The Wedding - COMPLETE

____________________________________________________________________
Updated 1-18-07

I have hugely enjoyed your reviews. As any author will tell you, they are pure gold and highly desired, so thank you all for taking the time to review. In appreciation, here is Chapter Three. No lemons in this chapter, but I suspect this story is going to have a whole lemon grove when it's finished. 8-)
__________________________________________________________________

Chapter Three


Dinner and Discovery


Lucius turned at the knock on his door. An elf relayed the message that his wife was entering the dining room. He’d asked to be notified so he wouldn’t keep her waiting. Lucius apparated down to the formal dining room just as Hermione was moving toward her seat at the long mahogany table. The dining room was verboten territory for Crookshanks, so they were undisturbed by the little furry martinet.


The high gloss of the table reflected the crystal chandelier high in the coffered ceiling. Lucius hurried to hold her chair for her as he always did. It was an ingrained part of him he knew Hermione admired - his elegant manners - indoctrinated in him just like his Malfoy superiority. Maybe tonight she’d learn to like a bit more about him. She thanked him and sat and Lucius went to his own place right across from her. They both sat at one end of the long table, which could easily seat twenty.


Lucius slipped quickly into his chair and dropped his linen napkin onto his lap. He was having a bit of trouble hiding his eager body from her. He’d worn a loose, charcoal, heavy silk robe to disguise his unruly organ, not knowing what else to do. He didn’t think that would really scare her off, however. He had a pretty shrewd idea that fear of sex wasn’t going to be a problem tonight, what with both their hands needing a vacation.


They settled down to their meal of poached sole, neither one tasting a single bite. Hermione kept toying with her silverware and sneaking looks at the man who was going to be doing Hecuba only knew what to her in an hour. She was half impatient, and half scared spitless about her performance. Her imagination was rioting, trying to think what his sexual expertise would be like. Was he rough or was he sensuously erotic? She thought she might like some of both. Or a lot of both. Her knickers were already soaked; she sincerely hoped that when he pulled out her chair at the end of the meal and she rose, the damask seat wouldn’t show a wet spot.


Lucius tortured himself, completely absorbed in watching Hermione sliding her fork in and out of her mouth. He was already so aroused that just seeing the little witch eat her fish was sending him beyond horny. Oh noooo, NOT the mashed potatoes! Gods! Now she was licking her fork. Lucius barely held back a masculine groan. How was he ever going to get through dessert without having an accident under his robe? His hands actually shook with lust too long denied and he had to put his own silverware down, trying to get a grip on his raging libido.


He’d waited far, far too long for sex, trying to match her disinterest, but he knew with despair he could never have held out against her less intense needs. She would have the upper hand for the rest of the year if she ever truly understood just how desperate he got for sex. His astute mind saw the danger to himself and he realized his only defense was an all-out erotic offense, making her addicted to sex, too. As much as he could, anyway. He needed to shield himself from her rule as much as possible, protecting himself by offering up his brand of sensual, shattering, Slytherin sex, which was all he had to give her. He was well aware it was all she would want from him.


Lucius had hoped to apparate them both straight up to his bedroom after dinner, but looking quickly down at his lap, he reconsidered. Having his robe tenting that far out from his body was going to give the game away before it started. He sneaked another peek downward. It certainly didn’t look very dignified. It made him look kind of…pregnant. Why had he thought a loose robe was a good idea, anyway?


And that brought up another thought that they had better discuss now before the evening’s carnal festivities got underway. Lucius caught her eyes with his own mesmerizing ones, “Hermione, I think we need to understand each other’s views on children. Do you want my babies?”


Hermione’s fork clattered to her plate. She stared down at her food like she’d never seen broccoli with hollandaise before. Why didn’t I think of that? Sweet Goddess, what DO I think about children – with Lucius Malfoy? She had been so sure it wasn’t even an issue with him that she’d never considered it. Her mind went blank.


Lucius didn’t think that blank stare was very complimentary to him. Another hurt enveloped him with the side effect of wilting his tent pole a little. Okay, so now a second wife didn’t want his children. He could cope with that. Of course, he could. Hadn’t he gotten past the pain of Narcissa’s refusal to have more heirs? Lucius’ chin unconsciously came up and he said, “Never mind. I see that the idea doesn’t appeal. That’s an answer to my question.” He started doggedly plowing through the rest of his meal to be finished with the demeaning position he was in. What was so wrong with him that no one wanted his babies? The tent pole disappeared.


Hermione looked up and saw Lucius quickly eating the last of his dinner. If she had been looking at him, she probably would have noticed only his bald words of rebuff without any of the nuances. But she’d been looking down, seeing nothing, only hearing his voice. And she knew she’d hurt him. She didn’t want to cause him anguish for her silliness about having his children. Hermione was married to him for the rest of their lives. If she wanted children, he was it for their father, and apparently he was actually offering. “Lucius, I admit you’ve caught me completely by surprise. I guess I always thought you would never want a child with a Muggleborn. When Arthur told me that he wanted us to marry, I resigned myself to no children. Do you really want me to have our babies? Is that what you’re asking?”


Lucius’ heart thudded in his chest. He looked over at Hermione with what he thought was a show of icy indifference, but his eyes revealed his yearning like twin spotlights on his soul.


Hermione’s breath caught at that look. A small private piece of the puzzle of Lucius’ marriage to Narcissa had just been inadvertently bared and Hermione wished she hadn’t seen it. She picked her next words with care, “Speaking for myself, I’d very much like children. I realize it’s probably not what you’d prefer, allowing a Muggleborn to bear your children, but I’d love a few babies to liven up this place. Merlin knows, it has enough room. You have Draco to carry on the Malfoy pure bloodline, so maybe we could have other children and it wouldn’t be too harsh a penance for you to pay for this marriage. What was your view?” Hermione tried to look just a little beseeching, but didn’t want to overplay her hand. Lucius was as sharp as a serpent’s tooth.


Lucius studied his wife’s face. He wanted more children. He’d always wanted more children. He was aware he hadn’t been a very good father to Draco, but he had tried the only way he knew how. Lucius banished the memory of Draco being sent to kill Dumbledore. He had failed miserably at protecting his son there, even if he hadn’t known beforehand of the plot.


Lucius never spent much time analyzing his mistakes because he rarely admitted to them, instead just burying their memories in a remote corner of his mind, so he didn’t have a very good idea of why he had failed at fatherhood. He had never put together his behavior with the fact that his own father, Abraxas, had been a distant, intimidating figure whom his son had learned to avoid. Lucius certainly hadn’t had much of a pattern of fatherhood to follow.


The Malfoy family hadn’t run to overt emotion, or any emotion for that matter. No one had truly cared about Lucius except as the next installment in the family line. Not his remote father and not his socialite mother, and certainly not Narcissa. He’d been the heir and nothing else. His father’s money and power had set him apart from most of the other boys at Hogwarts, so he had stood alone there too, holding himself aloof except for Quidditch, which he adored. He was usually surrounded only by pureblood sycophants – the exception was Snape, who had been drawn to the older boy’s intelligence, but who seemed to view him more as an intriguing specimen than a friend. Lucius felt that Snape had tolerated him more than liked him during their overlapping school years, but at least the younger Snape hadn’t given a damn about Lucius’ money. It still amazed him that Snape had kept on and become a real friend – as much as Lucius could allow and still protect his closed emotions.


Lucius wondered if he could do better as a father this time, being older and wiser, if Hermione was willing to give him a chance. Maybe she knew how it worked. She seemed to have inspired warm feelings in others. He could watch her and learn.


Hermione was starting to fidget at Lucius’ continued silent assessment of her. Had she offended him? Did he not want children with her? She hadn’t thought she’d got his signals wrong, but with Lucius, one never knew for sure just where his convoluted thought processes would take him.


Lucius made up his mind to trust Hermione on this one important issue. After all, she was the only one who could legitimately give him more heirs, male or female. “I agree that more children would be desirable for the mansion. And you shouldn’t have to give up your hope of children just because you were forced to marry me. If you are amenable, we needn’t use any contraceptive spells tonight - or any night.”


“I’d like that, Lucius.” Hermione hid a smile. Lucius couldn’t admit he wanted children, too. That was fine with her. She fiddled some more with her food, but wasn’t hungry any more. She decided to get on with the evening which was simultaneously scaring her half to death and exciting her to fever pitch. “If you are finished eating, shall we meet again in your bedroom in half an hour?” Hermione wanted to brush her teeth and put on something a little more alluring than her dinner dress which she suspected now had a telltale wet patch on the butt. Luckily it was black, so she figured it wouldn’t show the spot. The ivory damask chair seat, however, was a whole other problem. She laid her napkin on the table next to her woven gold placemat and made to rise.


Lucius, immersed in his own lascivious thoughts for the evening, was starting to erect another tent, so he quickly agreed. He rose and moved behind Hermione’s chair to pull it out for her, then turned quickly and left the dining room before his wife noticed his condition and her hypnotizing honey-scent undid him completely.


Hermione looked down at her chair seat. Yup, it had a small wet spot. Damn, but that man was good. He hadn’t even touched her yet and her knickers were drenched; his popularity with the ladies probably wasn’t overstated. Hermione sighed at the thought of all his past lovers, but decided to be pragmatic. A virile Lucius beat a vibrator any day. She whisked to her room where she had to explain to an irate Crookshanks why he was sleeping alone tonight.
______________________________________________________________________

Lemon coming up, obviously. Let me know what your reactions are for this chapter and the evolving relationship between Lucius and Hermione. Your comments quite often affect the flow of the story. 8-)