Ultimate Experience Part I : Passion

The upcoming dance scene was inspired by a song called Le Bien Qui Fait Mal by La Troupe from the French musical Mozart l'Opera Rock!

However, I can also blame Le Tango de Roxanne from Moulin Rouge ;)

Enjoy!


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Chapter 4




Hermione Granger had first learned about the unpredictability of life the day she received her Hogwarts acceptance letter.

From then on, the young witch began to meet all oncoming obstacles armed with undisputed intelligence and logic. The initial wonder of the magical realm steadily brought new challenges, which were met head-on with flutters of fear and excitement. Young minds tended to be impressionable and Hermione was of no exception to that rule. Her hungering mind absorbed every possible scrap of information that books were able to provide her with. Nevertheless, no matter how vast or comprehensive the literary sphere seemed to be, the most significant knowledge of all came from living. With time, the bushy-haired know-it-all grew into a young witch who came to learn the most valuable lesson of all: not everything was painted in black and white, and that those shades of grey had a tendency to produce the most unexpected occurrences of all.

However, neither of these assurances appeared to have come back to Hermione, who was blinking stupidly up at Lucius Malfoy. Her sole speculation was on whether she was losing her hearing simultaneously with her mind. A packaged deal, so to say.

'Dance?' she repeated, her voice hoarse.

For a while, the wizard impassively contemplated her flabbergasted expression without dignifying her with a response.

'Am I correct to presume, Miss Granger, that you have not forgotten the dancing lessons of your teenage years?'

The inquiry, pronounced in that sophisticated voice, was so unexpected, that the young witch reflexively nodded in affirmative. Hence, she could only stare with widening eyes as the wizard in front of her adopted a positively gleeful grin.

'Perfect.'

All of a sudden, the music around them changed. Prominent tunes of a violin, guitar and something powerful yet undistinguishable began to possess the surrounding atmosphere. Even though it was just the beginning, the melody was already exhilarating. In the midst of the music's bewitchment, Hermione failed to notice how her left hand ended up on the man's shoulder and her other was enveloped in a large, masculine palm.

Without warning, she was pulled firmly against the front of a distinctly muscular body. Pulse racing, the witch lifted her head and found herself staring at the most breathtaking male features she ever had the misfortune of encountering. Scared witless to make even one movement, she could only watch helplessly as the bane of her existence began to lower his head. The fragrance that was pure Lucius Malfoy filled her senses yet again. She closed her eyes in surrender as his warm breath washed over her sensitive earlobe. Unable to contain herself any longer, Hermione shuddered.

'It is declared,' he whispered silkily, 'that every passionate dance tells its story. In that case, let us relate our own.'

And then, he sent the two of them into motion.

Never had she encountered such a mix of ferocity and elegance in one. Lucius' body moved in its confident grace with the rhythm of the music. Unbeknown to her, Hermione's own figure adjusted to the steps and unquestionable skill of her partner. Swept away by the currents of melody and passion, the couple began their tango.

Although, it most certainly had never been performed in such fashion as it was now.

What was more, the unfamiliar dynamical notes did not hinder the dance but escalated the intensity of their movements. Every lead's step and movement was instantly followed by the other, not once losing track of the erratic beat. Side step. Pivot. Partial weight transfer. Even as their bodies effortlessly yielded from one element to another, their eyes not once strayed from each other. Lips partially parted and breathing somewhat ragged by an overflow of awareness, Hermione found herself unable to look away.

Existing within a musical dimension, she developed an acute consciousness and thus easily fell back at the sensation of her partner's advancing strides. Moving backwards with precise, fiery movements, the witch impulsively slid her palm from Lucius' shoulder until it rested on his broad chest. There, underneath the black silk and searing sensation of his muscles, she distinctly felt the slightly irregular beat of his own heart.

With an unexpected whirl, Hermione found herself with her back now flush with the wizard's front. With one hand resting possessively on her belly and the other curled around her shoulder, he kept on leading her. And as they danced, with every executed circling of their bodies as one, it brought his unbound white-blond hair cascading over her shoulder.

It was impossible to say how long the two of them danced to the sound of their melody, but every song had its ultimate end. Her partner must have detected the approaching finale as well, for in the next second she was spun back to face him. With his hands now respectively on her lower back and hip, Hermione chanced to raise her head. The eyes that met hers were no longer gray. Instead, she found herself peering into the most magnificent silver irises in existence. Staring solidly back, his hand grasped her thigh and hooked it unabashedly across his hip.

Right there and then, a single violin brought the song to its climax. In one fluid movement, Hermione's upper body spilled away from his, creating an elegant arch of her spine. Instantaneously, his thigh managed to wedge itself between her legs. Along with the last bittersweet, dying tune, his elegant fingers touched upon the skin of her neck and made a tantalizing path down to the swell of her breasts. All the while, he steadily started to pull her back up, making damn sure that she slid up his leg as firmly as possible.

A hardly audible moan escaped Hermione's lips as a sharp spasm overtook all of her nether regions. It was the sole sound that penetrated the pounding in her ears. She did not even realise her eyes were shut until she actually opened them.

'That was quite some tale, Miss Granger,' purred a voice into her ear.

All of a sudden, the young woman became aware once again of who she was. In whose embrace she just lost all of her restraint. The rising panic, shame and fear in unison seized her throat, up to the point where she was ready to suffocate. In spite of all that, she was unable to escape the sheer, unadulterated lust that pumped heavily through her blood stream.

The floodgates were finally open, and Hermione Granger was absolutely terrified.

Lucius did not attempt to stop the young witch from struggling weakly out of his arms. For a moment, she merely stood there trembling, unable to even look at him. She knew now that she just wasn't strong enough.

'I'm...I mean I have t-to...can't..so s-sorry,' she stuttered, and with a parting bewildered look at him, took off like a bat out of hell.

If Hermione owned a pair of eyes on the back of her head, she would have gained further speed at the imagery of Lucius Malfoy staring after her, smiling sinfully.

The perplexed witch, however, took no notice of the people around her. Practically every patron in the vicinity had their eyes fixed either on the young woman or the arresting wizard on the vacant dance floor. A number of the club's entertainers stood frozen where they were, wrapped half-way around their poles.

Nonetheless, it was more or less impossible to turn a blind eye on the reactions of her companions.

There was not a single jaw that wasn't at risk of hitting the table. The Longbottoms were in a crystal clear shock. Harry himself looked like a victim of a Bludger-inflicted concussion, staring at her as if she were a total stranger. His wife, on the other hand, sat frozen in the same position as she was when her friend was dragged off to the floor, her cocktail raised half-way to her mouth. The expression on her face was something akin to awe.

The most picture-worthy of all, however, was Ronald Weasley. The young man had adopted an uncanny resemblance to a rainbow trout. In character with his close cold-blooded vertebrate relative, his face was in the process of interchanging an array of colours. His gaping mouth did not help a notch in improving his image of a rather scandalized fish. His girlfriend just looked bored.

Predictably, Ron was the first to break the stunned silence.

'You are shagging him, aren't you?'

After ignoring the obvious for months on end, and tiptoeing around her own groundless guilt, Hermione had had enough.

'And what if I am? What's in it for you? You have successfully disconnected me from your mind the minute you have devised the plan to have a menage-a-trois with those cheerleader twins! One month before our wedding! You are no longer of any concern to me, Ronald! You do not see me running around and demanding how many pregnancy protection spells you cast per night with your Bambi, do you?'

Her ex-fiance's mouth kept opening and closing for a while before he lamely admitted:

'We haven't done it yet.'

'You just don't get it! I do not give a flying monkey's arse anymore with whom and how you are doing it! For months now, I have been torturing myself by wondering whether I have lost my soul-mate to some silly, feminine tantrum. However, I now realise that it might as well have been the smartest thing I have ever done in my life. It was rather fortunate that I broke off our engagement when I had, Ron. So...get over it. I just did.'

Without another word, Hermione Granger turned on her heel and left.

In spite of feeling lighter than she ever been in months, a new unease buried itself in her heart...and her core.

She might have finally gotten rid of an undeserving fool but she seemed to acquire for herself a totally new specimen to worry about.

Truth be told, she did not know the first thing about how one could possibly deal with a man like Lucius Malfoy. It would be wise to forget the way he moved, the sound of his voice...the incomparable sensation of his breath upon her skin. Yes, that's precisely what she had to do. Stomp on her vivid memories and bury them in the deepest voids of her mind. Easily done.

Yes, whispered her consciousness mockingly, and you are the long-lost daughter of Tom Marvolo Riddle.




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