Prisoners of Love - A Mystery - COMPLETE

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Updated 10-31-07 Happy Halloween!!

I am so enjoying your reviews. They keep me hard at work writing. The Malfoy mansion has filled up nicely with readers. Tell an elf if you need clean towels. Now let me see, there were some comments and questions:

Sheherazade The cellar is yours. Perhaps Lucius will send Snape down there to get some wine and he’ll get lost. And found. And I’d adore to tour stately homes, but we don’t have many in California. 8-(

pittwitch Hermione is always concerned for the elves. I’m afraid Lucius is a lost cause, however.

JW Your green and silver room is ready and waiting for you. 8-)

Scary Bear Hair Hermione is teaching Lucius tolerance, and I think he’s showing her the world isn’t always rose-colored. That’s not necessarily a bad thing for this innocent Hermione. Lucius will still protect her.

Utopia BEST WISHES!! I’m very happy for you. And congratulations to your new fiancé. What wonderful news!

Citten We do get to the nursery a bit later.

Okay, folks. Warning of mild kinky sex coming up. If you want to skip that part, look for the first double row of pluses and the second double row of pluses. Don't read between them.


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Chapter Thirty-Three

Names



Hermione soon learned how to get around her new home through the private Malfoy floo system, if the gigantic edifice could really be called anything so mundane as a ‘home’ with over a hundred rooms. What on earth did Lucius need with that much room, she often wondered in the early days, although it had quickly become apparent why his family had designed the private floo network for themselves. She didn’t think she would want the Ministry to have an accounting of every time someone flooed into their bedroom either, Death Eater activities aside. All in all, she was rather disenchanted with the magic world bureaucracy and the illegality of their secret floo network bothered her very little.

A quick review of the situation of the Malfoy estate elves didn’t make her feel much better about her new environment, but she put their problems aside for later discussion with the master of the house. Except for the odd bursts of extreme lust, which Lucius reveled in as the willing recipient, she was mostly tired and more than ready to have her baby.

It was only later, when she became more familiar with her new stratum of society, that she realized the size of the mansion was showmanship combined with prestige, all wrapped in the ‘mystique’ of the Purebloods - rather similar to gorillas beating on their chests to impress other gorillas of their supremacy, she snickered to herself. However, Hermione wasn’t so lost to reality that she voiced her view to her husband. If they had still been in Azkaban, she could have said what she thought, but these days she was more leery of his uncertain temper. Her own temper was never far from the surface of their marriage either.

Added to their own hidden angers, was the danger they had stalking them and a recurring problem of odd attempts to gain access to the estate, mostly in the wee hours. Lucius’ protective wards easily held against the unknown invaders, but he took the attempts as a sign his renewed efforts to track down the miscreants who framed his wife were gaining ground. He didn’t tell Hermione about the nighttime attempts feeling she was not in any shape to take on any additional worries so close to her confinement.

Because Lucius was nearly always out or busy keeping up with his financial empire during the day, Ginny often visited for lunch if Hermione was feeling up to it, bringing news of their friends and relatives, keeping Hermione abreast of her own milieu with the small everyday details of interest to both of them. That was how Hermione learned that a new female professor of Potions had been teaching at Hogwarts since the start of term the previous September and there were rumors that Headmaster Snape was caught at last.

“I haven’t seen her, but Mum has and she says she’s very nice and quite pretty. She’s not very tall and she’s slender with black hair just like Snape, but with blue eyes. I’ve heard she’s French and has an accent that makes all the boy students study Potions really hard to gain her approval.” Ginny laughed, “Quite the change from old sourpuss Snape in fact.”

Hermione privately thought Severus had himself intrigued quite a few female students in his day, but declined to mention it, not wanting to draw needless speculation down onto herself. Now that he was Headmaster, Hermione wondered how many ‘disobedient’ female students wound up in the Headmaster’s office promising to behave while enjoying their few seconds of his choleric attention. Probably not too many if the rumors of his new manacle system were true.

“So are they going to share a cauldron for two? Or is she just warming his bed?” Hermione asked. Snape had been to the estate for dinner several times and she knew he and Lucius pored over parchments in the library a lot. The Headmaster had never brought anyone with him, though. Perhaps she should ask Lucius about it. Maybe they should expand the open invitation so Snape could bring someone with him. Hermione didn’t offer the information that Severus was a regular visitor to Ginny. The newest Mrs. Malfoy was already learning that Malfoy business didn’t need to be broadcast outside the estate walls.

“I don’t know how serious it is and neither does Mum. I would like to meet her, though. Just to see what sort of woman would intrigue Snape. IF the rumors are true.”

Ginny never stayed long so as not to tire Hermione who was getting more and more round and lethargic. Hermione pondered the news of Snape with a partner and was glad for him. He had always seemed so alone. Hermione mentally meandered from Snape to her recurring worry that she wouldn’t be able to ever have Harry or Ron visit her in her new home. They had both demurred at coming onto the estate, but were willing to have her come to their homes for get togethers. Lucius they tolerated when he deigned to come. Ron and Lavender’s new baby sons were a focus of attention and were adorable with obvious red hair already. Even Lucius enjoyed the babies, although Ron had initially bristled at the former Death Eater holding one of his children.

Hermione lapsed into familiar daydreams of what her baby might look like, always coming reluctantly back to the immovable fact that Malfoy genes ran over and ruthlessly obliterated any other contenders. Hermione and Ginny had sniggered at the thought that it was rather like the Trojan Horse and Troy – the sneaky Malfoy genes were happily invited inside then they pillaged from within. She reluctantly accepted that her child was likely to have pale blond hair and gray eyes like its father.

As often happened the closer she came to her due date, Hermione’s energy level suddenly dipped and she barely made it from her sitting room where she and Ginny had been talking, to her glorious red bedroom. Her eyes drooped as she snuggled into bed for an after lunch rest leaving Ginny to apparate home.

It was where Lucius found her two hours later, arriving home early from a meeting. He’d been assured by the healer that all of Hermione’s behaviors were normal and she was close to term. His investigations were going slowly and his other business dealings kept intruding into his wishes to be with his wife, but he knew he wasn’t much of a calming influence on her anyway, being too restive himself. He was wired with all the normal anxiety of a husband for his wife and hyper about uncovering a faint scent of wrongdoing in the Ministry. Things were rather unsettled all around.

Hermione woke from her lie down feeling much more energetic and surprisingly frisky. When she saw Lucius just coming out of the bathroom where he’d showered and changed, she almost licked her lips over those trousers he was just zipping up, and an idea formed. However, she had one other item on her agenda first and so she launched into her latest interest without pomp, “Lucius, if it’s a boy I want to name the baby after my father.” She sat back in bed and waited for the entertainment.

Lucius’ frosty eyes could have frozen fireworks if they hadn’t been shooting them already. “George? GEORGE?” He pinned Hermione with his most fearsome glower, “I like your father, but NO!”

She reveled in his antagonism. Ah, this was more like their arguments in Azkaban, “That’s not his first name. He uses his second name, George because he likes it better. His first name is Henry.”

Lucius groaned. Gods, the man had TWO disgusting names?! “Henry? NO. Horrid, quite horrid.”

“What’s wrong with Henry – or George for that matter? They were both names of good English kings.”

“MUGGLE kings. Muggle names are apparently de rigeur for those impecunious Weasleys, but they won’t do for a Malfoy.” Lucius taunted her right back, enjoying the sparring as much as she obviously did. “I’ve already decided on the name for our child if it’s a son. We’ll call him Lucien.”

“Lucien? Why? So you can perpetuate your ego? That’s a girlie name,” she derided. Hermione was happily yanking his chain, but she could see her son getting bloodied nose after bloodied nose at Hogwarts.

“I beg to differ! Lucien is a very masculine name. I want him to have all the power of the Malfoy name plus a constant reminder that his father is completely behind him, hence the similarity of names. I want all of my pureblood clique to remember just who stands behind our child. He’s going to have enough trouble navigating our stratum of society as a halfblood as it is. Being named Henry will guarantee he permanently sports black eyes.”

Hermione had to admit that Lucius’ stratagem had merit. She had long since recognized her child would have a difficult time straddling the two wildly diverse segments of magic society, even though the separation was less now that the Dark Lord was no longer fomenting divisiveness in their community. Her major concern was to protect her child as much as possible.

She rather resented Lucius’ assumption that he alone had naming rights to their child, while reluctantly applauding his foresight. He knew his own turf and she decided to accept the name, but without completely giving in. “Then Henry can be his middle name.” She wanted her family background represented some way, otherwise the Malfoy name and upper crust life would nullify her side totally.

“But Henry is such an ugly name,” Lucius complained, sauntering over to come closer to Hermione who was still on the bed. At Hermione’s furious scowl, Lucius felt a bit of judicious compromise might be in order. He’d gotten his way and could afford to be generous, “Perhaps you would be willing to use the French version, Henri? It goes better with Lucien and our family heritage is originally French anyway.” He sat down on the bed and began threading his fingers through Hermione’s curly mop, which was about the only thing he could still do physically to his wife.

Hermione thought it over for few minutes, luxuriating in the scalp massage. Henry or Henri. Did it really make that much difference? She actually liked the French form of the name so she used her capitulation to get another concession for herself. “If I agree to Lucien Henri, I want control of the household accounts.”

Lucius grumbled for a few minutes, but the bargain was struck because he had planned on her doing them anyway. He had already decided that after the baby was born, she might as well use her accounting skills for the good of the Malfoy estate.

“And if it’s a girl?” asked Lucius.

“I’ve been toying with Leonie.”

“I like the L,” Lucius pronounced. “It’s also French so it would fit in well with our family name. Is that why you thought of it?”

“Sorry, no. I just like the name,” Hermione demurred. “Well?”

“Acceptable. Do you have a middle name picked out?” Lucius relaxed back near his wife, propped up with several of the decorative pillows. When he saw her shake her head no, he said, “Then we will have Leonie Jane after you.” He said in relief, “I was afraid you would come up with disgusting names like Cinderella or Thumbelina if it’s a girl. I draw the line there.” The massage stopped so that Lucius could cross his arms on his chest and look more forbidding. He didn’t think it was too effective though. His wife’s liitle hand was sneaking into his crotch on a subversive mission even as he gave her the evil eye.

“Where did you get those names?” Hermione was incredulous at the outré names, but it was nice that Lucius despised undershorts. So convenient.

“I saw them on some children’s books in the library at Hogwarts. The librarian said they were Muggle books and I tried to get them removed. I didn’t want Muggle stories available for impressionable minds.” He chuckled, “I certainly got an earful from her about information being freely given to all and not being stifled, but she changed her tune when I suggested she have some Dark Arts treatises made available for the upper age levels.” Lucius clinically watched as Hermione’s hand disappeared into his lowered zipper. “I did it purely for devilment and to pay her back for the Muggle books she had been lecturing me on, but it seems the Dark Arts books were proscribed by the Ministry of Magic, not her. I suspect she would have had the dark arts right alongside the other books if she could have.”

Hermione smiled wickedly, sidetracked for the moment from her tactile investigation inside Lucius’ trousers, “She did have some. They were locked up and only allowed to a few students. I got to use them. They were fascinating if rather gruesome. Some of the spells were disturbing. And why anyone would want to…uh,” Hermione stopped just shy of a verbal abyss opening at her feet, “never mind.”

Lucius smiled, too – cynically. “Why would anyone would want to put open sores on someone else? Is that what is so disturbing? I think that was what you were about to say, yes? I adjusted the spell so it was just an illusion instead of the real thing. Although I could have made them according to the correct spell.” He grinned more naturally then, “I wasn’t capable of hurting you even at that stage, tidbit. Are you finished with my cock now? Can I re-zip my trousers?”

Hermione avoided the entire faux pas, saying instead, “Lucien Henri is acceptable and so is Leonie Jane. I wouldn’t have named any daughter we have either of those eccentric names. So that’s settled. And no, I’m not finished.” Lucius couldn’t do anything to her any more, but she certainly found plenty to do to him.

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Hermione’s wand flew at light speed with her agenda and not one full minute later Lucius was stark naked and spreadeagled face down on his own bed, hands and feet solidly if lovingly tied to the four bedposts, and his bum elevated with one of the large scarlet and gold pillows.

The trapped wizard always enjoyed their erotic games, but he worried that she wasn’t up to the exercise any more. He also was a bit apprehensive about this new territory they were suddenly exploring. Between them, he’d always been the one in charge when it veered from the traditional. She’d never shown any interest in controlling their more unconventional lovemaking before, although heaven knew he was no novice at being a submissive. He mostly liked to be in charge, but there were occasions when all he wanted to do was let go and allow someone else do the work while he just enjoyed. Having Hermione finally show some kinky leadership in the bedroom was a wonderful gift for him. She was becoming more than he’d ever dared to hope he could have from her.

“I applaud your inventiveness, my dear, but haven’t you trapped your favorite plaything under me?” With a bit of struggle, Lucius dug his elbows into the mattress and briefly lifted up to present his already swollen artillery to view to punctuate his meaning, then sank down again, his voice a bit muffled in the covers.

“Do that again,” Hermione commanded.

Lucius began to get a bad feeling about his predicament. If she wasn’t after his cock, then… “Hermione, I don’t want you to overexert yourself. What is it you have planned? Maybe we can find a better method than you getting overtired.”

“Up! Again!” A stinging swat hit his backside as a small hand smacked his tight, ivory-toned butt making a pink hand design on the pale skin.

“Hermione,” Lucius growled, an attempt at intimidation that went nowhere as another swat landed on the first.

“Up!”

Lucius heaved a dramatic sigh and laboriously got his elbows aligned enough to raise himself again. “There. Satisfied?” Hermione immediately stuffed another pillow under his equipment bringing his rear up even further, pressing his face into the bedcovers. “Mmnpph,” her put-upon spouse complained, as he turned his face to the side to avoid being smothered.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” Hermione brought out her new find from under the foot of the bed where she had stashed it. She had accidentally unearthed her prize from under a collection of old shirts at the bottom of one of the drawers Lucius had assigned to her. She was sure it had been forgotten by her enterprisingly deviant husband some time ago. Well, today he was going to remember it again. A charmingly evil smile lit her piquant features as she admired the now reddish handprints on her mate’s sexy butt.

She didn’t like finding physical evidence that Lucius had been active in bed sports with anyone else. It was totally unfair of her to feel that way, but there it was. He was going to discover his wife had a few aberrant ideas of her own on their future boudoir activities, just in case he thought he needed to take any of his more licentious interests elsewhere. Lucius may not have completely understood that he was now a one-woman man and she meant to drive that fact home - literally. She fingered her new implement, speculatively eyeing her husband as he tried to get comfortable in his upended position. It was an education for her to begin to feel what her dominating husband must feel when he took command of their sex play.

Hermione reached down again under the bed for the tube of ointment Lucius always used on her and then slowly eased herself up onto the bed between Lucius’ outflung legs, being careful of her girth, a little awkward in her movements due to her ungainly shape, but prey to her rioting hormones which were egging her on toward that delightful, tight target centering his tush exposed by her wizard’s helpless position.

“Hermione?” Lucius could feel her sinking the mattress between his legs and he started sweating, half with apprehension and half with hope. What was she up to? He wished he could see better, but his own shoulders blocked his view.

“Did you like being swatted, Lucius?” his delicate wife asked.

Oh, Gods. What did he say to that? “Uh, maybe,” he allowed.

“Then you don’t want me to do it again,” Hermione said as though it were an established fact.

“I didn’t say that,” Lucius hastened to say, not wanting to lose a possible bit of exciting foreplay if she was bent on spanking him, but loath to openly divulge one of his prurient interests in case he frightened her off. His tool hardened to a painful rigidity and she hadn’t even touched him again. He hid an expectant grin in the bedclothes. “I guess I wouldn’t mind trying it to see,” he tried to say piously, but his voice gave away his laughter.

“You think this is funny?” Hermione intoned in a sepulchral voice of her own, knowing Lucius couldn’t see her devilish grin.

“No, no, tidbit, truly, how can I possibly think being tied up with my butt in the air is funny?” Lucius laughed outright then and was rewarded with a firm spank on his left butt cheek. A second one followed on the right side as her husband wriggled his derriere, tightening his muscles as he tried to evade her smacks. His laughter froze in his throat when he felt the cold shock of ointment on his unprotected rosette.

“Sweet hell, Hermione, I hope you know what you’re doing. Oh Gods, tidbit, how did you know -?” Lucius shivered with a tidal wave of pure lust as the blunted tip eased into his backside. He instantly relaxed his sphincter muscles to allow the penetration, his hands clenching into fists with the delicious sensation of pressure on his arse. It had been such a long time since he’d felt the intimate stretching of his inner space with…with… “Hermione, what are you using on me?” He gasped as the size of her mysterious insert found its way further and further inside.

Hermione watched, engrossed, as the long, carved ivory penis disappeared inch by inch into her very receptive mate. The handle with the indented spaces for her fingers was firmly held in her hand. “Tell me what you like, Lucius. Do you like this?” and she began pulling it out again from a slightly different angle.

“Merlin’s balls, yes! A bit more ointment, then keep that angle and put it back in. Ooooh, Gods. Heaven! Deeper…deeper…shite, that is sooooo good,” Lucius crooned as Hermione followed his instructions.

Lucius wriggled as Hermione wielded, until she found the rhythm and depth and angle he liked best. She knew she’d found his sweet spot when his instructions dribbled away to become incoherent moans and appreciative shudders which turned into higher-pitched gasps far sooner than she would have liked. His dilatory wiggles transformed, becoming shameless writhing from a wizard bent on getting his posterior reamed in exact conjunction with him ramming his turgid tool into the surface of the pillow under him.

Hermione was holding onto the ivory instrument with both hands now, bringing a relentless cadence to her divining rod and feeling a jubilant sense of feminine power over this domineering, arrogant, gorgeous sorceror she adored and was so often maddened by. At this precious, wonderful moment, he was merely a man who was succumbing to his body’s intense pleasure provided by her, his heavily pregnant, horny as hell wife. This is such a rush, she exulted, making him wild as she measured out her new toy in him in slippery slides. She loved giving him such staggering pleasure, hearing his breathless moans.

Her willing victim’s panting got labored and faster and suddenly he bowed into the mattress, going absolutely rigid with the most satisfying bellow, his body collapsing into tumultuous twitches and tremors as he weakly whispered, “Tidbit, ahhh, tidbit.” Slowly his body relaxed down into the bedcovers with only a few ripples of tired muscles left from his journey to paradise.

Hermione undid his bindings with her wand and smiled as Lucius merely stayed where he was, stretched out like a starfish on their bed. She put away her new toy and the ointment and crawled up to settle beside her limp husband, only using her wand briefly to dry out the jets of semen from the pillows she pulled out from under him.

A few minutes later, Lucius roused enough to ask, “What were you using on me?” as he languidly turned to look at his personal little treasure trove of deviant delights.

Hermione frowned, “I found an ivory penis in one of the drawers in the closet. I imagine you enjoyed using it before I came along…” she left the sentence open-ended, her expression clouding.

Strangely, Lucius’ face bloomed red. “I don’t suppose you’d believe it was purely an ornament?” When he saw Hermione’s cynical, slitted eyes, he sighed, “No, I expect not. Well,” he closed his eyes, then opened them again as if he hoped the question had disappeared while he wasn’t looking. “Okay. Damn! I use it on myself. Are you happy?” Lucius turned his head to face away from his wife, extremely embarrassed.

He felt a little blooming body snuggle up against him and turned back to face her again, completely confused. Hermione was looking at him with shining eyes and a simple, sweet smile. “You’ll never have to use it on yourself again, Lucius. I loved doing that. And I won’t have to tie you up either.”

“Unless I want you to,” Lucius added with a relieved grin, sliding her closer. Holy Hecate, he thought, what have I unleashed?

Hermione, ever curious, wanted to know, “Uh, Lucius? How do you…,” she waved her hand at his torso vaguely, “uh, you know, do it with the…” Now it was her turn to blush.

“Do you really have to know? Just think wand and that’s all I’m going to say.” Lucius balked at describing his personal pleasures. It sounded like he wouldn’t have to employ his old method any more anyway. Hermione’s fulfilled mate lay there still completely enervated, breathing a little less harshly, but seeking to find a position that didn’t increase the sweet pain of his bum as he cheerfully contemplated a divinely kinky future with his pseudosadistic spouse, and relieved that she was giving up on her extremely embarrassing quest for knowledge. Neither of them could keep their eyes open and they found themselves drifting off for an afternoon’s rest.

A couple of hours later, Hermione got up to have a quick shower as Lucius lazed a bit longer, then got up to join her. It had taken her nearly an hour to finish her initial foray into being the dominant partner and with the unscheduled nap they were almost late to dinner with Snape. Lucius’ cock was limp and his poor arsehole needed some more numbing ointment, but he was supremely content with their naming agreement and the adventures of the afternoon. Who knew Hermione had read up on the prostate as a sex organ?

Two evenings later Hermione went into labor.

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A month before, Lucius had asked the healer to design an up-to-date delivery room in his mansion for the birth. He didn’t want Hermione exposed to any possible danger in a hospital where strangers came and went with little supervision twenty-four hours a day.

When Hermione’s labor began, Lucius immediately flooed the healer and moved Hermione into the delivery room. He’d introduced the room to her soon after she arrived at the estate so it wasn’t a surprise and in any case she also had no interest in endangering herself or her child in an open hospital. The shadowy villains who had pulled the strings that got her sent to Azkaban were still at large.

The healer came with a private nurse and settled Hermione comfortably in the adjustable bed, checked her over and said it would be several hours. The nurse would keep track of Mrs. Malfoy’s progress and would floo her immediately when there was any change. Lucius was not happy, but the healer insisted that she was needed more with patients closer to their birthing and left. Hermione chuckled at his disgruntled reaction. So there was someone who didn’t roll over and play doormat at his command. Excellent!

Hermione’s contractions were dilatory at first and it was several hours before the pace picked up. Lucius sat beside Hermione’s bed when he wasn’t restlessly pacing. The waiting was getting to him and making him much more volatile than his wife who spent the time between contractions reading one of the books she’d selected from the estate library, “Beginning Potions for Children”. She‘d discovered the book on an upper shelf among some tomes on Arithmancy, which had initially drawn her eye. Hermione had been curious and opened it, seeing on the flyleaf a childish scrawl claiming the book belonged to one Lucius Malfoy in big block letters. She had been instantly captivated and had removed it to her bedroom and now to the delivery room. Sheesh, she thought, it sounds like I’m sorting mail – delivery room. Hmph.

As a Muggleborn, Hermione had never had the chance to explore her magical heritage before she was accepted to Hogwarts and this well-worn little book was a window into the lives of very young witches and wizards, their abilities and what was expected of them. The whole idea fascinated her, especially as she was soon going to be a mother with no experience of the needs of tiny magic babies at all. She had read about magic childrens’ growth and development, Hermione being Hermione, but this special book had been Lucius’ as a child and it also told her something more about him and his childhood. It was much more personal and enlightening. The big block letters announcing the ownership of the book were done in a heavy bold hand. Apparently her husband had been quite a strong personality even as a small child.

Lucius saw the book and merely grimaced at her choice of reading matter.

After three hours of slow, short contractions, things went faster and the nurse called the healer back to the estate.

Hermione was beginning to pant with the strength of her contractions while losing her focus on what she was supposed to do. She was living from contraction to contraction, not caring about anything or anyone else.

The healer put up her bed to an angle for Hermione to have more leverage when she needed to push and for gravity to help, but when the time came, Hermione was so petite she kept sliding down the bed, unable to keep an upright position as the involuntary muscle spasms controlled her slight body.

When the healer saw that Hermione couldn’t keep upright, she told Lucius to slip off his shoes and ease in behind her. The healer wanted Lucius to hold Hermione between his legs and keep her from sliding down the bed.

Lucius was unnerved at being asked to get on the delivery bed and manually help his wife. He hung back and was about to suggest the nurse do it instead when Hermione looked up at him, perspiration dripping down her piquant face and added her opinion. “Get up here, you rat! (pant) Sweet Goddess, if you waste one more minute I (pant) guarantee this is the last Malfoy child you sire. We’re talking garden shears. NOW, Lucius, dammit!”

He glared at the healer and the nurse, hearing their quiet snickers, but both of them knew if any word of snipped balls got out, their livelihoods were at stake. Then he saw Hermione trying to move forward on the angled bed to leave room for him and he was a bit ashamed of his reluctance and embarrassment. This was not the time for misplaced discomposure and self-consciousness.

He toed off his shoes, rolled up the long sleeves on his white dress shirt and slid in behind his wife, pulling her slight form up against him between his legs. He settled her as comfortably as he could, then held on as the next contraction hit. He was amazed at the solid strength of the muscles flexing on her belly, but he held on grimly while Hermione rode out the painful birth ballet, one contraction at a time, asking over and over if she could push.

All too soon, the contractions became so close together they almost seemed to blur, then there was a slight lull. The healer said, “Now, Mrs. Malfoy. NOW you may push.”

Lucius held his wife as she valiantly began the process of pushing their baby out into the world and then five long pushes later, which seemed like five hundred to Lucius, suddenly it was all over. The healer held up the newborn for the parents to see for the first time. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, you have a new son.”

Lucius could see it was a boy and he scanned the babe for the requisite number of fingers and toes, relaxing as everything looked to be normal. The healer put their son in Hermione’s arms, saying, “I need you to stay still for a little while longer, so please just enjoy your new child for a few moments while I finish up.”

Hermione was sighing with fatigue and happiness, while Lucius was just awestruck. He hadn’t been allowed this much involvement with Draco and was reeling from the intensity of what he’d just gone through with his tidbit. Lucius tucked his wife and son into his arms there on the bed and just melted into the threesome, feeling truly included in his new family. A soft wave of serenity enfolded him in the most exquisite natural anodyne of his entire existence.

His anger and misery faded away for those moments, leaving him somehow clean again. He knew he needed to address his anger at his wife and hers at him, and now it seemed as though maybe he could without fearing that the confrontation would sever him from her forever. He made a solemn promise to himself to brave the emotional maelstrom of their superficial marriage and attempt to capture this feeling permanently.

tbc...

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To keep down the number of inquiries, NO, we don't see Severus' romantic interest. Sorry.


I admit this was an odd chapter, combining bawdiness and birthing. Sometimes, there's no accounting for female hormones. Hermione made me do it. Honest.


There should be plenty to give feedback on for this chapter. Anonymous reviews are accepted so go ahead and hit the link below. Thank you in advance. (LaBib curtsies, but it looks rather weird in pajamas...)

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