Prisoners of Love - A Mystery - COMPLETE

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Updated 10-17-07

Many thanks for all the kind reviews you've written. To answer a few questions:


Hinansho Draco is on the program. Later.


Citten You wanted the conversation where Lucius tells Hermione about the dinner-dance. Here 'tis.


Chellybelle The Malfoy mansion is also on the program. Later.


Lucius is very busy organizing his wife for her future...


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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Redesigning Hermione

“A dinner-dance? At the Wiltshire Wizards Country Club? With your crowd? Why on earth would I want to go there?” Hermione saw herself waddling around, inimical stares and rude comments bombarding her on all sides from the snobby upper crust who wouldn’t even have given her a nod in passing at Diagon Alley. She put down “Ollivander’s Compleat History of Wands” to glare at her husband and his horrid idea.

“It’s a see and be seen event, our annual fundraiser for Hogwarts.” Lucius leaned forward in his comfy chair, setting aside an invoice for unicorn manure for his greenhouses. He wondered if he should change suppliers as this one was getting outrageous with his prices. “I’ve put together a few ideas to keep Hogwarts firmly in black ink instead of red. Under Dumbledore, it usually hovered around the light pink mark. The school is very expensive to run and always needs infusions of money. The Ministry has never given it enough to operate smoothly, and under old pennypincher Scrimgeour the funds have become even more sparse.”

“I’m not in the best shape for dancing just now, Lucius. Can’t you explain I’m not up to it?”

“Absolutely not. Invitations to the dinner-dance have become sought-after items for my circle, many of whom will drop quite a nice amount of Galleons that evening so I need you to attend. Word is out that I’m married again and if you don’t show up at my side rumors will fly faster than a seeker after a snitch. That would be damaging to my social standing which in turn would damage my financial interests.”

Lucius wanted to use the dinner-dance to introduce his wife to his world. It was a function where he held sway as the instigator of the Hogwarts fundraiser and there would be less nastiness for both of them by others if she made her first appearance there. Word could flow out from the dance about Lucius’ Muggleborn wife. He would make certain everyone understood he wouldn’t tolerate overt hostility and any reluctance had better be covert or heads would roll. Possibly literally. A slightly vulpine smile etched his lips and narrowed his eyes as he looked forward to the fray. His continued erections were worth a few disgruntled Purebloods.

“Lucius, you’re richer than a Gringott’s goblin already.” Hermione didn’t like the glint in his eyes. She really didn’t feel good about his fundraiser evening.

“And this is how I keep it that way,” Lucius said inflexibly, brooking no more argument from his disputatious spouse. “You’re going. I’ll have Madam Malkin come to you and take your measurements. She’ll have a long gown ready for you and I’ll see to it that she includes all the extras, like matching underwear. I suppose you can wear your hair in that curly disarray we both prefer. Madam can create something that will set off your hair so you don’t have to be bothered with a hairstylist too.”

Lucius loved Hermione’s curly locks, but he spent a few moments tossing around in his mind whether or not he did need to have her shiny, brown ringlets tamed by a stylist for the fundraiser so the other males of his clique wouldn’t be intrigued by them like he was. He couldn’t be responsible if one of his associates began sniffing around his wife. No one else would be permitted to encroach on his tidbit. She was his wife and she belonged solely to him.

In the end he decided that she would be capable of turning away any unwanted solicitations – if they were unwanted… At that point Lucius shut off the unprofitable avenue of thought. For now her advanced state of pregnancy should keep her safe. He dismissed the unsettling, jealous ideas from his mind. It only brought on his anger and he didn’t need the distraction right now.

Unaware of Lucius’ medieval cogitations, Hermione returned sarcastically, “You are soooo good to me, Lucius. I don’t know how I managed to get along without you for the first twenty-two years of my life.”

Hermione felt railroaded into the unpleasant situation - she would rather have faced a roomful of teenage Slytherin harpies. Oh! Wait! She was going to be in a roomful of teenage Slytherin harpies – and their mothers and grandmothers. But she could see Lucius wasn’t going to accept a refusal and his irascible expression told Hermione that she needed to unearth her dancing shoes.

Her shoulders slumped as she faced the inevitable, “All right. I’ll go. But I want you to stay with me. Don’t abandon me to those people or I’ll leave the dance by myself.” Hermione got up from her chair, “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” She attempted to stalk out of the room in high dudgeon showing her displeasure, but she suspected her slow, rolling gait diluted the effect of her exit.

Lucius merely nodded, already thinking about how best to visually present his wife to that horde of cultured barbarians. He decided to have Hermione dressed to match one of his own richly caparisoned evening robes, providing a united front. A quick visit to the owl shed in the tiny backyard solved that problem with a message to Madam Malkin and he went on to the next – jewelry. He knew exactly what he wanted her to wear from his collection to go with the color he’d told Madam Malkin to use. He wanted the sapphires and diamonds he’d thought would accent her gown the evening they had gone to her parents’ home. He would have to get them out and also have a smaller set of earrings made for her smaller features. Another owl sent to his longtime jewelers solved that problem, too.

An hour later, Lucius had organized all the details he felt necessary for presenting his wife to his peers and was ready for bed himself. He entered their bedroom to see his wife tucked up and fast asleep. Lucius had gotten his way so he was feeling rather amorous and he didn’t want to wait for morning when Hermione might awaken first and leave the bed before he could entice her into staying for a while.

He went to the closet, grimacing at the wild array of colors, and removed his clothing, carefully putting everything away. He stood in front of the open closet doors for a moment, hands on hips inhaling the scent of perfume he’d come to rely on as his personal aphrodisiac, then turned and stepped toward the bed primed with a heavy erection.

“Hermione,” Lucius crooned softly, stripping the covers off his slumbering little witch. “Wake up, tidbit, I need you.” He leaned down over her, nuzzling his face into her curly mop and delicately licking a few sworls around her ear, before wandering farther down to nip gently at the join of her neck and shoulder.

“Go ’way…sleeeeepy,” she replied, swatting at him ineffectually before dropping off into deeper sleep again.

Lucius stood back and assessed the situation, visually investigating his choices of attack. Frontal was a possibility, but she was quite close to the edge of the bed facing it, so he would need to back her up to gain a foothold on the mattress surface for himself. He idly started stroking himself while he evaluated his options.

He stepped back to the bureau and lifted his wand, aiming it at the voluminous nightgown currently devouring his wife. A brief, muttered spell and the nightgown disappeared. Good riddance, he thought. That disgusting bit of flannel wasn’t any better than the horrid one she’d worn in prison, maybe even worse as it was a bilious shade of cheap whore pink. She knew he didn’t like her to wear anything to bed. She was just angry with him for the dinner dance.

Hermione slept through her disrobing, only curling up more from the cooler air hitting her skin on all fronts.

Lucius admired his little nude possession, his eyes softening as they roamed over the rounded mass at her middle, before getting back to his goal for the evening. He wanted someplace to put his clamoring hard-on and his inclination was for something a bit more adventurous than between those pretty pink pussy lips she was displaying in her fetal position. He knew what he wanted and he wasn’t going to stop now. She was his wife and she needed to provide a bit more titillating entertainment than they’d been indulging in so far in her beloved hovel. He hoped she would accept his sexual variation. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing reamed.

Lucius disappeared into the bathroom for some ointment he’d optimistically packed from his own bathroom on the estate when he’d moved in and then walked around to the other side of the bed and slid in behind his comatose wife, easing up behind her and cuddling her spoon fashion.

Hermione responded to the warmth behind her by subconsciously wiggling backward into his chest, but still she slept on.

Perfect! Lucius grinned to himself. He opened the ointment and liberally applied it to the entire surface of his now hotly pulsing erection. Setting the small jar aside, he reached around to the front of his snoozing wife and seductively slid a hand down over her baby-mound and into the soft nest of curls below, parting her petals and easing into a gentle friction, dipping deeper, then retreating to her sensitive nubbin, back and forth, monotonously, lulling her into a relaxed half-waking dreaminess, soothing her into a blissful contentment with her world. His other hand he pushed under and around her ribcage to rub and squeeze her breasts in time with the movement of his slickening fingers.

When he saw her move her head back, baring her throat he gave her what she was angling for, tiny nips along her neck interspersed with licks and sucking kisses, marking her as his property. Lucius raised his head a bit to see his handiwork, admiring the row of red marks now adorning her skin like a living ruby necklace.

Hermione moaned then gave a great sigh of serene repletion. Her body became pliant, accepting his touch languidly.

That was what Lucius had been waiting for – Hermione was limp as a melted chocolate frog left in the sun. He moved his thighs up below hers, slid his knee between her legs and used his slickened fingers to bring his well-greased tool to her little puckered rosette. The hand that had been fondling her breasts now became a muscled band around her ribs holding her still for his slow penetration of her rear orifice.

Hermione woke up in a rush. “Dammit, Lucius what do you think you’re doing?”

Lucius chuckled near her ear, “My dear, what does it feel like I’m doing?” He held her while he pushed slowly forward, feeling her wiggling resistance to his immersion in her anal body cavity. “Relax, my pet, you know what I want. Don’t try to tell me you’re not interested. You’ve known all along where I was going with this. You’re no more a beginner at it than I am and we both know you like me inside you this way.” They had explored quite a few different positions and orifices in prison, so his current enterprise wasn’t anything she hadn’t enthusiastically participated in before. But that had been before their estrangement and he hadn’t been confident she would wish to resume their spicy sex life. Her husband soothed his grumpy lover, “We can play brutal barbarian and the virgin martyr another time when you’re not so tired, I promise. Tonight, just relax and enjoy.” Lucius pushed more firmly, pressing the glans through and letting the pressure of his intrusion make up her mind for her.

“Oh, very well,” she huffed and relaxed her sphincter so he could go deeper. “But I’m mad at you.” As Lucius’ penis prowled further into his wife’s body, seating itself more thoroughly, he ran his hand back down to her sopping folds, eliciting a sudden intake of feminine breath followed by the word he most loved hearing her say, “Luuuuucius, Luuuuucius!”

The dark wizard stepped up his onslaught, beginning a slow steady rhythm as Hermione pressed her bum back against him, working with his body in the way they had perfected in their cell.

“Oooooh, sweet Hecate, you’re big,” Hermione groaned, but giggled when he blew hot air into her ear. “This is the only time I ever wish you were smaller.” She distinctly remembered the first time he had brought up the idea of alternative lovemaking. A light snicker escaped her lips between increasingly rapturous moans. She had been so horrified, thinking she had married a monster with degenerate, deviant proclivities. He had kept after her to try it, though, and she had finally given in when he promised he would stop if it hurt her too much.

What a gargantuan lie that had been. She had wanted to stop almost immediately, but he had forged ahead, deaf to her frightened entreaties until he had settled himself entirely inside her. By that time she was trying to hit him any way she could and she nearly emasculated him, discovering that if she lifted her leg she could smack his balls, but he evaded the first attempt, laughing at her! She was mad as fire, but he calmly said the worst was already over and why was she fighting him? She may as well find out if she liked it.

They both had taken a breather while Hermione’s poor arsehole had slowly accustomed itself to his invasion. When Lucius decided it was time, he had begun to show her the erotic dance she came quickly to enjoy and now it was as if no time had elapsed and they were indulging in one of their intimate sessions on their doubled-up cots.

“Mmmmm, so good, Lucius,” she purred as he tended both to her rear and her sensitive nerve center amid the tender folds of her woman’s secret place.

“I want to go deeper, harder,” Lucius murmured, exciting his little lover with his velvet growls in her ear.

“Oh, please, Lucius, please, yes, I want…I want that too,” Hermione begged, so aroused she was grabbing his hand between her legs and moving it more fiercely against her clit.

Lucius sped up, establishing a harsher rhythm, bringing a heavier, more concentrated focus to her core, pressing hard on her clit with his thumb and running his long, manicured fingers up inside her sheath, using three digits to stretch her and simultaneously rub himself through the back of her female passage, exciting his burgeoning tool in her backside even more.

Their voices blended in their mutual praise of each other’s skill, each goading the other with moans, sighs, groans and mewls, until finally Hermione reached the edge without warning and toppled over the precipice tightening up and convulsing around Lucius’ member as she screamed somewhere up in a decibel range he wished only a dog could hear.

He clutched her entire mound in his fist squeezing her privates as she climaxed, trying to stave off his own orgasm, but he couldn’t do anything except follow her over into the pit, too.

They lay joined for a few minutes as their breathing slowed down to something they could control again, then Lucius gently disengaged and pulled his wife back into his arms again spoon-fashion, being careful of his unborn’s resting place. Lucius was sappily grinning at nothing much, his chin resting on Hermione’s curls when he was shocked by a nasty pinch on his arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” he complained, coming down off his passion cloud.

“You owe me a nightgown,” his nemesis said, settling herself more solidly into her husband’s arms and closing her eyes.

“Well, hell! No pinching. NO PINCHING! You need to overcome that habit, tidbit. It’s extremely aggravating.” No answer.

He smiled to himself as he saw that once again his wife was fast asleep. I believe this is where I came in, he thought, happily satiated even with the new bruise on his arm. He groggily accio’d his wand to tidy them both and then his eyelids drooped and he relaxed into slumber behind her.



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The first voice was exultant, “Malfoy is due to attend the Charity Dinner Dance with his wife. This may be our break. Nothing has happened at the Ministry yet and our plan seems safe enough if we can remove those two before Malfoy and that efficient bitch-witch he married pursue any more inquiries.”

“You think there’s a chance we can remove them when they attend the dance?” the second voice wondered, intrigued.

“She’s nearing the end of a pregnancy according to some things Arthur Weasley has said, so she’s likely not doing much else. I don’t know where they’re living and I can’t get anything from any of her friends in idle conversation. I don’t want to appear too interested.”

“Well wherever they are it must be somewhere in the magic world because Malfoy would never set foot in the Muggle world, even for her.”

“He apparates wherever he goes so I can’t follow him. It’s extremely provoking. One would think he knew he was being followed.” The first voice sounded more petulant than usual and the second voice wondered, not for the first time, if his associate was entirely sane.

“It’s he who is causing the faint ripples I’m sensing, I’m sure of it.” The first voice continued. “There are ‘innocent’ questions being asked here and there by Scrimgeour now. I’m not sure it’s anything, but Malfoy needs to be silenced. I don’t want him and Scrimgeour to compare notes either. They’re each one cleverer than Salazar Slytherin. Put them together and we may as well quit now. The dance seems like an excellent opportunity.”

“You don’t mind removing her when she’s pregnant?” the second voice asked.

“If you are more concerned with her halfblood Malfoy spawn than being sentenced to a Dementor’s kiss, just let me know.”

“You’re right. So what shall we do?”

The two conspirators decided on a simple plan to take out both Malfoys at once.

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tbc...

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Lucius and Hermione are finding some rapport, but unfortunately the villains aren't through with them.


All reviews are happily accepted. I hope you liked this chapter. Dinner-dance up next.

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