it might have been appropriate here.) 8-)
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Chapter Twenty-Two – The Garden


She walked over to the glass door and opened it to discover her husband on the other side with his sneer in place. She hadn’t seen that for a while; she knew he had seen her kiss Harry. She sighed to herself and took his arm. “Looking for me? Has the dancing started?”


“You tell me. Have I interrupted something? I’ll be happy to find another partner if you are busy.” Even to Lucius it sounded too much like jealousy so he tried very hard to turn his sneer into a smile, but it just wouldn’t go. He was angry – and hurt.


Hermione asked, “What do you think I was doing with Harry just now? A secret assignation? Do you think I’m that stupid? I know that can’t be jealousy I see so it must be that you are angry I’m consorting with your enemy. He’s my friend, even though I’m mad as fire at him right now. I won’t drop friendships that you don’t approve of, Lucius.”


“You kiss people you’re mad at, do you?” Lucius wanted to be convinced and hated himself for it. He didn’t need his wife’s complete attention on him. It was purely a matter of principle. Pure damn-it-to-hell principle. Perhaps she was just getting back at him for the Pamela con. He steered her down the grand staircase, through a long hallway and out onto another terrace. A few other couples were enjoying the warm night and the fragrance of the gardens. He walked her down off the terrace onto one of the paths, leaving the lights from the mansion behind.


Hermione strolled beside Lucius, aware that he was in a strange mood, and figuring it had to do with her and Harry, but not understanding why he should really care. Nevertheless, she tried to clear the air, “Harry was angry because I was bragging to Ginny about…well…about my multiple orgasms. He’s livid because now she expects him to give them to her, too. He said some hurtful things to me, so I told him you were dynamite in bed. I’m not sorry about that, but I am sorry if you were upset at seeing me kiss Harry.” She looked up at Lucius, “Like I said, I was mad as fire at him. I was thanking him for handing me such a great lover. You.” Hermione tried to explain better, “You know, adding salt to the wound. I’m an expert at maiming with words after a year with you.”


“Have you both complimented and insulted me just now?” Lucius was trying to believe Hermione’s story. It seemed to hang together, but he wanted to be sure she understood she was married to him, and other men were out of bounds. Especially Potter. He guided her deeper into the garden.


Hermione didn’t want Lucius to feel threatened by Harry. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. You’ll know when I do that,” Hermione stated with smug conviction. “Are you angry that I talked about our personal life? To Ginny? To Harry? I consider that it’s partly your fault if I finally went off the deep end and told Ginny some personal stuff. I’ve spent the last year listening to Ginny’s unending happiness in her marriage and new sex life. I could only nod and give vague innuendos about my sex life, which up until recently has been as sterile as a St. Mungo’s bedpan.”


Lucius looked down at his wife with a quizzical eyebrow, “Bedpan? Do they sterilize them? I hadn’t known that. You do read a lot, don’t you?” Lucius had a particular destination in mind as he led her further from the dance.


Hermione huffed in exasperation, “It was only a simile, Lucius. How do I know if they sterilize…? Oh, for Hecuba’s sake, we’re getting way off the point. Are you angry with me or not?”


“Not, I think. After all, if I am dynamite in bed, I must be coming out of this little ‘tell all’ rather to the good. A pity I can’t cash in on my newly enhanced reputation with any other bed partners, so I suppose you’ll have to do.” Hermione gasped at Lucius’ nasty comment as Lucius fitted his hand around Hermione’s upper arm and pulled her into a small arbor of trellised roses, which effectively swallowed them from view. No one else had bothered to come so far from the mansion and Hermione realized belatedly that Lucius was very definitely stewing about something. She wasn’t left long in suspense.


Lucius pulled her over to the marble bench at the side of the arbor and sat, pulling her face down over his lap. Hermione hadn’t even drawn a breath before Lucius had hiked her dress to her waist and was spanking her with all the pent up misery and frustration he’d been made to feel for the past many months. The unwanted guilt over Pamela and especially his horrifying jealousy of Potter were the last straws. His hand held her down by grabbing a handful of her disordered locks so she couldn’t rise. He was really more angry at himself than Hermione, but he almost never acknowledged his own culpability to himself without some mitigating reason. That was quintessential Lucius, and Hermione’s purported misbehavior with Harry was his excuse.


Each stinging slap reddened the porcelain skin of her buttocks more, and made her realize this man had a very low tolerance for his wife touching other men, especially enemies. Hermione was hurting, but she was also perversely getting very aroused at her husband’s caveman tactics. He was insecure! And jealous? How odd to think of arrogant Lucius that way. Hermione silently waited out the sharp blows raining on her backside. She tried to think of it as her turn to get spanked.


Lucius was beside himself with fury. “I expect my wife to behave with circumspection at these affairs, which I know you despise, but are extremely important to me, both socially and financially. Kissing the Minister of Magic, who everyone knows is a great ‘friend’ of yours, presents an opportunity for speculation and gossip about us. I will not be made to look the cuckold.” With a final strike that ended in a brief possessive squeeze, Lucius lifted his small wife up from his lap only to stand her against the stone wall at the rear of the arbor, pushing her up against the cold surface. He put his hand around his wife’s neck at the nape and suddenly the whole front of her halter dress loosened and fell to her waist. Lucius’ hand snaked to her side, grabbed the zipper pull and her dress loosened around her waist too. The entire confection dropped onto the flagging at her feet.


Hermione let out a screech that was instantly smothered by her husband’s lips. She didn’t have a stitch on except her nylons and shoes now. She felt him yanking at his trouser button, and then he had freed himself from his fly.


He kicked her abused dress out of the way in irritation and roughly thrust his knee between her legs – he was absolutely on fire with jealousy and lust. Lucius cinched her waist with his hands, pushed her up the wall and slid her down onto his swollen member, cramming himself inside her sheath to the hilt. He held her there for the space of a few seconds while they both gasped with the erotic sensation of his forceful penetration. “If you need male attention, you will come to me. Only me. I will not tolerate my wife kissing another man, ever.” Lucius punctuated his words with solid jerks of his hips, making his point in Hermione’s delicate channel.


Hermione now knew for certain what the strange emotion was that was driving her husband. Oh, yes, her Death Eater was definitely jealous! She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, but for the moment she had to concentrate on leaning into Lucius’s shirtfront and clasping him around his shoulders so he didn’t scrape any more skin off her back with his thrusts as he used the wall to pin her. He was oblivious to her predicament and she decided she would stay mum about it and let him ‘punish’ her some more for his jealousy and his guilt over the deception with Pamela. Poor, bad Death Eater, Hermione crooned in her mind. Except for the problem of the stone wall on her reddened butt, she was having a marvelous time. Lucius all steamed up was erotic as hell; Gods, but he was good at this. She could repair any slight scrapes later. Right now she wanted to enjoy his hard length and the stretching her core was absorbing. Yeesss! Exactly on her sweet spot. Hermione slid her arms up around Lucius’ neck and starting kissing him back, not at all concerned about any marks she’d have on her face from his fierce liplock.


Lucius felt her acceptance of his domination and it drove him wild. “I own you,” he growled deep in his throat. “I own these,” and he squeezed her breasts one at a time, tweaking her nipples, “I own this,” and a deep thrust told her what he meant, “I own this,” and he moved his finger down to her clit, strumming it. “I own it all,” said Lucius, pulling her legs more firmly around his waist. He picked up his pace, cramming her bum against the wall as he assaulted her drenched depths over and over. She tenderly chanted his name in little moans. Suddenly they both flew off into their own climaxes with deep-seated moans and high-pitched screams. Lucius held onto his tiny wife, bracing himself against her and the wall for long moments, trying to catch his breath. He belatedly saw the wall at his wife’s back and pulled her away immediately, regretting his mindless assaults on her derriere. He gently lowered her feet to the flagstones, turning her around to see if she was hurt.


Bending over to look more closely, he saw numerous shallow abrasions; he looked up at her ready to apologize. Hermione said, “Not one word! Don’t you dare be remorseful now. I enjoyed every spank, bump, and scrape. You say that you own me. Well, these lacerations also prove that I own you, too. If you were indifferent you wouldn’t care about ownership. Now, where’s my dress?”


While Hermione was searching around their legs for her maltreated dress, Lucius was examining her words as he adjusted his trousers. When he’d said he owned her, he hadn’t meant to give away himself to her in exchange. Had he? Was that what it meant? No, no, she didn’t own him. In no way did she own him. She had mistakenly surmised that his ownership implied caring of some sort. She was wrong. It was only about the sex. The fantastic sex they’d been discovering together. Not caring. Lucius squeezed his eyes shut. Not caring.


Hermione slipped her dress back on and tidied her hair the best she could. It didn’t matter too much because her hair was always a mass of uncoordinated curls anyway. She looked over at her silent husband, wondering what was brewing in his snaky mind now. He certainly had taken her contention that she also owned him in stride. She had accepted and wholeheartedly embraced ownership when she’d terrorized poor Pamela defending him. She knew it. Did he? “Shall we go back, now?” She reached over and hooked her hand onto his sleeve and they strolled back through the gardens to the house, never saying a word to each other.


As they came up onto the terrace, several couples saw them and the women noticed the unusual dishevelment of Lucius’ pristine shirtfront and Hermione’s skewed halter and rosy lips. The buzz transferred from couple to couple, until it became common knowledge that Lucius had been up to his old tricks, but with his Muggleborn wife. The Purebloods were mystified at the powerful Death Eater’s apparent assignation with his Ministry-forced mate. It obviously wasn’t the prescribed weekly duty sex the two had been indulging in out in the bushes. Most of the re-mated Pureblood wives were gnashing their teeth that an upstart Muggleborn had the rights to what they themselves had been well acquainted with in the past. Several would have given anything to be in the bushes with Lucius instead. He hadn’t been particularly narrow-minded in the swathe he’d cut through the Pureblood female ranks before.


Lucius swept his wife onto the dance floor, silently keeping her there through several very slow numbers. Hermione was closely wrapped in his arms in rare accord. As they slowly traversed the dance floor, Hermione saw the catty little witch who’d made fun of her dress scowling at them. Hermione just wiggled her fingers at the other woman and smiled maliciously, earning a cold shoulder in return. Hermione happily snuggled further into her husband’s arms, knowing the bitch-witch was green with envy. As soon as they courteously could, they thanked their host for the delightful evening and apparated home, both choosing to go to their separate bedrooms. Hermione certainly hadn’t made any new social friends among the females that night.


Lucius learned through the rumor mill that any lingering talk of Hermione and Harry had been completely overshadowed by his obvious tussle with her in the gardens. They had all seen the scrapes on her back and drawn their own conclusions. Word had it that he had punished her for her wandering interest by reinforcing his rights and she had meekly submitted to his domination. He was rather annoyed that his friends thought she would wander in the first place, but that couldn’t be helped now. The females just thought Hermione was crazy to want anyone else when she had a lover like Lucius and they were maliciously pleased that she had been punished. Lucius smiled cynically at that, knowing several of those women would have traded places with Hermione in a heartbeat. Who exactly had been punished in the arbor? It felt more like both of them had been given a gift.
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