Beyond the Veil -- COMPLETE

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Updated 6-27-08

Well, folks, last chapter was to atone for all the smutless chapters you had to go through. I am not nearly done 'atoning' so not to worry.

Everyone is ready for Lucius to pick a painting, I see. Sigh, better get the noose strung over the tree limb again. I just can't win...but I hope you like what happens next, anyway.

meankitty69 – Glad you liked the lemon. Yes, I am slowly shedding more light on the major story line, which will play out as we go along. Amongst the smut, that is. Hermione and Lucius have a few things left to iron out.

Utopia – Yup, that last chapter was Smut R Us. Lucius’ ideas on his future straying is his uninformed stance on their marriage. As an author yourself, you know characters go the way THEY want to go. Sometimes I feel like I’m just there to do the typing. And Lucius has a perfectly marvelous tongue to match his um, you know. Lucius is the only one with a prophecy.

I found Skegness on the internet. Does it have some sort of roller coaster and ferris wheel? The web site is asking more pics if anyone has them. I don’t know why their city council can’t run to a few digital photos. Strange. http://www.skegness.net/pictures.htm

pittwitch – Geez PW, I can’t really respond to anything you’ve written this time, so I’m glad you like the mystery. I hope you will still like this chapter because it digresses from those paintings.

Utopia – Your song lyrics were great! I could hear the music as I read the words. An oldie but goodie. Terrific!

Jesse – Ah, glad you’re liking the lemons. Things are going to get VERY interesting.

dolphindreamer – I think perhaps Lucius does have some ideas on Hermione’s behavior, but he’s not the most patient man. I’m very happy you like the story!

Jocy – Fascinating theory. A few more bumps along the road to true love, I fear. And Lucius is responsible for a few of those potholes.

Malfoysplaymate – Wow, thank you. I’m honored you’ve spent a solid night reading all my stories. And you must be a fast reader. Did you read “Lucius and the Waif”? It’s an OFC, but I must admit it is my favorite story.

Heidi191976 – Thank you, Heidi. Next chapter is ready for you now.

mandi – You’ve read the top of this chapter, so you know we are meandering away a bit from Lucius’ painting, right?

pasen852 – Oooh, I like the word ‘stroppy’. That’s not in my American vocabulary. Does it mean snippy or upset or angry? I’ll see if there is a way to make Lucius jealous – possibly later.

Snape_Goddess - If Lucius weren’t already beyond wealthy, he could be a billionaire from his tongue alone, I think. Snerk.

Yes, there is still a bit to iron out between those two.

Is the word ‘pip’ like ‘pipped at the post’ (of course, that might better be ‘pipped by his post’) or a reference to the size and shape being like a pip?

The courtesans at his brothel are all Muggles. I suspect our Mr. Malfoy will want to keep his bordello business away from his superior reputation in the wizarding world. Of course, from those paintings it looks as though the name Malfoy wasn’t exactly snow white.

Sending you hugs and good wishes and an umbrella for that biblical flood of rain. The rain will stop – it never rains forever.

Gryffindor_Slytherin – Hmm, let me think about adding Hermione’s knowledge, if any, about the other HP characters’ fates in the fall of the wizarding world.

Tenar10r – Oh, oh, you’re going to help yank the noose tight as I swing, aren’t you? No Lucius and his painting this chapter. Sorry…

helensgirl – Lucius and Hermione aren’t going to kill each other, but, well, read on.

Lady Miya - Ah! Thanks for the heads up on the word ‘nirvana’. I can’t imagine I’ll use the word ‘Brahman’ for a climax – no one would get that, but the difference in definition of ‘nirvana’ might be enough to keep me away from using the word, although if one experiences “the little death” it might apply LOL. I got your second message, too. (Your review of my story, “The Wedding” 6-25-08)

Lucius’ daytime work is varied according to his business interests. He doesn’t spend his time swilling beer, not if he wants to keep his figure. Yeah, why don’t lovers like Lucius exist in the real world? I’ve wondered that myself.

“The Little Death” or as the French name it, “La Petite Mort” isn’t original with me. It’s a well known phenomenon with that name. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_little_death

You’re very perspicacious!

LadyVoldemort87 – “Lucius” is another name for arrogance and vanity. It’s why he’s so popular. Every woman wants to tame him. (Being hot-looking doesn’t hurt either.) I don’t think Hermione will be any different ultimately. The 'Lucius is God' idea you have is one Lucius would be glad to subscribe to. He’d have to be one of the Greek pantheon, though, with his hubris.

angelprince – Oh, my - my neck is going to stretch for sure. You want the painting, too. I can’t give out clues to “The Master” if I’m garroted. Keep that in mind, please.

blue artemis – Oooh, blue artemis, out of the mouths of…of artemises. Read on.

Tambrathegreat – Heh, heh, I think Lucius’ new leaf program is going to be revitalized, whether he wants it or not. Can’t respond to prophecy guesses, yet. That will come along later. Tying up Lucius – you know I love to do that, don’t you? Reading while writing the review in a second window simultaneously is great, isn’t it? So easy.

Scary Bear Hair – Squirmy smut reading is the best I always think. Lucius is a very good businessman. I think his instructions to the courtesans were along the lines of tea and sympathy before, during, and/or after sex, whichever the client liked.

Hermione’s stiff attitude may stem from self-protection. She knows she’s probably a goner for the handsome wizard and is trying to slow the skid into his magnetic field. Futile, of course. LOL

Oh, no! Another one wanting Lucius’ painting choice. Just bury me in the Malfoy crypt when my body stops twitching, okay?

doodle – The bedroom art is kind of lowbrow, but educational. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Muffy – Yes, sometimes those two overcomplicate matters.

Rini – Lucius is making a stab at retaining his autonomy in the marriage, while being annoyed at Hermione doing the same. So alike, sigh. Their contraceptive spell is still good until it is removed.

They communicate too much, just not always in the right way – yet.

falling_magic – Dear falling_magic, I don’t send out emails, but I do post updates on my LiveJournal page when I put up a new chapter. That probably doesn’t help much. My LJ URL is on my profile page. I answer individual questions you may have through email, just not a running post for each new chapter. You can see that Lucius' painting choice isn’t going to happen this chapter. Apologies!

Citten – The plot thickens with the prophecy Lucius has been carrying around. Yeah, about that painting Lucius was going to pick…gulp.

jessysgirl – High praise, indeed. Thank you!

Onward...


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Chapter Twenty- Seven

Back to the Bordello

The first thing Hermione did was return to their bedroom and peruse the paintings carefully once again. She needed to be clear about which paintings were beyond her willingness to participate. As she wandered around the room activating each painting, there were several that were exciting, but others that she wasn’t sure she wanted to do. A couple of the paintings were well beyond anything she ever wanted to try.

Lucius had agreed that anything from threesomes up to and including the orgies were not what either of them preferred, but he refuse to rule out the ones where one or the other of the people in the painting was tied up, or tied down. He had seemed suspiciously complacent when she had hogtied him to that boardingroom bed for spanking her.

The paintings with the bullwhips made her shudder, but that mysterious frisson of heat snaked into her sex again when she inspected the paintings where the female was using some kind of smaller rod on a male. It was reminiscent of when she had stroked Lucius with her elongated wand. Maybe those rods were magically enhanced wands. The detail was too small to tell for sure.

The paintings where it was obvious the man was missing the woman’s regular sheath and embedding himself in her backside didn’t at all appeal, while the ones where the man accepted that treatment rather shocked her, but strangely it interested her more than the one where the woman was the recipient – possibly because it wouldn’t be her having something shoved into her bum. And looking carefully, the object was not always the man’s organ in the woman. Sometimes it was some nondescript cylindrical implement.

Since they had limited themselves to the two of them as the participants, the few paintings where it was two men or two women were set aside as not feasible – or, Hermione added to herself, desirable. Hermione just hoped her husband continued to accept her limitations on their sex life. He had chosen several paintings already that she was unwilling to attempt and he had accepted her wishes, saying he would choose another painting the next evening.

So far they hadn’t progressed past the basics. He gave her oral sex and/or they made love missionary style. The only changes they indulged in came from differing locations suggested by the blander of the many paintings. The hipbath had come in for its share of use and once Lucius had gotten amorous in the library. She made a mental note to remember to get that damned spring fixed in the sofa before they did that again. Hermione always wanted the lights dimmed first, but that hadn’t slowed Lucius down at all.

At first he seemed happy to let her set her boundaries, but recently she was detecting an edge to his manner. He was as attentive as always, but an increasing air of restraint ghosted through their lovemaking; it was as though something powerful surged silently through him, communicating itself to her by his very gentleness. She knew his tenderness for the warning it was. She was holding back a cataclysm. She had a fuzzy suspicion not much was beyond his sexual appetite. The paintings were, after all, the property of a Malfoy and she didn’t think their familial proclivities had dulled much in two hundred years.

Lucius was obviously a man who savored the sexual side of life. It fairly dripped off him in a mesmerizing waterfall of seductive temptation, beckoning a female to bathe in his enticing allure. But Hermione wasn’t yet ready to explore anything more exotic with him and she knew him being a gentleman in bed was as unnatural to him as Voldemort favoring pink.

So far he was just enjoying a true sex life again after so many years in prison, but soon, very soon, his eagerness to have any kind of sex would revert to whatever more sophisticated forms of the recreation he’d had before; she could feel it in him. She was concerned that down that road lay an underlying intimacy between them she wasn’t prepared to face yet, and so far she had also hidden one of her greatest worries from him.

She sighed - his kiss was magic, his questing hands utter pleasure. A tiny niggle of worry abraded her, however, as she recognized the tendril of tenderness for him that was trying to entwine itself in her wary heart. Her body was already in thrall to the erotic intensity her husband could weave about her. Did she want her heart and soul to be ensnared also? She shivered.

Hermione hurried out of the master bedroom and called for an elf. She got a small female sweetly named Lolly who, at her request, led her to Lucius’ study instead of apparating her. The mansion was very large and Hermione hadn’t done much about familiarizing herself with the place. She still didn’t want to roam and perhaps come unawares upon that main drawing room with the bad memories.

Hermione thanked the little elf and entered the cozy room, enjoying the heat from the fireplace as she perused the space. Wainscoting of dark oak marched along all the walls, making the room feel warm and inviting, giving it an old-world air. Besides an armoire and a large circular Aubusson carpet of light green bordered with flowers, the main piece of furniture was a large oak desk, ornately carved at the bottom, but with a workmanlike surface covered in a dark green, thin layer of inlaid marble.

Hermione went to the desk and sat in the wooden chair and laughed with abrupt merriment. The one, rather worn, black velvet cushion on the seat wasn’t plump enough for her to comfortably work at the desk – the surface was the height of her armpits. Hermione was too short to get her elbows up to write or shuffle the papers effectively. The difference between Lucius’ and her respective sizes was very apparent at that moment. He was so much taller than she. A shivery sigh of remembered enchantment slid through her as she recalled her husband’s beautiful, muscular form.

The little witch contemplated using her wand to adjust the furniture, but abandoned the idea as too intrusive on another’s belongings. Gazing around the room looking for something to add to her height, she contemplated the large armoire in the corner, the only place with any closed space.

Hoping it might have some additional cushions or even a book or two she could sit on, she stepped over and opened the doors, swinging them wide – and found a series of accounting journals from the brothel she had been trapped in, and peeking from behind them, the missing annual listings of the “Wizard and Witch Genealogy” for the last thirty years. The Malfoy library must have only housed the older volumes. Hermione was instantly interested in the latest information for the magical families.

She realized her delightful husband had not only brought his accounting books for the brothel to the mansion and tucked them out of sight while she helped him with the innocuous estate accounts, he had obscured the family listings for the magic world when he had stuffed his new books in front of them. Was that on purpose or by accident? Perhaps Lucius hadn’t any idea the histories of the wizarding families would be of use to them in solving the riddle of their being catapulted into 1817.

Then she remembered she had asked him if he knew the name of the Master who had obliterated their world. Lucius hadn’t answered. Deep in thought, Hermione returned to the desk with a couple of the old magic family listings to sit on and began working on the estate accounts Lucius had requested she bring up to date. She would investigate the genealogical records later.

A couple of hours later, the newest receipts were added to the estate accounts, the bills paid, and the accounts themselves had been scrutinized, leaving Hermione with even more questions. Lucius' dead ‘uncle’ had been siphoning money away from the estate for some very mysterious reason over a long period. There were lump sums, which had gone to something designated LOAN – quite a large sum when added together. There was no other information on the distribution of the money, but the amounts went back some thirty years - the same amount of time as the span of the “Wizard and Witch Genealogy” annuals in the armoire.

Hermione wondered if all the pieces were part of a whole – the latest thirty years of the “Wizard and Witch Genealogy” stuffed in the armoire in Uncle Malfoy’s study and thirty years of payments or bribes or whatever they were disappearing from the Malfoy accounts to a debit item known only as LOAN.

~~~~~

At luncheon Hermione opened conversation with the question, “What are the brothel’s accounting books doing in the study?”

“You’ve been snooping in my study?” An affronted blond eyebrow rose over one gray eye.

“I beg your pardon!” she said.


The eyebrow started to relax until Hermione continued, “ I was not snooping and I resent you even using that word. I have as much right to look in any odd corner of this mausoleum as you. I’m your wife and I live here, too. You asked me to do the estate accounts, I had to go to the study to do them, and I opened the armoire for something to sit on. Now I repeat, what are the brothel’s accounting books doing in the study?”

Lucius sat a minute, mulling over his wife’s attitude, then spoke more mildly, a trace of his irritation still emanating from that eyebrow, “I’m the owner. Who else would have the books?”

“You haven’t sold it?” Hermione saw her husband’s face assume a mulish expression. “You aren’t selling it, are you? Lucius Malfoy, Pimp Extraordinaire. Your ancestors would be horrified.”

Lucius’ shuttered expression lifted and he chuckled, “My ancestors were pimps and worse. Much worse. But we were always Pureblood. It’s actually my marriage to you that would horrify my ancestors.” Lucius relaxed back in his chair, “Did you think the Malfoy wealth derived from doing charity work and having bake sales? Have I disappointed you? That bordello was a prime piece of real estate with a solid business in full swing. I’ve changed some of the types of services offered, but I’m not selling such a promising property.”

He tsked in spurious sorrow as his conscience lightened, “You thought I should walk away from such a lucrative business? And do what? Chivvy the women out into the street and just let them starve? The ones who wanted to stay had a reason, Hermione. They had nowhere else to go and believe it or not, they actually enjoy their work. For the most part. I’ve placed numerous safeguards throughout the building and rearranged the business and now the women are very happy in their jobs.” He saw disbelief raise her delicate eyebrows up to her hairline.

“I’m a very good businessman. Did you think I was just a dilettante, spending the Malfoy millions and swishing around in my black hood and mask playing Death Eater for fun? I may have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but it was tarnished almost beyond retrieving. My father liked to spend money but had no clue in how to keep it. When he luckily died of the dragon pox, I was left with less than half of what we’d had before my dear old Dad got his hands on it. It took years of hard work and investing to bring the family coffers back up to a level comfortable for our way of life although much of the land we owned was gone forever. The Muggles helped us lose some of our land, of course, but my father didn’t help any.”

Lucius’ attention drifted far away for a moment, “Maybe, if we actually are going to affect the future, my family’s lands will be intact into our twenty-first century. I’ll make as much unplottable as I can for that possibility.” He abruptly snapped back to his previous topic, “I had a position as a Pureblood to uphold, a family to support, and Muggles encroaching on my livelihood everywhere I turned. Well, of course that’s ancient history now – or I suppose all that hasn’t even happened yet – but I have made the brothel into a very profitable enterprise, not only for us, but for the women.”

“It’s immoral, and disgusting,” the little witch attacked her husband’s attitude. “You’re taking advantage of those women and making them believe in a fairytale.” Hermione was appalled that some of the money she’d been enjoying had been earned by other women doing lewd things against their wills.

“My dear girl, as usual you don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” Lucius got up, stalked around the table, grabbed Hermione’s arm and without asking permission, apparated them into the back shed of a property that Hermione had hoped never to see again.

Lucius kept the shed locked from the inside so he could come and go from other places to the property without others seeing him. The shed opened out two ways – into the back garden of the brothel and also into the mews running behind the properties, which served as an alleyway for horses and carriages between the rear yards of properties that backed onto it. Any idle onlooker would assume Lucius had come from whichever entry they weren’t able to see.

“Are we back at that horrible bordello? I don’t want to go back there,” Hermione stepped back from the shed door and tried to apparate, but Lucius was faster and blocked her attempt to leave. “No, Lucius. It makes me feel all creepy inside.”

“This is important,” Lucius said coldly and Hermione was hustled out the shed door and through the ruthlessly organized kitchen garden of the bordello, one large, manicured hand spread on her shoulders and the other grasping her elbow as she fairly flew over the path and up the steps into the kitchen, her feet trying not to trip as she was nearly shoved into the house.

She smiled weakly at the two astonished kitchen workers, but Lucius marched her inexorably deeper into the house, pulling her through to a familiar setting, the office-sitting room they had shared the night he’d saved her from this place. As the blond wizard closed the door, Hermione shivered and leaned into Lucius, wrapping her arms about his waist, wanting only to go away immediately.

Slowly, as Lucius merely stood still and let her hold him, her awareness of the room settled in and she noticed that most everything had changed. The room was much more masculine in its décor and most notably the smell was now pure Lucius and lime. Hermione inhaled, her heartbeats slowing as she relaxed a bit.

Lucius was a little startled that her reaction was still so intense, having a typical male’s lack of understanding about a female’s lack of power against physical assault and the terror it provokes. “Sit down, Hermione. I want you to listen to some of what has changed here. You can see I’ve completely redecorated this room. The differences are much greater, though, than this.” He guided Hermione over to the inlaid cherry desk and sat her behind it.

She looked up at him enquiringly, keeping her hands together below the level of the desk so Lucius wouldn’t see them shaking. She didn’t know her pupils were nearly black with fear and it sent a shaft of pain into him, seeing her so upset – still, she had to understand. If she was going to relegate him to the role of brutal purveyor of feminine flesh, she was going to do it with all the facts.

Lucius walked two steps to the side of the small fireplace and pulled an embroidered strip of cloth hanging there. Distantly a tinkling could be heard and in moments there was a knock on the door.

“Come,” said Lucius and a small, mobcapped maid poked her head around the doorjamb.

“Yes sir?” She saw the master motion her into the room and she timidly came forward, looking in some curiosity at the young lady behind the desk.

“Agnes, could you please ask the ladies to gather in the drawing room in ten minutes?” Lucius smiled at the young maid whose eyes had lowered to stare at the carpet in shyness while her fingers twisted in her apron.

“Yes sir, right away.” She sped out of the room like a Dementor was after her, and Hermione realized she couldn’t have been more than twelve.


“Wasn’t she one of the …?” Hermione was surprised.

“She was one of the victims here, yes. She told me she had nowhere to go because her parents would never take her back after being held in this place. She offered to stay on in her, uh, previous position, but profiting from pedophiles taking advantage of children isn’t what I will ever allow here.”

Lucius frowned at the extremely distasteful thought. Draco’s first French Master was quietly sleeping with the fishes soon after Lucius had discovered why his six-year-old son was suddenly reluctant to continue his studies on the Malfoy family’s original language. Lucius had caught the situation quickly but even so he had mercifully obliviated Draco’s memories. After that a house elf had been assigned to chaperone all Draco’s private lessons.

“Other brothels may cater to that degenerate crowd – I can’t stop them,” the dark wizard said, his sneer appearing briefly under slitted, wintry eyes, “but I would be more likely to crucio anyone doing anything like that here. I offered Agnes the job of maid and she accepted. I believe the ladies are all kind to her. She has the advantage of having been one of them and it creates a bond of understanding for them all.”

Lucius said, “I’ll be back in a moment. You stay where you are.” He whisked out of the room before Hermione could do anything more than gasp. She started to get up, but the environs began to feel chilly and the room to close in on her so she sat back down, hoping Lucius would return quickly.

She could have apparated home but she knew he would then be very angry and he likely would bring her right back anyway. And what if someone who had seen her in this room could tell for sure that she hadn’t left by the door? Sometimes the Muggle world was extremely fatiguing to someone with a secret. The only time she could relax and be herself completely was with Lucius, even in the magic world.

Lucius returned to the office and stood by the fireplace, one shoulder slightly leaning against the mantel. When a knock came at the door, he called for the person to enter. Hermione was surprised to see one of the women who had decided to remain in the bordello enter and sit in front of Hermione across the desk from her. At a nod from Lucius, the woman began speaking and perforce Hermione had to listen.

One by one the women Hermione had remembered from that night came in and sat in front of the desk. Each talked easily about her background and her life before she came to the brothel. Some were dreary stories and some were unpleasant, but to a woman, each of them vowed they were happy in their present circumstances and truly enjoyed the life of a courtesan, as they liked to call themselves. That name was more glamorous than the cruder terms they’d been subjected to.

One of the women offered the interesting information that Lucius was having them study better diction with one of their own who had a higher class accent. She said Mr. Malfoy had decreed that their clients would appreciate a classier accent and would likely treat them better, too. It was a popular idea and the women had been very pleased with it and with their new master. Hermione hid a moue of disgust at the unabashed fawning her husband was receiving from his employees in their renditions of the changes they were experiencing at his hands.

Hermione noticed that most of them gifted Lucius with comfortable and sometimes intimate looks, making Hermione wonder if he’d been sampling the goods he was providing to others. Her heart sank. How stupid. Of course he’d been screwing these women. It was like setting down a satyr in a harem. My Gods, this wasn’t a business, it was a playground for the dark wizard.

The last woman to enter the office was Margaret. Hermione remembered her as a good-hearted, benign soul without two brain cells to rub together. She was pretty in a full-figured way, her blond hair drawn up haphazardly into a twist, and her big, blue eyes smiling if a little vacant.

“Oh, gracious, I didn’t know you were in here too, Lucius! Are you going to play today?”

“Margaret, you’re here to talk about your previous life and answer questions Mrs. Malfoy may have for you.” Lucius looked repressively at the woman who merely smiled back at him happily.

Hermione asked in confusion, “I didn’t know Mr. Malfoy played the piano. Oh, you mean play at the gaming tables.” Hermione nodded, the issue cleared up.

“Oh, no Missus, I mean which of us is he going to choose today. You know,” she winked, “to spank us.”

“What?! You mean he’s hitting all of you?” Thunderclouds gathered on Hermione’s face.

“Oh, no Missus. Not hitting. Spanking. He’s ever so good at it. We all wants to take turns with him.” Margaret looked up at Lucius in adoration. Her new master had proven to be kind and generous to all of them.

“Margaret, what have I told you -” Lucius’ voice was overridden as Margaret confided to Hermione, trying to sing Lucius’ praises for him. She thought he was merely reticent about bragging and wanted to help him win Hermione over to his type of bed sport. Margaret thought Lucius’ love life was so romantic with his little starchy sprite, but if he was spanking them instead of his wife, Margaret shrewdly figured there was something wrong. She wasn’t clever, but she knew men and this one wanted his wife. She wanted to help him along. Bashful man!

“You can be proud of your man, Missus Malfoy. He’s excellent wicked good with his hand, he is. We come away proper spanked with rosy, red bums. But he don’t bruise us.”

Lucius groaned in the background, knowing dim, sweet Margaret would never shut up - she thought she was playing Cupid for him, never knowing she had just ruined his marriage! He swerved and minutely investigated the mantel ornaments hoping Margaret would wind down, now that his whole future was dead.

The blond woman sat back proud of her championing of her idol. “He’s so masterful and demanding, but caring, if you know what I mean. We all wanted him to choose us so he had to set up a rota…rota…a list of who goes next.”

Hermione slumped back suddenly in the desk chair, completely flummoxed. “You…you like it? Why ever would you like it?”

Lucius stepped between the women, “Thank you, Margaret, that will be all.” He lifted the woman up by her elbows, drawing her over to the door as quickly as he could.

“I hope she’ll let you, now,” Margaret whispered loud enough for the kitchen help down the hall to hear. “Sometimes the prim ones need a little priming.”

She was nearly catapulted out of the door with a hurried ‘thank you’. Lucius cast a silencing charm on the room, then turned back, sitting in the chair lately vacated by his helpful nemesis. He relaxed, resting his chin on one hand and training his eyes on the shocked little witch sitting at his desk. Hermione did need priming and how Margaret saw it when he hadn’t was astounding. He said nothing, just waited for Hermione to make the first move.

Hermione didn’t know what to say. She’d writhed under Lucius in bed on their wicked black sheets, but she had never imagined him spanking her. That was what Margaret was describing, wasn’t it? And he’d done it to all those women she’d just sat and talked to not half an hour before. She began to feel intensely humiliated, having all those women know something so intimate and…and carnal about her life’s partner. He’d been spanking them all those days she’d been suffering those gawdawful teas with those boring women, wishing he were with her and not out inspecting his land. Instead he was taking full advantage of his new business and whoring while she swilled tepid tea. Well, he wasn’t exactly whoring in the accepted sense, unless…

Lucius spoke up, “No, I haven’t done anything with them except what you’ve already heard.”

Hermione looked down and saw his wand trained on her from the chair arm and realized the bastard had been focusing his legilimency on her. Suddenly it was all too much. She hadn’t been shielding her mind from him at all. She trusted him and he repaid her with entering her mind. Her humiliation boiled over and Hermione’s eyes filled with tears of rage and sadness.

“Enough!” roared Lucius, reading that, too. “YOU feel humiliated! I’m tired of being treated like a mechanical sex toy at home and then feeling guilty for having perfectly normal sexual needs. I’m not a nancy boy and I’m not a frigging piece of wood. I’m a man who has been been asked to sleep beside a beautiful young woman, night after lonely night with nothing more than a cold, ‘Goodnight, Lucius’ after mind-blowing ‘no strings’ missionary sex. I’ve spent the last twelve years caged, unable to have any outlet for sexual practices I’ve enjoyed from my teens.

"Now you’ve effectively caged me again, this time in a sexual prison, taking what you want and clanging the cage door shut again. If you don’t want me, ME, the man behind the cock, I’m ready to find someone who does. If you want to live your life in the shadows, fine, but I refuse. I wanted to live with you and create some kind of life we could share, knowing it was the most comfortable and safe way to do it, but really trying to have a true relationship. Obviously you don’t feel the same.”

“Don’t you blame me for our stalemate,” Hermione raged, standing up behind the desk, her humiliation washed away by pure, white-hot temper. “I know I’m only a ‘lesser of two evils’ option for you. I’m not anyone you would choose otherwise. I’ve had two men do that to me already and I’m not going down that road again. Can you say you’re honestly enamored of me? That you would select me out of a crowd and want only me, if I weren’t the only one with the same secret background as you? If I weren’t the one you were tied to by the whole wizarding world the moment you entered Diagon Alley?”

She leaned forward, sparks shooting from her chocolate brown eyes as she glared at the angry face of the man she’d slowly been coming to care for. He didn’t really want her, either. He’d seen as she had, that living with anyone else would be essentially living a lie every day for the rest of their lives. Why was she always so stupid about men? Did she in truth have a self-destructive element to her make-up?

“No, Hermione, don’t think that. It’s not true.” Lucius couldn’t keep quiet at the disturbing thoughts running through her mind.

“Shut up! And stay out of my mind,” she ranted. She stepped away from the desk and strode toward the door.

“Are you angry because I haven’t spanked you again?” Lucius threw at her, turning to watch her stomp toward the door.

Hermione stopped dead at the door to the office, her hand on the knob. She was so astonished she turned and stared at the lecherous wizard. “What?!” She thought she was hearing incorrectly.

“Is this latest snit because I’ve been enjoying some harmless fun with the women here instead of chastely worshipping at your feet? Or are you really just jealous that you haven’t been included in my intimate pursuits?” Lucius broke eye contact and leaned back in the chair, facing away from the dumbfounded amazement in Hermione’s eyes.

Hermione blinked. She walked back around Lucius’ chair in something of a fog, coming to stand in front of him, her feet nearly touching his as he sprawled in the chair. Her expressive face mirrored her complete confusion. “Harmless? Is spanking them just harmless fun for you? Did you learn that in your Death Eater circle? How could you do that to them? They’re helpless victims of whatever perversion you decide to visit on them. That is despicable. Did you use an Imperius on them so you could have your deviant fun?” Hermione was so mixed up and her emotions were so tangled she wasn’t sure what she felt any more. The man she had reluctantly been accepting into her confidence had a hidden, brutal side to him that she hadn’t even suspected. And now he wondered if she had wanted that cruelty aimed at her?

Was this world completely topsy-turvy or was she missing something elementary? Spanking was depicted in a couple of the paintings she had blithely decided she would never do; one had a woman spanking the man, the other the man striking the woman. Hermione’s woman’s parts suddenly clenched in surprising desire. She’d felt this before, when she walloped him with her wand as he lay tied to the bed. She’d thought she was perverted for even feeling that unexpected lust. Were all these people truly perverted, too? Or was she incredibly naïve?

“Ask any of them if they’re forced to it, or hate it.” Lucius contemplated the little witch and her capacity for self-delusion. She hadn’t really hated the wand spanking he’d given her in his inflamed rage with her. He hadn’t truly hurt anything but her dignity. And she had certainly returned the favor with interest. Because of her surprising retaliation, he still held out hope for them. He didn’t want to be alone again among people he could never trust with his secret of the future. Twelve years of one’s own company was more than enough for a lifetime.

“You heard Margaret – unfortunately. It’s just an erotic variation of the sex act that I can provide without having actual relations with any of them. They know I won’t have sex with them and not because I have any notions of being better than they are. The Gods know before I got married I was in more brothels than I can remember and partook of every sport they had on offer. But these women work for me. They all know I will not go any farther over the employer-employee line and use their services for anything more than the spanking. And yet they still wanted simple reassurances that I found them appealing – women are the same in any age – so I instituted this stopgap situation for the enjoyment of all of us.” Lucius saw the dawning recognition on Hermione’s face that spanking was actually desired by the women – and him. And maybe her? Lucius hoped so.

“Are you pitting me against them? Why do you always try to push me into sex acts I don’t want to do? Why can’t you just do without? Isn’t what we’ve been doing enough for you?”

Lucius tried to explain himself in a way she could relate to, “If someone asked you to go without reading anything else but the dictionary, night after night, could you? That’s what you’re asking of me. Sex is my joy, my passion, my outlet and escape, just as reading a variety of different things is for you. Imagine being in prison for twelve years with only one book in your cell. I will assume you understand the ‘book’ I had at my disposal.” Lucius negligently raised his hand, wiggled his fingers, then lowered it back to the armrest.

Hermione blushed at Lucius’ not very subtle reference to his hand jobs.

“And I have never pushed you into anything you didn’t want to do. I have requested you to do various alternate forms of lovemaking, but each time you demurred, I let it drop. I’m not a sex fiend, I’m just a man who enjoys sex. And that includes spanking – and being spanked.”

She went back behind the desk and sat down, a little dazed. “But why?”

Lucius contemplated his tiny prude with some compassion, “Hermione, you got hurt early on and I’m assuming you never explored sex again until me. Frankly I was shocked when I discovered that you, the fierce, whip-smart fighter for your side, had obviously succumbed to that hurt and were so terribly stunted in your experience. You had always seemed so… so determined and forceful. What happened?”

Lucius gazed at her at a loss to understand her transformation. As a Death Eater Lucius had disliked her intensely, but he had always respected her fierce intelligence and the guile she had used against them. Now, for all she was a tigress in bed when the sex was vanilla, she was still afraid. Still holding herself aloof.

Hermione looked down at the blotter on the desk and deliberately recalled that evening with Ron at the restaurant, something she’d avoided doing for many years. She probed the recollection like one would test a sore tooth with one’s tongue and found that her lacerated feelings were muted now, rather like a watercolor that had faded in the sun.

When had she healed? When was the last time she’d attempted any sort of social interaction outside her immediate family? Her cocoon in the Ministry basement had fed her intellect and kept her in funds. Now she realized she wanted more. She had made a start with Lucius, indulging in mindless sex to assuage her body’s demands. She didn’t know if she wanted anything more than the rather proper sex he’d easily given over to her. But it was time to relinquish the hurt and anger – and shame – that Ron had bestowed on her so long ago. Roger had been a mistake with very bad timing, driving her further into herself at a very vulnerable moment in her life.

Hermione sighed and looked up at Lucius who had been waiting patiently for her to come back from wherever her mind had taken her. “I was engaged to Ron Weasley. We were due to be married in six weeks when he dumped me saying I was too intelligent for him and he didn’t want to spend his life feeling inadequate. Then I had a rebound affair, which ended badly, too. The whole war, the stress and sadness and loss had already run me into the ground. I guess Ron, more than the rebound affair, was the final blow.”

“Well, he was right after all.” Lucius sat at his ease in the chair.

“Who? Ron?”

“Yes, your red-headed Ron. He was correct that you were too intelligent for him. Even Draco thought so. He said that to me a few times wondering what you saw in the dim Weasley. Are you willing to hear that now?”

Hermione nodded slowly, “I’ve spent too much time letting his treatment of me ruin my life.”

“Agreed.” Lucius eyed his wife speculatively, “Now that you’ve discovered a form of sexual sport I enjoy, shall I continue with my pastime here or are you willing to explore this form of sex with me?” He sat forward, elbows on knees as he clasped his hands together in an unconscious appearance of supplication. His eyes remained wary, but his whole demeanor told Hermione this was important to him. He added, “My employees will understand if you don’t want to share. I’ve already established to their satisfaction that they are valuable members of this operation anyway. I don’t need to continue what has now eased into pure recreation.”

“You want to spank me? Or…or shall I spank you?” Hermione closed her eyes on her daring question and missed the sudden flare of hunger on Lucius’ face.

“Either one. Or both. I don’t care. I like it either way. You’re not repulsed? Will you truly consider it?” He watched the rosy blush creep up Hermione’s neck and bloom in her cheeks and waited.

“I…I…,” Hermione swallowed, then continued, “I’ll consider it.” She felt as though she had run a long distance race. Her heart was beating faster than a metronome for The Minute Waltz and she felt very warm and twitchy in her skin, but oddly a little liberated, too. Another chain link guarding her heart had weakened and fallen away. Hermione opened her eyes and beheld a gently smiling Lucius, one she didn’t think she’d ever seen before. He looked…boyish…hopeful. It occurred to her that she had just given him something he valued highly and she was surprised to realize that made her happy. Scared but happy.

Neither of them spoke of their tentative accord for the rest of the day. Lucius wanted his wife to come to her decision on her own, without any more coercion than he had applied already. His whole outlook and demeanor changed, though, as he felt perhaps he was finally going to be accepted with all his unusual facets by a woman who meant more to him with each passing day. Spanking wasn’t the only exotic bed sport he liked, but his other tastes could wait. Lucius was a happy man.


tbc...

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So...this changes Lucius' attitude toward the paintings for now. I'm not going to ask if I'm still in trouble. I don't want to know, being the marshmallow I am.

The hint of a new detente may be in the air. Cross your fingers.

Review link left, rating link right. Both can be used. Any loquacious lurkers today?
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