The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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2-26-10 F

Ready for another lemon? Or have all your lips gone into permanent pucker already? I'll take silence as interest.

I've put up several pics at my LJ, so make sure you visit there. One is a little risque and one is a romantic Lucius and Hermione. The URL is at the end of this chapter.

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Chapter Thirty-Eight


Night and Day


Hermione wasn’t sorry to leave that room full of sex toys, which filled her with misgivings while uneasily pricking her curiosity. She didn’t know which toy her husband might choose to pluck off the wall; some were a little scary and some were a complete mystery to her, imbuing them with the power of the unknown. She admitted to herself that one or two of the implements had a shameful attraction, but she wasn’t going to share her interest with her lover. The duality of her reaction to that place made it very uncomfortable.

Lucius steadied her slim body as they returned to their moonlit bedroom and immediately he lifted her, placing her on her hands and knees in the middle of their bed. He scrambled up behind her before she could do more than murmur, “Lucius! What?”

Hermione felt her husband’s big, warm body envelop her slighter one as he settled his thighs against hers from the rear. Lucius hovered over her, his pale hair sweeping up along her spine as he folded into place, his chest above her back. She was surrounded by and sweetly enfolded in her husband’s strength and desire and, with a kind of wonder, the awareness rolled over her that she’d never felt more protected and cherished in her life.

Her traitorous core clenched and dripped, announcing to the world that it was happily creating enough lubrication to grease every lorry axle in England. Hermione groaned mentally, feeling its cool, liquid path sliding down her inner thighs. Why her? Why him?

His captivating chemistry had acted on her physically from the start. What she had initially thought must be a weird revulsion was instead a cataclysmic arousal. It hadn’t taken her long to understand the difference, but she had staunchly resisted any further intimate affiliation beyond enjoying his superbly crafted male body and his marvelous expertise in the bedroom.

That adversarial approach had ultimately been a disaster, earning her a two-week, miserable hiatus without him, worrying about where – and with whom - he was, while teaching her that he meant something much more to her than a hot, stiff cock. She had no idea what she meant to him except as a human shield from accusations of perversion.

Her mind ran round and round in skittery circles until one of Lucius’ hands reached under her to capture a breast, molding and plucking, then trailing the same treatment to her other breast, back and forth, back and forth, shutting down her thoughts to a single track, the one flowing from her deliciously abused breasts to the place being lightly prodded from behind with solid, hot male flesh, still moist from her mouth.

Hermione’s nerve endings were getting a workout, her breasts growing more and more sensitive as a bold, masculine hand swept from one to the other, rubbing across the hardened peaks, then pinching them until she moaned, before returning to rubbing and squeezing and molding the firm, feminine mounds.

Hermione turned her head sideways and instantly caught sight of her formidable mate and herself in the mirror on her dressing table. He looked like some pagan creature of the moon crouching over her, his white blond hair absorbing the pale, lucent moonlight falling in bars across the bed from the open-curtained window, his lustrous, ivory skin fluidly stretching with his movements. He was incandescent heat and light, and she was blinded with an overwhelming desire for this man, her radiant lover.

A soft, low, velvety voice crooned in her ear, “Do you feel it, wife? Feel me, how I surround you, own you, how your body craves mine. Your heartbeat is speeding, you want to be filled… taken… possessed. You belong to me, only to me.”

His hypnotic words caused an erotic shiver to run through her; she did want, she did need. She wanted his act of domination, to feel his body drive into hers, staking his possession just as he said.

Her husband trailed his wicked fingers from her breasts slowly down her torso, causing her to wiggle with expectation as he delved through her clipped curls and began massaging the needy point of her before dipping farther down to spread her copious honey through her folds. His soft, platinum hair tickled her shoulders as he bent over her, but his sudden nip at her nape made her suck in a gasp; her back arched involuntarily, thrusting her derriere up as more bites decorated her neck and shoulders, teaching her to move only at his command.

Lucius was still lightly panting and didn’t dare touch himself, even to guide his body into hers – he was still too close to the yawning edge of his climax. He desperately needed the seductive pulsing in his groin to subside just a little first – at the moment it was a ticking, cylindrical bomb, too close to detonation. He melted against her back as a halfway measure, allowing his hot length to shelter at the bottom of her spine, but not seeking to merge them just yet. He bit her nape to hold her still, but his small punishing nips on her neck only kept her from wiggling for a few moments, not enough to let him regroup.

When Hermione wriggled again, attempting to redirect his staff inside, he growled, “Be still” and she froze, remembering all the times he’d said that as his final warning. She was drowning in her own sensuous haze, more than ready for his possession and craving the final act of ownership. She wanted his domination as badly as he wanted to claim it; she could feel him fairly vibrating with the male drive that was such an elemental part of the man.

She knew he needed total dominion over her – it was always how their intimate acts ended. He didn’t trust her enough for it to be any other way – yet. The mystery of why she always gave way to him was never clear in her mind, but it was real for all that. In saner moments she admitted that his sovereignty over her fed an inner flame that she rejoiced in, but she had stubbornly shied from recognizing he was truly what she wanted, except in bed. Somewhere, somehow, she had gone beyond that now. She was very afraid small portions of her heart were escaping and finding their way into his care.

Just at this moment, however, he wasn’t ready to take her and she didn’t understand why he was holding off until she heard his ragged, sibilant breathing, felt his rigid, hovering stance over her, and his condition dawned on her. A tiny, wanton smile quirked her slightly sore lips, which had been exhaustively stretched from learning his tool with her tongue and mouth.

She felt his hard cock lift up from her bottom for a moment, then it came to rest on top of her derriere once again, while his chest continued to warm her shoulder blades. The little witch sucked in a fearful breath as this time the blunt head of his penis slid down between her butt cheeks, “I don’t want -” she began, but Lucius interrupted.

In a mere breath of sound, he spelled out his demands, rasping in resolute accents, “Not this time. I won’t do anything else new tonight. But I will, love. I will.” He added dulcetly, “You will learn to take me anally. I will teach you and you will learn.”

Deciding she was safe for this night, the little witch relaxed into the moment when his penis finally, thankfully, pressed slowly forward into the well-lubed sanctuary designed for it. She’d survived oral sex, hadn’t she? Anything else was for another day.

Lucius held himself over his wife, now supporting himself on both arms, flexing his triceps to keep from pressing too hard against her sensitized bum, his fingers clutching the black silk duvet, steadying himself as he stroked her from within. He began their slow dance to madness with his hips guiding them in counterpoint to the bulging of his arm muscles near her shoulders.

She loved the soft growls and harsh, rasping breath of the inflamed man ravishing her, the faint slaps of his thighs against hers as he owned her. Through a rosy haze of arousal, Hermione looked down and fastened on Lucius’ large, elegantly shaped hand beside her much smaller one, his long fingers with their manicured nails clutching the duvet to hold himself in place. She was suddenly reminded of his fist clutching his belt the night he’d used it on her at the nightclub when she had been so cruel to him. Those same elegant, tensile fingers now grasping the black duvet had, just that same way, grasped the leather of the belt he’d wound around his hand. A shiver of remembrance coursed through her, but this time it was intense desire rather than guilty fear. His pace increased.

“Lucius,” she implored desperately, her voice surprising her by breaking on a sob. Her petite body rose to meet his, jerking under the mastery of his thrusts as they found the very back of her, over and over. “Lucius,” she finally wept, the intensity of their joining bringing an elemental, deeply intimate connection to this man who could command her entire self so effortlessly. “Oh, Gods, more... more!”

The locks of his hair fell like ribbons of pale satin against her upturned face, drowning her in erotic sensation. One male palm lifted to smooth the skin of her hip, swiping through their combined sexual sweat as he stepped up his pace even more, his hips pistoning his cock ever more fiercely into his wife. His fingers pressed into her hip, holding her still for thrusts he no longer completely controlled.

Her bum was still sore from her earlier chastisement and when Lucius’ groin began pressing against it more fiercely, the reddened skin complained, making her writhe under his deep stabs. She endured the increasingly forceful pounding until, amazingly, the pain radiating from her tush fiendishly merged with the intense sexual sparks generated in her core and Hermione found another level of paradise, exulting in her mate’s mastery.

Her small body went into uncontrolled tremors accepting the unrelenting assault of Lucius’ punishing plunges, both of them existing purely in that place where their bodies met in heavy smacks. Suddenly Hermione screamed, “Luuuuucius!” and her climax hit her like a tsunami, rolling inexorably over her as she shook with its force.

Lucius never let up on his deep, branding onslaught. He was absolutely uncompromising as he kept up his pace. Straightening up behind her he grabbed her hips with both hands to hold his tiny wife’s body in place for his penetration.

Hermione’s arms collapsed, dropping her head to the bed and she clutched the duvet as her husband continued to ram her all through her climax, eliciting feminine mewls of mixed satisfaction and muted distress, her nerves overloaded with sensation.

Unbearably, the ruthless male thrusts saw her through her climax and forced her to climb higher, then even higher until her impassioned, “Yessss!” and clamping core signaled that he’d pushed her into her second climax. This time she went rigid with a scream that echoed throughout the tower apartment.

Finally satisfied that his woman had taken all her small frame could withstand, the blond wizard let himself go; he luxuriated in her tightened passage, which quickly brought his male body to the edge. With three last, deep strokes, Lucius found his own climax with a deep, gratified bellow of completion. His fingers convulsively gripped his wife’s hips holding her still as he spewed into her recesses in unrestrained jerks, the intensity of his orgasm causing a series of small bruises from his fingers that would decorate her hips next morning.

Lucius drowsily disengaged from his slumping wife and, drawing the covers around them both, he flopped down beside her, gathering his little witch into his arms. He buried his face in her curly hair, kissing the top of her head softly as he recaptured his breath. Uncounted minutes ticked by, then she murmured something too low for him to hear and he asked in a whisper, “Hmm?” keeping his eyes closed.

“I said, thank you for your benevolence,” she yawned. Lucius chuckled, tired, but happy. He had told her she would need to thank him later for his benevolence in accepting oral sex instead of anal.

“Mmmm, welcome,” he slurred; a moment later he was asleep. Hermione twisted in Lucius’ arms to take the pressure off her sweetly sore backside. Oddly, all of the secret, building, aberrant anger against him had dissipated, leaving her dazed and aroused by the spanking and spelunking, but not now so irrationally upset with him. She wondered if physical punishment counteracted the effect of the spell or sickness or whatever it was. Hermione had briefly tried earlier to tell her husband between swats, but all she got was his admonition to “Be still” and from long experience she’d heeded his words, not wishing to extend the spanking. She would tell him later. Hermione closed her eyes and she, too, slept.

Lucius had already showered and gone to his office when Hermione awoke the next morning, but on both their pillows she found the two green leather collars, his and hers.

~~~~

After lunch Hermione was a little shocked to find Lucius standing shirtless before her dressing table mirror admiring the scratches on his arms; she felt badly about marring his flawless ivory skin with the red scrapes from her nails. Then her mouth dropped open to see Lucius sweep his hair behind his shoulder and peer closely at the quite obvious bite mark on his firm pectoral. Chagrin colored her features as Lucius turned to grin at her as she stood in the bedroom doorway. When he saw her upset, he walked over and gathered her in his lightly marred arms, “Hermione, please don’t let these negligible marks distress you. They’re easily repaired. I just wanted to bask for a few moments in your gifts from playing my rough game with me at a level that I understand is uncomfortable for you right now, but so very, very exciting for me. It wasn’t your preference, but you were perfect. Thank you. And thank you also for -”

Hermione hastily put her fingers up over Lucius’ lips. “Yes, yes, I’ll take your thanks as said, please.” Her face bloomed bright red. “I didn’t thank you for each time you’ve done that...uh… come and lick us to me, so there’s no need to thank me now.”

Lucius tried very hard not to laugh, but he was in such an ebullient mood that her cute malapropism burst through his control and he shouted his laughter. Instantly Hermione began wriggling in his arms and he tightened them, crooning, “I’m not laughing at you, sprite.” Her look of angry disbelief had him admitting, “Alright, yes I was, but your words were so delicious.”

He kissed her mutinous lips and said, “The word is cunnilingus, but you were very close – and very descriptive. What you learned last night is called fellatio, not cunnilingus. The two words describe the difference between what I do to you and what you do to me.” He kissed her again more thoroughly, then said, “The vocabulary lesson is over for today. I really have to get dressed now, but I just wanted to express my deep appreciation.”

Lucius released his tiny wife and strode into the wardrobe leaving Hermione bemused and slightly embarrassed at what she had done last night to her husband, but more, at the holes in her vocabulary. She determined to look up both words if she could find a book in the Hogwarts library that included prurient terms. Then - slowly she began to smile until her whole face lit up. Had she ever heard Lucius laugh out loud before? What a delicious sound. She hugged his sheer happiness to her, his mood infectious in the small apartment.

~~~~

Hermione was feeling a little confused but strangely rather peaceful as she walked by herself along the edge of the lake after Lucius had gone back to his office to meet with some visiting dignitaries. As she gazed at the school she realized much of the lingering mental trauma left over from the final battle six years ago had finally faded and she knew it was because of the sense of safety she was experiencing, ironically provided by her husband, a man who originally had caused much of the initial trauma. She shouldn’t be feeling that way after the previous night’s erotic excesses, but she did.

The conviction was growing on her that Lucius would protect her against any danger even at a risk to himself. It was a paradox next to the spankings he administered during their sex play, but in her head his small, carnal disciplines translated to his reserving the right to touch her only to himself. He would never allow anyone else to hurt her. It was a warming concept.

Her bum and hips had some lovely, light bruising and her mental processes were in a whirl, dithering over how she felt about participating in – and enjoying - the previous evening’s over-the-top sex with a man who was turning her moral certitudes inside out and whom she shouldn’t even like, but felt oddly secure with, so it wasn’t the best time for her to be ambushed by her not so favorite person.

Snape walked purposefully over to where Hermione was standing, her robes lifting slightly in the early autumn breeze blowing off the lake, scattering dead leaves around her ankles. His own midnight robes billowed like a ship's sail behind him, but neither of them was concerned with the nip in the air.

Snape stood at Hermione’s side and they both contemplated the low ripples of the lake as it languidly washed more dead leaves to the shore, then out again. When the silence lengthened, Hermione looked up at the dark wizard with a slight frown, “Did you want something? I don’t think you are out here to admire the bare rosebushes.”



Snape studied the diminutive witch for a few seconds as she held his eyes with her own, “I want a few confidential moments of your time. Do I have them?”

When she merely nodded, Snape murmured low enough for his conversation to be private from any truant youngsters in the pines up the hill, “I understand my wife has let you in on our little subterfuge concerning my ‘ruthless besiegement’ of Narcissa, nagging her into marrying me.” He gazed at Hermione, giving away nothing to her but a blank canvas. His face remained its somber self.

“Yes, and I wasn’t too happy to have that knowledge,” Hermione said, her irritation obvious. “That it was the other way round and she sought you out, I mean. Why anyone could believe you, the great misogynist, would actively pursue a woman is a mystery, but perhaps Lucius wants to believe it rather than knowing his wife of many years went after his best friend soon after she divorced him.”

Snape sourly eyed the little female with disfavor, but he had to admit she had a point. Had Lucius merely gone along with the fiction of a love-crazed Severus to save all their faces? The wealthy Malfoy was no one’s fool. The blond wizard may have grasped hold of the fiction of Snape as an avid lover for his own reasons. That idea didn’t sit well; it put a whole other complexion on their friendship that made Snape cringe.

Hermione saw her dart had hit its mark. Good. It was time that the Snapes woke up and understood all that Lucius had swallowed to maintain ties to them. “Why did Narcissa tell me something she thought would be so potentially damaging to Lucius?”

The dark-haired wizard bridled at Hermione’s implied criticism and immediately defended his wife, “Narcissa’s not as devious as a normal Slytherin. I think it’s because Lucius always did her thinking for her and the talent never was honed. But this time, I believe she had, well, perhaps it was a message for you.”

Snape crossed his arms, his normal black robes flaring around his tall frame and catching the breeze anew. “Not well thought out of her, but sincere,” he added. “She hoped to completely clear out any vestigial ideas that she has any interest in her ex-husband other than friendship. It was dangerous to do it that way. She’s handed you a death-blow to Lucius if you choose to use it.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. Snape wasn’t telling this to her just to explain his wife’s odd behavior. She waited for the rest of his furtive comments, delivered out where they would be unobserved or overheard.

“Yes, I see you understand,” Snape said as he saw the grim look appear on Hermione’s face. “If you ever do anything to permanently damage Lucius physically, mentally, or emotionally, you’d better do it to me at the same time or there won’t be enough of you left to fill a fairy’s twat. I don’t think you will, mind you, but the warning has been issued. I hope I make myself perfectly clear?”

Hermione thought about her options. She hadn’t any plans to hurt Lucius in any way. She’d done enough to him already. It smarted to have Snape think he needed to protect Lucius that way against her, but he had cause to think it might be necessary owing to the forced marriage and her previous behavior. Her face slowly relaxed into a calm, determined expression.

“I’m happy that Lucius has such a good friend in you. Let Narcissa know, if she doesn’t already, that I wouldn’t use that information against Lucius. Ever. You may Obliviate the knowledge from my mind if you like.” Hermione’s expression turned fierce, “As a matter of fact, I wish you would. I don’t like thinking of Lucius as being duped by his best friend and his ex-wife. It’s rather déclassé to say the least. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you both had his best interests at heart. I still see your behavior as rather ignoble and shabby, even if I truly think he’s known all along.”

Snape’s mouth crooked into a bleak smile, “You certainly don’t mince your words, do you? I begin to have a better feel for Lucius’ upset these last months. He’s had a hard time with you. You’ve managed to slice him open in your few months with him far worse than our secret would have done. However, for his sake, Narcissa and I want us all to be friends, if you can stomach us in our wicked lie.”

Snape added, “Perhaps you should analyze in that big brain of yours, just why Lucius was trapped by the Dark Lord. Your husband wasn’t immune to Voldemort’s threats against those he cared about. The Dark Lord was just as keen for the Malfoy wealth as that tosser Fudge. And remember who Lucius and Narcissa decided to save at the end.” Snape knew the answer was ‘their own family’, but he wanted peace for Lucius, not a virago for a wife, courtesy of one Severus Snape.

“In the fourteen years while the Dark Lord was gone,” Snape persisted, “Lucius merely behaved like a stodgy, stuck-up Pureblood. He wasn’t actively out for anyone’s downfall and he could have been. Lucius always had it in his power to do much worse against Muggleborns and us Halfbloods, but he didn’t. He had more than enough money to make life quite miserable for all of us, but that didn’t happen until the Dark Lord showed up again.

"His major solo effort was that disaster with the book horcrux and there he was trying to undermine Dumbledore with whom he had myriad differences, and to a lesser extent Arthur Weasley, a Pureblood who admired all things Muggle. Dumbledore wasn’t a saint, you know, and the book wasn’t supposed to cause that kind of trouble. Lucius only knew it was a dark artifact, plus he wanted it out of his house. Lucius wasn’t aiming at or even trying to hurt the Muggleborn children. When he saw other children were affected, he was frightened that Draco would be hurt, but by then it was too late. He paid terribly for losing Voldemort one of his horcruxes, by focusing the Dark Lord’s attention on Draco in retaliation.”

Hermione’s face fell and she wilted like a pricked balloon. “Yes,” she whispered, “I know. He’s an arrogant snob who thinks of Muggleborns as low class peons, but he merely saw us as watering down the magical strength of the wizarding world and wanted us to go back to the Muggle world, he wasn’t actively trying to bring about our demise, not until Voldemort returned. It’s ironic that he used Voldemort‘s book to oust Dumbledore and now he’s Headmaster. Fate has a way of biting us in the butt.”

Snape frowned, a tinge of sadness fleeting across his austere features, “That book did cost him. None of us knew about the horcruxes at all, except perhaps Bellatrix, and she may only have been protecting the Hufflepuff cup because her precious Dark Lord said to. Anyway,” Snape said, waving the unpleasant past away with the negligent sweep of his long, permanently stained fingers, “My point is that Lucius has never been a friend to Muggles and he isn’t likely to sign up for season tickets to watch Manchester United play football in this lifetime, but he isn’t going to actively persecute Muggles any more, either."

“I understand that now. Vividly,” Hermione said, a tiny smile peeking out of her eyes and drawing an answering gleam from the depths of the black eyes studying her. “If it is best for Lucius, I want us to all be friends, too. I found out too late that he doesn’t have feelings made of dragonhide like I thought he did.”

Hermione’s remembrance of all the ways she had vilified her husband shot a shaft of pain through her heart and her mood plummeted. “He’s more vulnerable than I realized and he was only ever reacting to my behavior. I do see that now. His one recent major piece of nastiness was forcing me to marry him and I’ve almost forgiven him – and you - for that,” she said, a brief smile lighting her features.

“And there, too, he was working for his coterie,” Snape immediately rushed to defend Lucius as he had Narcissa, giving Hermione more confidence in her husband’s choice of friends. “He did use you, I admit, to give him access to Hogwarts, but he wanted to honor his marriage once done. I am to blame as much as Lucius for your initial coercion, seeing as it was our plan that trapped you, but what’s done is done. He is willing to give you everything of his, including himself. He came very quickly to that conclusion after you married. Can you say the same?”

“Not as quickly as he did, no, but I have now.” She put one hand on Snape’s black-clad sleeve and he could feel it faintly trembling, “You have nothing to worry about from me and… and I apologize for my behavior in that nightclub.” Her hand slid off and dangled forlornly at her side. One lone tear tracked from misted brown eyes and wound its way down to her lips as she saw that her husband’s attempts to build a permanent life with her illuminated all of his actions.

Snape knew she had already made her apology to Narcissa and Narcissa had accepted it, so he nodded his own acceptance as well. Seeing his acknowledgement, Hermione turned and walked away. Snape let her go, watching as she trudged up the hill to the school. Perhaps Narcissa had called it correctly when she told Hermione about their sub rosa romance. Sometimes he was astonished at his wife’s perspicacity, seeing into people’s hearts where he only saw the surface without the help of Legilimency. Had he completely missed that Lucius knew of Narcissa’s seeking him out after the divorce?

Snape viciously kicked at a broken twig on the ground, sending it into the lake where it bobbed for a moment before sinking. His thoughts spiraled down into regret, sinking just like the hapless twig. Here he was, threatening Hermione about hurting Lucius, when it was possible that he, Severus, had done much worse.

Snape stared blindly at the lake for a while, his dark hair lifting in the rising breeze. With a sigh, he decided that whether or not Lucius had known the truth, the blond had made the choice to stand by his ex-wife and best friend and it was far too late to change the situation now. If Hermione’s surmise was true and Lucius had made a conscious choice to move past their altered circumstances and stay friends, it was a great gift Lucius had bestowed and all three of them were extremely lucky to be friends. A mantle of calm settled over his unpleasant thoughts, soothing his conscience.

Snape didn’t know if Lucius’ new marriage could ever work, but he thought maybe it had a chance if Hermione now wanted to protect her husband rather than tear him apart. The little termagant gave an excellent imitation of a woman fearlessly defending her mate against those whom she saw could hurt him.

Snape began to smile as he walked up the hill toward Hogwarts and the dungeons where Narcissa awaited him with a bottle of his favorite wine. The last tiny sliver of jealousy he’d harbored against Lucius as the previous husband slipped into obscurity. Lucius had a new wife to take care of and who apparently wanted to take care of him in return, leaving Narcissa wholly to her new husband. Both Snape’s speed and his smile increased.

tbc...

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