The Wedding - COMPLETE

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Updated 5-27-07

I am so lucky to have such wonderful, supportive reviewers. I'm happy you're enjoying the story. We've got a ways to go yet. Now, to answer a few queries:
nonentity re 'pansy brown' eyes - you're correct about my reference to the interior of the flower being dark brown. I had a necklace as a child with a pansy. The outer part was yellow but the inner part was a nice deep brown. I like the color. I hope the elaboration helps.

ffpoisongirl hearing about my writing never gets old, believe me... And I'll mention the preparations for the baby later, although I must admit, not with much more than a sidebar. It's been going on, just not seen by the reader. This story is winding up to be nearly book length already and something had to go. Of course, I could drop the sex to make room...Ow,ow,ow. Hey! Quit pulling my hair will ya? I was just kidding.

Shiloh as usual, you've been reading over my shoulder. He's not happy to wake up with her gone. Read on.

BuffyXO Valid Point. I'll add how far along Hermione is in her pregnancy a bit better in the story. Happy birthday in advance!

Some of you thought Lucius got off with a reward instead of a rebuke for his overprotective remonstration about the biscuits. Do you think Lucius would have been suitably chastised and vowed never to be what he can't help being ever again if Hermione had torn a strip off him with a vicious tongue-lashing? My thought was the old 'catch more flies (and pigheaded husbands) with honey than with vinegar' ploy. Hermione is no dope. She's herding him along with a loving hand instead of a slap which he's much more used to and has learned to ignore.

So 999 your story has gone missing AGAIN. Why?


********** NOW *****************

Just for fun -- An Experiment

I get frustrated when authors mention songs in their stories that I don't know. It's harder to relate when the melody is a mystery to me. Therefore, I'm trying to solve that problem below.


We all know that Lucius likes music in this story. It gets to him more easily than most anything else because it's a private thing he can enjoy without exposing himself emotionally.


In preparation for this chapter, I'm adding a soundtrack of sorts.


Those not familiar with the Christina Aguilera-Ricky Martin duet “Nobody Wants to be Lonely” might want to listen to the song first. If you can connect to YouTube, you can see and hear the MTV song in its entirety.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BcoDBmF4boQ

You can listen to the song while you read the story...A/N: I actually added this YouTube info one chapter (five days) later, when I realized YouTube could be used to hear the song.

Or go to the Amazon sample at this web site below. (The lyrics which were hauntingly special to Lucius are at the end of the chapter.)


http://www.amazon.com/Nobody-Wants-Be-Lonely-Pt/dp/B000059WKJ/ref=pd_bbs_sr_3
/105-7593406-2922058?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1180070616&sr=1-3


Make sure the Amazon URL is all on one line in your locator box (where you type your http’s)


You should arrive at the page for buying: “Nobody Wants to Be Lonely, Pt. 1 [ENHANCED] [CD-SINGLE] [IMPORT]”


Scroll down to the section, “Listen to Samples”


Now choose:
1. Nobody Wants To Be Lonely (Duet Radio Edit)


You’ll have to pick whichever downloaded music player you have installed on your computer. I had to download RealOne Player to hear it.


It gives a nice extra dimension to know that Lucius was gently gyrating in his desk chair as he listened to this tune over and over and now I hope you can hear it too.

Hermione's turn...
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Chapter Thirty-Six

Knothole

Hermione felt energized from her husband’s shattering response to their lusty, impassioned bed game and decided to do some shopping for Christmas, which was closing fast. She dressed casually and left for Diagon Alley and the many shops looking for holiday decorations. One of the shops had garlands woven with green and red plaid ribbon which Hermione thought would look nice lining the hallways near their rooms and the main drawing room where she planned to have a lovely, large Christmas tree. Hermione bought a large variety of festoons and ornaments, spending a huge amount of Galleons but thought her money well spent. Arriving home in early evening, she whisked to her bedroom to find Lucius dressing for dinner.


“Precious, the elves said you went shopping at Diagon Alley.” Lucius was standing at the entrance to the closet donning a formal, charcoal, heavy silk mandarin-collared robe as Hermione came into the room. “What was so important that you needed to shear off so quickly?” He was a little hurt that she hadn’t been there when he’d awakened from his rejuvenating rest. He’d slept over two hours, but he was still miffed. “Thank you for covering me with the blanket, but I missed you when I woke up.”


Hermione walked up to Lucius and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck the best she could with her tummy blocking her access. “I loved this afternoon. You may have created a monster.” Her heart soared when Lucius’ eyes immediately went foggy gray and his face lit up boyishly.


Lucius chuckled lightly as he drew his wife closer, leaning over her protruding belly to kiss her forehead, “I’m pleased you enjoyed yourself. I imagine you saw how much I enjoyed myself.” Lucius turned a bit pink with a combination of remembered pleasure and embarrassment, so he sought to direct his wife’s attention away from his awkward display of feelings. “The elves have planned dinner for the usual time, so you’ll need to hurry and change. You don’t want to inconvenience the elves, do you?” Lucius continued to smart under the new organization of his elves, and his comment slid past tongue-in-cheek straight into sarcasm, but Hermione was in a good mood and didn’t let his diversionary dig annoy her.


Suddenly she straightened up, “Ouch, this baby is turning me black and blue inside.” They both looked down and watched as Hermione’s belly undulated energetically, rippling the cotton of her pink knit dress as their little one stretched and turned, perhaps making itself more comfortable in its limited space.


Lucius loved to feel the movements of his child in his wife’s womb. He smoothed his hand over her stomach, allowing his babe to punch his palm through Hermione’s skin. It was a connection he craved with the child he already loved. His fierce love for this baby scared him as his marauding forays under the Dark Mark never had – he constantly worried that his son or daughter would be disappointed in him, just as his parents had been, and his own early family had been. His first attempts to distance himself from this new little life had failed miserably – he was firmly caught in his unborn’s blinding lovelight. He tried to tell himself he could accept a distant role as father if this babe ultimately rejected him, but he didn’t think he had enough strength left to protect himself again if he was shut out from this family.


He looked into Hermione’s fond eyes and wanted to trust her, to hope for an acceptance that had evaded him all his life - not an interest in his various attributes, but a simple acceptance of him. The Death Eaters had given him a spurious feeling of acceptance belonging to and ultimately helping to lead their cohort, filling and easing some of the gaping, bitter desolation in his lonely soul. And he’d found a way to strike back at the world for all the rejection he’d always felt from it. The targets of the Death Eaters became his targets– Muggles and Muggleborns, naturally magnified by his father’s indoctrination. His agile intelligence brought him acclaim from the Dark Lord whose similar acuity had initially created a bond of sorts.


Now his own wife was a Muggleborn and this child would be a Halfblood. His Muggle-hating world had crashed around his ears, losing him everything he had – even Narcissa, whom he had wanted with a boy’s violent first love, had rejected him because of his affiliation with the Death Eaters. Perhaps it had been her only clever move, but certainly more clever than he’d been for all his intelligence.


Except for Snape who had only ever been a quasi-Death Eater and had his own wife now, the Death Eaters were all dead, leaving him more alone than ever, with only a petite, iron-willed, clever witch to keep him in a custodial servitude that was feeling alarmingly more like doting enthrallment on his part with each day that passed in her company. Was he so stupid, so needy that he would open himself up again to such gutwrenching hurt? Or…or was his new marriage actually a new day, a new start for him with a clean slate and maybe a family who could love him? He wanted…he wanted…he so wanted…them. His wounded heart hesitantly began the slow-healing journey toward his new family.


Hermione hurried into their closet, changing into a loose formal robe with some lace trim that didn’t bind her enlarging waist, but it didn’t look very feminine to her critical, disheartened eye. She felt like she’d swallowed a Quidditch quaffle and in her own mind she was less attractive every day. Even her newly acquired bit of cleavage didn’t lift her fretful view of herself. Almost four months yet to go. The baby wouldn’t be born until well into the Spring and she was looking like the Great Hall of Hogwarts already.


Lucius always murmured complimentary words during their intimate relations and she knew he meant them. It helped her some, but he was more and more reluctant to hurt her or their baby with any vigorous lovemaking and she was getting grouchy at his gentle, tender ministrations. She was starting to understand very well the impulse to strike out if he didn’t get back to screwing her brains out. As Hermione finished putting on her loose robe, she applied her intellect to a method for needling Lucius into hot sex. He’d probably be sated himself for awhile after their afternoon’s bawdy fun, now it was her turn. The first thing she would need to do after dinner was NOT wear this loose robe.


Hermione was fomenting her dissident plans as she sedately left the closet, apparating with Lucius to their usual, elegantly served dinner in the formal atmosphere of the main dining room. She said the all the correct things and behaved circumspectly, but introduced the topic of going dancing again. Lucius demurred, saying it was too strenuous and would put her amongst who knew what kind of people in that Muggle club. Hermione said no more, just finished her meal calmly and then apparated back to their bedroom, saying she wanted to change her clothes. Lucius decided to accompany her to get some papers he’d left on the bedside table.


Hermione went straight to the closet. Off came the robe and Hermione substituted a tube top in sparkly purple metallic thread that she transfigured long enough to wrap her burgeoning body from the tops of her breasts to mid-thigh. Every curve was lovingly outlined in the shiny material. She selected a pair of satin-covered pumps, which she re-colored purple to match her dress. Hermione came out of the closet to see Lucius sitting in the comfy chair reading some papers as he waited for her.


He looked up absently, then his eyes shot to her dress as the papers fell to the floor. “Hermione, what is THAT? Is it actually a dress? Isn’t it a bit tight?” He rose and strode purposefully over to the oddly compelling little purple-clad slut who’d invaded his bedroom. Lucius wandered all the way around his wife, inspecting every square inch he could see, and rendered his verdict. “It’s too tight. You might hurt the baby.” His eyes were having trouble leaving the vicinity of his wife’s increasingly defined cleavage, but he gamely tried for decorum, only to have her walk past him to her silver box and remove dangling silver earrings and put them on as if she hadn’t heard him. “Hermione, put on another robe, something that won’t bind you so much. And you know very well you shouldn’t be wearing high heels.”


“No, I don’t think so. I’m going dancing and I want to wear something easy to move in.” Hermione looked up at her dumbfounded husband, “I’m in the mood to move,” and she began a seductive wiggling movement of her hips as though to a syncopated rhythm only she could hear. She started humming and shimmied slowly, watching with glee as Lucius’ eyes were trained on her jiggling boobs. She raised her arms over her head and basically writhed to her own humming, circling her hips in the eternal female enticement designed for the male. Her eyes closed as though she were in an ecstatic world all her own, her belly moving gracefully with the rest of her, a beautiful, fecund young woman so full of life she glowed.


Lucius was speechless – for a moment. Then he roared, “Over my dead body. Hermione Jane Granger Malfoy, you will NOT be wearing that purple painted-on advertisement for prostitution anywhere in public. You won’t be wearing it at all! Take it off. If Madam Malkin made that up for you, I’m closing her down.” Lucius stood over Hermione, hands on hips, looking murderous.


“Oh, dear,” Hermione sniffed, trying for crocodile tears, “you shouldn’t yell at me, my love, you might scare the baby. You don’t want to upset us, do you? We’re too fragile to take such rough behavior. Who knows what would happen to our little one’s psyche, hearing his or her father utter such suggestive things?” Hermione continued dancing around the bedroom, rubbing herself on the bedposts as though she were in heat, which wasn’t far from the truth.


“Granger…” Lucius growled, “What is wrong with you? Why are you acting this way? You don’t really want to go dancing, do you?” Lucius’ clever brain kicked in, belatedly processing something besides his fervid male hope that the slut dress would drop below her breasts as she wiggled. “Hmm,” he said finally, “No…I don’t think you do, actually. What is this all about then?” Lucius calmed down and walked over to Hermione pulling her into his arms. He made no other effort to stop her from rubbing up against him rather than the bedpost.


“If I can’t go dancing, then substitute something equally exciting and vigorous for me to do, Lucius. I’m tired of tame. When have I ever been happy with watching the grass grow? I’d far rather see something else grow,” Hermione boldly squeezed Lucius’ crotch and discovered his anger hadn’t stopped his arousal – at all. Her agile fingers opened his trouser zipper and found him easily. Lucius’ lack of interest in underwear was playing right into her hands - literally.


“I want you, Lucius. I want you in me hard, deep, and at this point I’ll take it anywhere you want to put it. But if you try to make love to me like I’m my own grandmother, I will go dancing instead. In this purple sock.” She looked Lucius squarely in those wintry eyes, “You didn’t get all those halfmoon scars on your butt from screwing someone’s Granny. I want to give you another matching set and not even remember I did. Understand?” She slid her other hand through his soft, sexy hair, brushing one side over his shoulder while never ceasing to manipulate the velvet steel of his cock, now deftly released from his placket to grow without hindrance.


Lucius’ protective, sheltering mindset was at war with his libido and his libido was winning ‘handily’ with the sneaky guerilla tactics centered on his groin, currently being efficiently seduced to the opposition by his wanton witch-wife. Hermione hadn’t let go of his increasing erection and she knew exactly where Lucius lived. Her delicate fingers plied every sensitive surface of his tool until Lucius was nearly hypnotized from her sensual onslaught. He just stood still allowing the manipulation of his male treasures, trying to breathe without panting and desperately pretending he was indifferent to his inflamed reaction. He stared down impassively at his wife as she rubbed his now fully erect member and swayed in front of him, her lightly bound, full breasts jouncing with a life of their own.


She saw him frown with intense displeasure as she started singing the lyrics to the tune she’d been humming,

Mmmmmm
Here I stand in the shadows
Come to me, come to me
Can’t you see that -

Nobody wants to be lonely
Nobody wants to cry
My body’s longing to hold you
So bad it hurts inside
Time is precious and it’s slipping away
And I’ve been waiting for you all of my life
Nobody wants to be lonely so why
Why don’t you let me love you?


Her inflammatory words were sung using the tune he’d specially listened to over and over on her iPod, the time he’d snitched it out of her jewelry box. The heartbroken song was all about wanting someone to love. His secret.


Lucius snapped.


He grabbed the sides of her tube dress at the bottom and ripped it off over her head, leaving her naked except for her heels. He frowned at her footwear and banished it back to the closet. Her hands were gathered up and clasped over her head in one of his, holding her on her toes as he whispered in her ear, “I think it’s past time for you to discover the joys of bondage to make up for your unprovoked transgression. I have a lonely bedpost waiting just for you. I’ve been wanting to play ‘knothole’ since you brought it up months ago, precious.”


Before Hermione could do more than groan, Lucius backed her over to the bed. He didn’t want to hurt her, so he used magic to slap pillows down one of the bedposts, affixing them there. Then he levitated Hermione to the post and summoned his abused curtain tiebacks, wrapping her hands together above her head against the wood and transfiguring a small wooden platform from the bedrails for her feet, securing her ankles on either side of the post. She looked like a female figurehead on the prow of a ship with the pillows gently bowing her out.


“Lucius Malfoy! You louse. Stop that this instant. This isn’t what I meant. How can you do this to your pregnant wife? What if you hurt the baby?”


“Tell me the truth, Hermione. Will a little light bondage hurt our child? If so, I’ll stop right now and let you loose.” Lucius continued affixing her to her post. “You were going to dance all night in high heels, were you not? I can’t imagine this is any worse.”


“Lucius Malfoy! You are such a louse.” Hermione pouted, but said nothing more.


“So I will assume that is a no.” Lucius tucked his traitorous tool away again, zipping up his trousers, and then leaned in to Hermione, sliding his fingers through her locks and lifting her grumpy face to look up at him. “Tonight I am Master and you are a lowly slave.” He lowered his lips to hers and spent several minutes rediscovering her mouth with his tongue as his hands left her hair. He didn’t touch any other part of her while he kissed her. He was willing to give her the excitement she needed, but he was not going to batter her insides with an out-of-control cock. He was going to ignore the outraged objections emanating from his genitals and serve up a little revenge. The blond wizard was feeling terribly exposed at the moment and he wasn’t best pleased at Hermione's knowledge of his private feelings. He had loved the lyrics and the slight latin beat, the words saying what he felt inside, but could never say.


Hermione tried so hard not to moan, but when he increased the pressure on her mouth and his tongue began petting hers and circling it, she gave in and the little mewling sounds that she always made for him started escaping.


Lucius took that as a signal to move his lips, nibbling on her ears then stabbing them and batting her earrings with his tongue. Hermione shivered with the erotic sensations, but was starting to figure out what her devious husband was up to. Sure enough, he meandered down her face to her chin still only using his tongue.


“Aren’t you going to touch me, Lucius?”


Lucius leaned away and looked innocently at his wife, “I am touching you. I’m just enjoying all the flavors of your body, one at a time. I don’t need my hands to do that.” Lucius resumed his slow foray, enjoying her neck and shoulders before wandering down to her collarbone and tracing both sides with his tongue.


Lucius accio’d his infamous little wooden stool and reset the height so he could settle comfortably in front of his little transgressor, giving him each necessary level for his wandering tongue. As Lucius sat down he had a clear view of her feet, “Well, well, new toenail color, I see. Is that the ‘Flaming Fuchsia’ polish I saw in our bathroom?” Lucius was curious about every aspect of Hermione’s life and he’d thoroughly examined all the new feminine toiletries imported into his private living space. Narcissa had kept a separate bathroom to which he hadn’t been invited and which he had never thought much about, so he’d never really been exposed to a woman’s intimate accessories before and he was fascinated with them – as he was fascinated with Hermione.


Hermione gaped down at the top of his head, amazed that he could come up with the name of a woman’s nail polish, then she realized he’d read it in their bathroom. Her heart warmed even more to a husband who noticed such details. Not being the least stupid, though, she merely agreed it was a new nail polish and left it at that. This was no time to rile him up more by telling him it was ‘sweet’ of him to notice.


He continued his oral journey by giving each of her newly enlarged, rose-tipped breasts full attention, but he was careful to be gentle, sucking the crests and watching her hips start to rock rhythmically in time to his sucking. Still he used no hands.


Hermione loved the individual sensations that Lucius was so skillfully bestowing, but she was already so worked up from her taunting of him that her eyes started to tear up. Her hormones were betraying her and she didn’t want Lucius to feel badly for something that was just a normal reaction for a pregnant body. “Lucius,” Hermione begged in a wobbly voice, “don’t get upset, please, I’m enjoying myself, so don’t stop.”


“What?” Lucius looked up and saw Hermione was crying. “Oh, Gods, precious, I can’t do this if you’re going to cry. Are you hurt?”


“Lucius Malfoy, you louse. If you stop now, I’ll…I’ll… quilt all those paddles I saw in your bottom drawer. Just you wait – I’m going to use one of those paddles on you when I hang you from those hooks I’m going to install after Christmas.” Hermione sniffed back her tears, and smiled at her husband in encouragement. “I’m just full of hormones. That tongue of yours has a ways to go yet. Get moving before I fall asleep from boredom.”


“If you’re sure…you can explain to me later why you were rummaging in my bureau.” Lucius lifted a disapproving eyebrow at his nosy wife but was reassured by her words and settled back to his task, moving on to her bellybutton. It fascinated him for quite a while as lascivious target practice for his stabbing tongue, but only drew another scathing remark about his slow progression. He grew impatient, “If you don’t have a bit more respect, I’m going to use a silencing spell. Do you want to be able to moan out loud or only in your mind?” Lucius looked up to see if she was going to give him any more lip.


Hermione scowled but quieted.


“Perhaps you haven’t grasped the basics here,” Lucius lectured. I am Master tonight, and you are the slave – the lowly slave, remember? I would have hoped your position tied hand and foot to the bedpost would have given you the hint. I have been extremely lenient with you. You haven’t called me Master even once, but I’ve heard the word ‘louse’ several times. That’s particularly ironic since you definitely make a ‘lousy’ slave. Did you mix up the word ‘lowly’ with ‘lousy’?” Lucius rose and looked Hermione straight in the eyes, “What type of punishment do you think you merit for such disrespect?”


Hermione stayed quiet, not wanting Lucius to lose his place. It had taken him so long to get to her navel she didn’t want him to have to start over. The real punishment would be if he quit without finishing. Lucius’ face slowly eased into an evil smile and Hermione knew he’d thought of a punishment all on his very own without her help. Crap.


Lucius knelt down all the way to her feet and began laving her toes. Hermione liked the subservient look of Lucius on his knees to her, but she groaned at what it meant. He was going to start at her feet and work his way up.


“How did you know I liked the song, “Nobody Wants to be Lonely,” Lucius wondered aloud, between nibbles on her little Flaming Fuchsia toenails. He was completely embarrassed that she knew which song he’d listened to over and over, but now his voice and manner outwardly displayed about as much interest in the topic as Crookshanks had in his dry cat food.


“The iPod records the number of times a song is played and that one had a much higher number than the others. When I added some more songs through the computer at my parents’ house I could see the numbers.” Hermione made an incongruent picture, her cheeks tracking tears while she smiled down at him, “Did you like my rendition?”


“I’m not sure ‘liked’ is the word I would have used. It got you what you wanted, so perhaps the word ‘manipulate’ should be used instead.” He nipped at her ankle, causing a pained intake of breath from his little sprite. He added, “What is a computer? Another Muggle toy? ” Obviously, he fumed, it was some kind of Muggle spy apparatus, recording his most private feelings for others.


Lucius wasn’t at all happy about his very personal interests being pried open with Muggle machines, but, well, Hermione had only used the information to have sex with him. Perhaps it wasn’t all bad. That purple number would certainly have to have a repeat showing sometime. It had slipped off so beautifully.


“Never mind, I’ll explain later.” She frowned at the tiny punishing pain and retorted with foolhardy backchat, “I suppose my performance did get me what I wanted, except not tied to a bedpost and tortured by the slowest tongue in Britain, or threatened with a totally undeserved silence spell, or having my hands tied so I can’t touch you, or -”


“Granger, shut up,” her exasperated husband convincingly snarled, “Slave, remember? This is my last warning or it will be silent slave.” Lucius made a disgusted sound in his throat and mumbled something about impossible submissives, but got back to work on Hermione’s feet, finally clearing her ankles and moving on to her finely shaped calves. With his head bent so Hermione couldn’t see his face, he smiled wolfishly to himself as he slowly licked each calf into submission, from ankle to knee and back, adding tiny admonitory nips whenever Hermione drew breath to speak.


He was enjoying himself immensely, having a free rein to play at seducer with his wife, instead of the previous careful, protective and – Hermione had been right – somewhat boring loving he’d been doling out for the last month. Revenge was sweet and now it was double delicious as payback for her snooping into his music preferences. His possessions were being invaded and now his mind. She owed him.


Lucius was getting closer to his – and her – goal and he was starting to feel faint from the full-blown scent of his wife’s arousal, beckoning him with a siren’s lure. He ran his tongue around her knees tasting the first drops of the honey dripping down her legs from her dewy core. His male staff stood at iron attention slightly impeding his ability to lean into his work carving moist pathways on his little witchy ‘figurehead’. She looked so beautiful tied helplessly to his bedpost. He sighed with deep pleasure and resumed his erotic voyage upward from her kneecaps.


Hermione was deliriously happy with her treatment as slave except for those minor annoyances she had been adjured to ‘shut up’ about. They had had to abandon her favorite missionary position nearly a month ago, as lying on her back pressed the baby uncomfortably on the arteries of her legs, causing them to go numb. Side by side or spoon fashion had so much less to offer. This knothole position was even better than their doggy style arrangements, if excruciatingly slower. She could hardly wait for that snaky tongue to find its way into her saturated slit.


Lucius as dominant partner always soaked her knickers. He was a natural and she could see he loved the role as much as she relished his seizing it. Only her pregnancy had slowed him down, but she hoped tonight would speed him up again; her hormones were making her howl with unrestrained sexual hunger. She needed him to own her.


Lucius followed each and every drip up Hermione’s thighs until it ended or he got too close to the source. He loved hearing her frustrated moans although he was now moaning inwardly himself, torturing his own wicked inclinations as perversely as he was hers. After all the drips had been enjoyed, he virtuously went back to her knees again, slowly sucking upward on the delicate skin of her inner thighs, then circling her slim legs just those few millimeters from his destination, driving Hermione into a frenzy of anxious expectancy.


“Please, Lucius. Please, lick me, suck me, even bite me, but PLEASE bury that tongue where it belongs. Ohhh, I think I’m coming! No, no, it’s too soon! Gods, Lucius, you bastard -” she gasped, “Noooo!” Hermione’s voice rose in a shrieking crescendo, as her small body began to shudder.


Lucius quickly stuck two fingers up inside his wife’s sheath and twisted, bringing her orgasm to a screaming finish. He patiently waited for her to partially come down from her premature cloud of lust, and then raised his stool another segment and sent himself to the promised land, nose first. He impatiently parted her velvet folds with his thumbs and nuzzled his face as far between her petals as he could, aiming his tongue at her secret woman’s snare.


This was what he’d waited for, rivulets of ‘Hermione honey’ flowing down his throat as fast as he could lap them up. She tasted of ambrosia, especially with her pregnancy adding a special piquancy that made him crazy. He clutched her hips to drive his tongue deeper – he needed, was obsessed by her scent, her skin, her moans, her spirit, her everything. She was his lodestone. This woman was his and, oh Gods, he was hers. He was hers. Invaded, indeed!


As Hermione shuddered again in reaction to his salacious laving of her cleft, Lucius kissed her nubbin pearl tenderly then sucked hard and a wrenching second climax sliced through her body, nearly on top of the first.


“Please, Lucius,” she whispered weakly, “Enough, my love.”


Lucius immediately stood and held her as he released the spells keeping her upright, pulling her into his arms. He crooned his pleasure at her responses while gently laying her on their bed and running a brief cleansing spell over her before cocooning her in the covers.


She was already fast asleep when he leaned down to one tiny shell-pink ear and told her in simple words from his soul, “precious, I belong to you now.” Lucius stood up and smiled down at his beautiful, impetuous, headstrong, insolent darling - and felt a fearful hope blossom in his chest, opening a slight crack in that thick mental stronghold restraining all the massed and fused vengeance and fury that had for so long also protected, camouflaged and enshrouded his battered, broken heart. Still, a tiny, embedded sliver of fear held him back from telling her to her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Nobody Wants to be Lonely - Partial Lyrics
Artists: Christina Aguilera and Ricky Martin

There you are
In a darkened room
And you're all alone
Looking out the window
Your heart is cold and lost the will to love
Like a broken arrow

Here I stand in the shadows
Come to me, Come to me
Can't you see that

Nobody wants to be lonely
Nobody wants to cry
My body's longing to hold you
So bad it hurts inside
Time is precious and it's slipping away
And I've been waiting for you all of my life
Nobody wants to be lonely so why
Why don't you let me love you

Can you hear my voice
Do you hear my song
It's a serenade
So your heart can find me
And suddenly you’re flying down the stairs
Into my arms, baby

Before I start going crazy
Run to me, Run to me
Cause I'm dying

Nobody wants to be lonely
Nobody wants to cry
My body's longing to hold you
So bad it hurts inside
Time is precious and it's slipping away
and I've been waiting for you all of my life
Nobody wants to be lonely so why
Why don't you let me love you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Let me know if you found the music. I wanted everyone to hear the song, not just read the lyrics, although they do convey a lot of Lucius' inner struggle.


I guess Hermione was 'punished' for her transgression the same as she had 'punished' Lucius - with sex. Win-win, I'm thinking.

Reviews especially wished for with this experiment. Thanks!