Prisoners of Love - A Mystery - COMPLETE

___________________________________________________


Updated 10-14-07


I appreciate all your careful reviews and I hope you're enjoying the deepening mystery.

To answer a few questions:

Utopia You recognized his lie and said, "What a FIB Lucius!" Oh, Lucius is extremely accomplished at prevarication, disinformation, and misdirection. He could teach a course on the nuances of saying one thing and meaning another. It's one area where Hermione will need to do some extensive retraining, I'm afraid. And yes, her goal was to marry him after that soul-touching kiss and mind meld. She wasn't entirely happy about it, but recognized the inevitability. What job do you want after uni? Something in molecular biology? Size zero is a US size. Very tiny. Yes, Lucius rides. He has a whole stable of various winged equines.

Scary Bear Hair You gave me another 'lightbulb over my head' moment. I guess I AM the one designing Lucius as complex, but I'm giving due recognition to Jason Isaacs' performances in the role. He made all the layers that I see in my mind.

And for everyone who mentioned Hermione's erratic hormones, she's not done yet...


___________________________________________________

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I Missed You

Hermione sat looking blindly at the piles of parchments, fluctuating between anger and amusement at her stupid, snappish attitude. It was sexual frustration, pure and simple, but she had no intention of letting her overbearing husband in on that fact. So instead I start an argument with him? Great! That’s not going to get him naked in bed with me. She sighed dropping her chin into the palm of her hand, resting her elbow among the rolls of parchment she’d worked on tirelessly to get this lordly, conniving man free from his cell.

She was mad for him and mad at him. Her pregnancy hormones were on a seesaw and she didn’t know what she wanted from one minute to the next. She had wanted him to acknowledge her work on his appeal, but when he did, she blew up at him. Having him come home to her so naturally as though they were just another wholesome married couple made her both elated and furious and she was HORNY!! Damn him anyway.

The night before, after dinner with her parents, she’d been exhausted from worrying about the explosive possibilities between Lucius and her folks. That nothing happened had been an overwhelming relief and the letdown of stress had made her so instantly sleepy she had barely gotten through brushing her teeth; she didn’t remember anything more the whole night. This morning, she’d slept a bit late and been alarmed to find Lucius missing from the bed, banging pans in the kitchen. She’d wound up eating eggs with charcoal fringe, then Lucius had disappeared for the day. Hermione had missed him and didn’t want to miss the flaxen-haired rogue – not that much anyway. A faint echo of her earlier headaches had returned to plague her until she decided to do something more constructive with her afternoon than sit around wishing Lucius would return.

There was a dinner of sorts almost ready for them to eat when Lucius returned from wherever he’d gone in her Lilliputian house, but apparently he wasn’t immediately returning to her after hanging up his cape. Well, she couldn’t blame him when his innocent question had resulted in her waspish backchat.

Hermione pulled herself up from her seat at the dining room table, leaving the mass of parchments where they lay and walked down the hallway to find her husband and apologize. She looked in the parlor but he wasn’t there so she moved on toward the closed door of their bedroom. Odd, she hadn’t left it closed earlier. Was Lucius angry enough to shut himself up in the bedroom to get away from her? Hermione hesitated with her hand on the knob, reluctant to open the door on a possibly uncomfortable scene she herself had precipitated. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she turned the knob and entered the bedroom.

What greeted her sent her breath clean out of her body. Lucius lay sprawled supine, absolutely naked, hands behind his head on the bed which had been remade with dark green satin sheets and pillowcases, but her jaw dropped at the large vase of blood-red roses on the nightstand next to it.

Lucius smiled at his little witch-wife blinding her with the sensual gleam in his beautiful, pale eyes as he raked her roly-poly form with obvious desire. His welcoming glow faded, though, as he realized Hermione had started to cry. Lucius rose immediately from his relaxed position coming straight over to the sobbing mama-to-be, pulling her against him and rocking her as she clung to his waist.

“What have I done wrong, now? I wanted to surprise you, not hurt you.” He continued to rock her as she just cried harder. “The roses. You don’t like roses. I brought them from my greenhouse when I was at home today. I’ll toss them. Just stop crying. Please? And I’ll change the sheets to red if you like. What’s wrong, Hermione?”

Hermione shook her head against Lucius’ pecs. She knew she was making everything worse and tried to slow down the waterworks, snuggling harder against the bare chest of her handsome mate. He even smelled good! A few more sobs escaped before she reined in her outburst with a determined sniff.

“Nothing’s wrong. Every…sniff…thing’s…sniff… wooooonnnderful,” she wailed, going off again.

“Yes, I can see that,” Lucius said a little sardonically but he kissed the top of her head and merely waited out the waterfall.

A minute or so later, Hermione finally calmed down enough to reassure the alarmed man in her arms, “I’m sorry, Lucius. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m…I’m…,” she didn’t want to admit the source of her anger.

“You were hot for me, I know that,” said Lucius matter-of-factly.

“Wha…? How did you know? You couldn’t possibly have known that.” Hermione looked up at a pair of twinkling gray eyes lit with amusement.

“Your scent was overwhelming. Wet knickers, right? And those nipples could have put my eyes out, they were so pointy. I’m not a novice at sex. I’m a few years older than you, remember?” Lucius’ mouth turned up wryly at that understatement. “What I guess I didn’t expect was the meltdown at some roses and green sheets. I thought we were in tune with us both wanting sex. It appears I’m not as clever as I thought. I didn’t mean to upset you, tidbit.” Lucius was gently peeling the clothes off his wife as he soothed her lacerated feelings. Her scent was still overwhelming and he figured she might yet be amenable to some before-dinner sex. He wanted her badly, so badly he’d gone to the trouble of bringing her the roses and some sexy sheets from his own collection, trying to set a romantic atmosphere.

Hermione signaled her approval of his idea and his removal of her clothing by helping him and simultaneously licking his chest, then wandering over to enthusiastically greet one male nipple. She heard his sharp gasp and continued her foray, making equal time for his other nipple. There was something poking insistently below her belly, trying to get up and around the protruding mound of the baby so she mushed herself on the rigid length of the impertinent, eager hard-on earning another, longer gasp and moan. Her little hands crept down from his waist to his solid butt muscles, which got a succession of alternating firm squeezes.

“Can we adjourn to the sheets, tidbit? You can keep squeezing if you like, just let me inside you while you’re doing it.” Lucius was already panting, not a good sign for any longevity of foreplay in bed. He was still a bit out of practice, but everything just felt so good. SHE felt good. And she smelled like warm, come-hither sex. He didn’t want to wait any more. He lifted his petite wife and placed her gently on the sheets coming down beside her instead of over her as she had instructed him.

Lucius slid his fingers into that wildly arousing honey brown mane at her nape, flexing his digits into the curls with each squeeze she gave his butt, and diving in for a long, wet, soul-satisfying kiss. Oh Gods, he needed that kiss, pressing himself up against her belly as he delivered his tongue in the scorching open-mouthed invasion he’d been fantasizing about all day.

He was lost to their salacious battle of tongues so it was Hermione who corralled what she’d been fantasizing about with her fingers and aimed it at her sopping crotch. She pinched the cushioned tip, feeling his jerking reaction, then sent the happily abused organ into its home away from home. Loud appreciative groans filled the quiet bedroom, as two bodies merged and parted, merged and parted in an age-old rhythm. For once Lucius was mostly incoherent, wishing he could climb inside both his wife’s mouth and sheath at once. He knew he couldn’t succeed, but he was having the most marvelous time attempting the impossible feat anyway.

All too soon, the gasping and hissing got more frantic as the two lovers reached for their own piercing pinnacles, coming together in a mutual explosion of sensation, holding each other tightly while the waves of their beautiful, racking climaxes rolled over them both, enhanced by their mental bridge.

Finally, two pairs of arms relaxed their clutching holds and they settled together in an exhausted heap, Hermione’s curls tucked under Lucius’ chin. They were both trying to learn how to breathe normally again, gulping in tortured inhalations of air, idly petting slick torsos and dozing a bit.

Hermione filled her lungs and this time smelled the delightful scent of the hothouse roses, a special treat in the dead of winter. She peered over her husband’s shoulder at the lovely blooms and started to cry again.

“What? Hermione, did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” Lucius’ relaxed mood dissipated and he tensed, leaning away to better see his wife.

Hermione shook her head again, “The flowers are so wonderful, Lucius. I’m sooo happy…”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m officially declining to include you on the estate hothouse tour when I show your father through the place. I don’t think I can bear for you to be any happier.” Lucius got a watery chuckle and a painful pinch on his bum, but that made him feel better, knowing she was back on form. He decided to introduce another subject since his wife was in what he thought was a good mood, “I have found a way to floo from your home. Remember you asked me to find a way?”

“Yes?” Hermione was instantly wary of the new topic.

“I can transfigure a fireplace off the back of your house on that wallspace near your pantry and put a glamour on it so no one else can see it. I can come and go without constantly apparating, which is starting to give me a vicious headache because of the distance I have to travel and the frequency. When we move to my home, I can put your home back as it was.” Lucius waited for his plan to be digested by his spouse. “Well?”

“I didn’t know the apparating was hurting you, Lucius. You should have said. I suppose we need to find some way for you to come and go without it hurting you. I don’t want that. But won’t the Ministry know about my fireplace connection to the floo network? Is that safe?” Hermione wasn’t sure who wanted to find her, but it seemed logical that it would be someone from the Ministry where she had first run afoul of whoever her enemy was.

“You needn’t concern yourself with any unwelcome interference from the Ministry,” averred Lucius, complacence coloring his voice. “I have a private floo network not attached directly to the Ministry’s system.”

Hermione stared at her husband, “Lucius, that’s illegal.” Then she laughed, “Listen to me. I’m instructing a Death Eater on proscribed practices. I’m not going to get into trouble with a bootleg fireplace, am I?”

“Hermione, the value of a private floo is the fact that it’s private. My – ah, excuse me, OUR family has had the private floo system for many years. It served the Death Eaters very well during and before the war. Now that you are a Malfoy, my dear, I’ll expect the secret to stay in our family.” He brought one of his icier stares to bear on his witch-wife.

Hermione sighed, “Very well, I understand.” She wasn’t much enamored of the Ministry at the moment either. “I am to floo from my future fireplace only to -” she questioned her mate with a sardonic eyebrow, “your home? Any room in particular in your home or are they all okay to use?”

“You may use any of my fireplaces from here. Your new floo connection will only travel to my home. It will not take you anywhere else. Then, if you wish to go to my estate, that shouldn’t be as onerous as apparating.” Lucius looked expectantly at Hermione, silently asking if she would at least visit his estate.

“Yes, go ahead and make a fireplace on that wall. And no thank you, I think I’ll stay here. I’m comfortable in my own surroundings and I’m not ready to be spoiled by your posh environment. Not yet.” Hermione hadn’t known Lucius was being injured by the many apparations he performed each day. She felt rather badly about it, but was cheered that he was willing to court pain to be with her. She knew her logic was skewed but didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around his waist, happy that his body was gaining more weight again.

After a few more minutes of relaxing on the sleek green sheets, Lucius inquired, “What’s for dinner? I’m famished. My lunch was hurried and minimal. I could eat a Hungarian Horntail.” Now that he had his fireplace his appetite had taken over as the main item to conquer.

“Mmmm,” Hermione was burying her face in Lucius’ chest, rubbing her cheek on his pecs, putting off the moment she had to leave her snug spot in his arms.

“Hermione,” Lucius jiggled her arm, “Hermione? I’m hungry. If you aren’t feeling energetic enough, I’ll understand. I can fix us something, I’m sure. What do you have for me to cook?” Lucius had decided he was a budding Five Star chef and Hermione had to look sharp to keep her overachiever out of her kitchen without letting on that his talents were underappreciated and downright scary at times.

“Mmph,” she moaned, rising, “No, it’s all fixed. If you can unfold the gateleg table and set it with plates and utensils, I’ll get it out.” She wandered over to the closet and threw her robe around her shoulders, leaving for the kitchen before Lucius could make any mischief.

Lucius lay in bed for another minute smiling at nothing in particular and cataloging one by one all the sated muscles in his body in supreme contentment. He had won his fireplace connection and he really did get a tiny bit of headache now and then from the lengthy apparating. Soon he too rose and slipped on his robe, sauntering barefoot to the kitchen to set the table. He realized the dining table was still full of the parchments, so the gateleg table was his only choice. He pulled out the table leaf, gathered the necessary things and fixed two place settings, adding the milk bottle from the fridge so Hermione would drink some. He had a vague idea milk was good for mothers-to-be so he would encourage her by placing it near her plate.

Hermione had reluctantly bowed to his request and had told him the name of her obstetrician, giving him all the information he might need in case of emergency. He was living with her now and it was important for him to be fully informed on her pregnancy. He would never run a business deal with as little information as she had initially given him and so he had told her in no uncertain terms. She hadn’t liked the analogy, but had conceded he should know the particulars of her natal history and healer. The health of her baby was more important than her feelings of intrusion by her spouse.

“Is this the first course?” Lucius asked, his mood slipping from replete to anxious, when he saw the bowl of soup and bread slices appear at his place.

“Lucius, we’ve had this discussion before. No second, third, fourth or fifth courses. ONE course.” She had known he wasn’t going to like the minestrone soup, except as an appetizer, but she’d been working on the parchments nearly all day and had only had time to open a few tins of soup which she’d supplemented with some cooked pasta.

Lucius’ mood went from anxious to scandalized, “Soup isn’t a main course. It’s just a -”

“Here,” Hermione said, “you can eat my share, too.” She plunked her bowl down beside his on the table. I’ll butter some more bread for you, too, and I hope that will be enough. Okay?” Maybe she shouldn’t have thrown out Aggie’s shepherd pie. Lucius might have been hungry enough to eat it, even though Aggie’s cooking skills were on a par with the Azkaban cooks. Lucius had eaten their stuff. Oh well, too late now.

“So I’m the mean old villain again. This time I’m stealing food from my pregnant wife and unborn child. Is there anything too dastardly for me to sink to in my depraved career?” Lucius sat back and folded his arms over his chest, glowering in extreme annoyance at his wife. Well it had been nirvana while it lasted, Lucius groused to himself. Maybe he should bring the roses into the kitchen. He certainly wasn’t getting much benefit now from their placement in the bedroom.

“No,” she sighed, “this time, I’m the mean old villain. I failed to use my time better and make us dinner. I’m sorry. I had so wanted to feed you up and put more weight back on you. I’m not doing very well, am I?” I can have some bread and butter and some marmalade. And the milk you’ve brought out. That was thoughtful.” Hermione went to get the marmalade jar and brought it and more bread to the table.

“You need to eat nourishing food and I’m pretty sure marmalade isn’t one of the important food groups, being mostly sugar,” Lucius grumbled. I’ll have the marmalade sandwiches and half a bowl of soup. I want you to eat the rest of the vegetable soup – that will be better for the baby. You already know I like marmalade,” he nodded slightly in an ironic smile, his lips twitching. “Give me the bread. I’m still starving and I want something to eat right now. This will do as well as anything. My taste buds are dead from prison anyway.”

Hermione chuckled at the truth of his remark and eased one bowl back over to her place, delicately spooning up a few mouthfuls as she watched Lucius make two creditable sandwiches using the butter and marmalade dexterously. A tiny snicker escaped as she noted her big, bad Death Eater had acquired a new skill that he would likely never have had without living with her.

“I heard that,” Lucius kept buttering the bread. “Go right ahead and laugh. But I think you must know by now that I am nothing if not adaptable. Merlin knows I’ve had to be in the past few years. I do think I’ve eaten more sandwiches since coming here than I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. I won’t starve now, if I’m ever stranded in Muggle territory.” Lucius poured himself and Hermione some milk and quickly ate, leaving half the second bowl for his wife to eat under his uncompromising supervision. Soon all the food was gone. He really had been very hungry and it looked like Hermione had been pretty hungry too. His sandwiches finished and his hunger appeased, Lucius was feeling very domestic and relaxed. This ‘rustic’ life did have a few things to recommend it.

The kitchen was cleaned up in a trice with wands waving around, and the two sated Malfoys adjourned to the parlor to spend a cozy evening. The only disruption to the evening was when Lucius dropped the bombshell that Hermione was expected to go with him to a dinner-dance in three days.

tbc...

___________________________________________________
___________________________________________________

Is Lucius showing any progress as a husband? Hmmm...

I love your reviews. I hope you have enough material in this chapter to have some opinions on their evolving marital relationship. 8-)
.
.