The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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3-26-10 F

Yikes!! I wuz robbed!! Somehow 9 reviews from my story, “Beyond the Veil” disappeared. And this week I got 18 reviews for ‘Taming’ but the site only recorded four. Weird, very, very weird. Is anyone else noticing a discrepancy? I think I’ll ask in the Forum…


In any case, I love getting my reviews and I want to thank all of you who made me smile this week.


Um, lemons ahead, including more spanking for those who want to be warned. There is more plot later on, so don't skip the chapter entirely.


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Chapter Forty-Two



Hermione Takes the Lead



Pulling off his jacket, Lucius strolled into the bedroom, surprised to find his wife standing on the middle of their bed, bouncing lightly, her black ribbon rosette in place at her neck, but her stilettos tossed onto the floor. “Vive la France?” he asked, intrigued nearly as much by her strange phrase as by her jiggling breasts and the sweet, tidy, furry little thatch beckoning him.

He began to pull on his bow tie, but Hermione cried out, “NO!” As he hesitated, she said more quietly, “No, don’t remove the bow tie. You can take off your shoes and socks and then come here to the bed.”

Lucius cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, then shrugged and complied, stepping out of his shoes and sitting on the side of the bed to take off his socks. “Now what?” he said, an amused smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he looked up at the little witch standing, feet apart, bobbling on the mattress. His view was fascinating.

“I want you to lie face up in the middle of the bed and rest up against the pillows I’ve put against the headboard.”

“With my clothes on?” Lucius was poking a hole in his trousers and he wanted them off. His erection was being bowed in the material, creating a soupçon of pain that wasn’t entirely disagreeable, but he wanted to get on with using his fleshy edifice to poke something more promising than the silk–lined wool of his trousers.

“Yes,” she stated imperiously, letting a note of command enter her voice and hoping he would allow the shift in their usual roles. Sitting naked at dinner had made her so horny she wanted to howl with frustrated, physical need. He could have his turn later. For now, she wanted to direct that sensual, male body to her bidding.

Lucius sat still for a moment, his eyes straying to the mound of pillows stacked against the headboard of the bed and then back to his nude, bossy little wife. A thrill of erotic excitement pulled his trousers even tighter as his fertile mind began imagining what she might do.

Cocking his head in an attitude of mild inquiry, he hoisted himself onto the mattress and settled against the pillows so they comfortably supported his back. He straightened his long legs and relaxed, waiting for his petite lady to decide what to do with him. Narcissa had always been the submissive one and his one experience with Bellatrix had been like tangling with a wild animal. His few one-nighters had been for release and otherwise rather robotic, even with the groupies. Lucius was happily discovering there was a third way to enjoy a woman and he was finding it amazingly steamy. Apparently strong-willed women had quite the potential for take-no-prisoners sex, which (except for unhinged Bellatrix) had never been a real possibility – until now.

There was something about the implacable set of her mouth and haughty, demanding expression that plucked his sexual strings like a marionette dancing to its owner’s hand. He only wished she would hurry and release him from his pants. This evening’s adventure promised to be a riveting ride; he so very much hoped she planned to ride.

When Hermione saw that Lucius had done her bidding without a single murmur of demurral or discontent, her buoyant spirit soared. Was it her commanding air or her firm directions? Was that a clue to the inner desires of this arrogant man? That he liked someone else to take charge sometimes? “This is next,” she announced, showing him his own green leather collar.

She immediately straddled Lucius’ waist and bent down to begin opening the studs on his dress shirt, but when he lifted his hands to help her, she batted them away. “Lie still, Lucius, and let me do this. Your job is to relax.”

Lucius stared at the collar, realizing that perhaps there were a few details of sex with a strong-willed woman that he had failed to recognize. “Hermione, you do know the collars are for play? I’m not much of a masochist.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not much of a sadist. At least I don’t think so.” Hermione’s smile was a bit alarming as she worked through all the studs and pulled his shirttails from his trousers. She merely opened the material to display his chest, but left the shirt on his shoulders. His bow tie remained tied around his bare neck, which now resembled hers with her black ribbon rosette necklace.

When the little witch slipped the green leather around her husband’s neck, she frowned, “Why doesn’t this collar lock magically like mine does?”

A blond eyebrow rose at the obtuse question. “Hermione, the collars belong to me. Why would I set a magic lock on my own collar when I know the spell to release it?” His expression was a little patronizing; the collar in question was tugged a little more tightly than necessary.

“Remove the locking spell from my collar,” she demanded, watching his skin pinken at the snug fit around his neck.

“I’ll do it in the morning. No need to cut off my air supply. I think we don’t need the locking spell any more anyway, do we?” Lucius lay perfectly still, not attempting to loosen the collar himself. His silvery eyes shone, sharing his knowledge of her wanton interests with her.

“No, I suppose not,” she conceded with a grin. Hermione adjusted the leather collar looser and looped the ends of his bow tie into a couple of the rings. She sat back and admired the effect, rather elegant and definitely erotic. A formal, black-tie leather collar. “I think you look best in your collar when I’m not wearing mine,” she smiled.

Lucius blinked, a belated frisson of alarm shooting down his spine at this take-charge attitude his wife was suddenly sprouting, but after a moment’s contemplation, he decided he liked it well enough to continue; he could always call a halt if she did anything he disliked. A drop of Hermione’s feminine moisture fell onto Lucius’ torso and he scooped it onto his finger, lifting it to his lips, but again Hermione was before him and stalled the movement.

“You do still owe me dessert, Hermione,” he crooned, his voice sliding like velvet over her body, but he put his hands back down on the duvet where she seemed to want them. The leather collar began to warm against his skin.

“In good time,” she decreed firmly, sliding her hands down to his belt and opening it, pulling it out of the loops and dropping it over the side of the bed. She had his zipper down and his trousers splayed open so fast, the release of the constricted blood in his shaft shot a bolt of pure, unvarnished lust all the way to his toes, earning her a deep sigh of male gratitude as his penis was released from its cloth prison. However, before he could enjoy more than the fierce unleashing of pressure, he was disappointed to see her straighten away from his organ again and it showed on his face.

It was unusual for Lucius to telegraph any emotion that put him at a disadvantage and Hermione knew how valuable the gift of his open, expressive, dismayed face was to her. Her heart leapt up as she tucked that gesture away to savor later. Smiling in genuine commiseration with his carnal disappointment, she moved her feet up on either side of his ribcage, facing him and giving the blond wizard an excellent view of her feminine secrets. Now that he was freed from the physical confinement of his lower body, he was ready to enjoy whatever she designed for his pleasure.

Suddenly her knees came down, settling onto the balls of his shoulders and she deliberately pitched forward, grabbing the headboard above Lucius’ head. Her aim was spot on as Lucius got much more than an eyeful of his wife’s liquid assets. He was presented with that tantalizing, moist cleft just above his lips and all he had to do was raise his chin to find the ambrosia his little vixen was serving up for him.

“Dessert is served, Lucius. You wanted it, so you had better make sure to compliment the chef,” she laughed. Lucius instantly raised his head at the same time that she wiggled down and both moaned with delight at their connection.

A firm, masculine tongue quickly found the pert nub in her cleft and soon his artistry brought gusty sighs from them both. In no time Lucius’ chin and lips were awash in the feast of his wife’s honey and the aroused Slytherin reached up with his hands to grab Hermione’s tight little derriere, bringing her closer for his delectation, while rubbing his face between her petals. Long licks and soft bites made Hermione wobble on her perch, but Lucius’ sure hands guided her unerringly onto his mouth as he lapped up every feminine drop he could find.

His foray into her sensitive interior made her buck in reaction, but his hands held her steady as he indeed complimented the chef, stabbing straight into her hidden core to do it. Lucius could only make inarticulate humming noises, buried in his wife’s folds, but Hermione was not so hampered.

“Oh, oh, Lucius, yessss, that’s it…more, moooorrre, harder…I want…oh, Gods, yesyesyesyesssss…” Hermione’s uninhibited if not quite coherent suggestions faded to sweetly feminine sighs, which became moans, then stuttering breaths and finally a high keening as Hermione neared her peak.

The moment came when she suddenly went rigid and Lucius was ready. Without missing a beat of his tongue, he slipped a wet finger into her back entrance and she jolted forward, screaming out her climax as her nails scored the wooden headboard.

Lucius held her tightly, still stroking up and down her folds with long sweeps of his tongue as she shuddered and twitched for long moments, finally collapsing over her husband’s head with a long, drawn out sigh. He kept his naughty finger embedded in her derriere at first, then sawed gently in and out as the little witch recovered her breath and her wits from being delicately reamed out by both her husband’s tongue and finger. As she slid bonelessly down Lucius’ chest, he released her little pink pucker, popping out his inserted digit and letting her nestle in his lap, her face under his still moist chin.

As she lay in his arms, she felt his erection insistently jerk under her mildly abused backside and it woke her up to his possible intentions. Oddly, the idea of his anal possession wasn’t quite so scary after yet another of his unauthorized dips into her uncharted territory. She supposed the sensation was becoming more familiar, not that it was anything she looked forward to in her marriage. He had made his intentions clear long since and she knew she was on borrowed time, but not so soon. She wanted to know well ahead of time when she would be expected to submit to that new area of sex.

In a tiny, worried voice, Hermione whispered, “Please, not that tonight, Lucius.”

The wizard kissed the top of her head and gently rolled her under him, shushing her. “I just want to be inside where my tongue was. Invite me in, Hermione,” he said, his voice low and entreating.

“Not quite yet,” she replied, sitting up and gently pushing him aside. “I’m not finished. Turn over, Lucius.”

The surprised wizard froze with his tongue out, intending to sweep it along his wife’s collarbone. Retrieving his aplomb he closed his mouth and gave her a questioning frown. “You’re not finished? Hermione, what are you playing at? I demand to know before I acquiesce to anything.”

“You demand? Are you always in charge of our intimacies? I didn’t know that. Very well, do as you wish. I’m finished here. I need a shower.” Hermione moved as if to get off their bed, but Lucius reached for one of her wrists and held her still.

“Am I being blackmailed? Coerced into blindly doing what you want before I may have my release?”

Hermione looked down at his fingers circling her wrist. Then she looked up at her frowning mate, “It certainly looks that way to me,” she said, shrugging in unconcern. She tried an experimental, short tug on her wrist, which didn’t gain her her freedom; she just stared at Lucius expectantly.

Lucius grabbed his wand from his nightstand, cleaned off his wet face and hands, then put it back, never taking his eyes from Hermione’s face. “If I agree to do as you ask, will you tell me what you intend to do?” Lucius asked, his frown still in place, but now he looked more confused than angry.

“Yes, but agree first.” Hermione waited.

Lucius’ newly cleaned lips tightened, but he was viciously aroused and really, he assured himself, how much could he be letting himself in for with her? She only knew what he’d taught her.

“Very well, I agree.” Now Lucius waited. He let go of her wrist.

“I’m sorry,” now she grinned, adorably evil, “but it’s the hairbrush for you. Lower your trousers to your ankles and turn over, Lucius. I want you to lie face down and put your hands up above your head, grasping the headboard balusters. I don’t want you to remove your hands until I give you permission.”

“You’re remembering me saying that someday I might let you spank me. I assume today is the day. Very well, you can show me what you’ve learned.” Lucius took his time doing as his wife directed, dropping his trousers to his ankles and shimmying into place, face down, as he grabbed onto the balusters of the headboard.

He didn’t see the expression on his witch’s face or he might not have moved so ‘meekly’ to do her bidding. Hermione fumed at his turning her maiden effort at domination into a lesson she was to demonstrate for him. Even the sight of that glorious, tight male posterior failed to seduce her out of her get-even mood. It truly was a good thing she was not sadistic or he might have something to worry about. Wrestling any command away from him would be a never-ending, slippery proposition, but she was determined to succeed, tonight at least.

Hermione let him lie on the bed for a few moments, enjoying his surreptitious humping, trying to relieve that monumental hard-on he’d sported. Then she barked, “Be still!” Oh, how delicious, saying his phrase back to him. She was gratified to see him freeze in place. Curious gray eyes peeked at her through the curtain of his hair as he lay prone, naked from waist to ankles.

The witch in charge retrieved her hairbrush from her dressing table and strode back to the bedside, rubbing the back of the brush a few times over the globes of his butt. “You’ll receive twenty strokes. I’ll count out five, then you will say, ‘thank you, more please’ until I reach twenty. If you complain at any point, five more strikes will be added. Do you understand?”

A big, gusty sigh tinged with deliberate ennui indicating his acknowledgement, was punctuated by the first blow. “Ow! Don’t start out so hard!” Lucius craned his head to glare at his wife.

“Five extra strokes.”

Lucius groaned and buried his face in the pillow, sulking as he endured four more swats. They weren’t that hard, but he wasn’t used to being the submissive; he’d only teased when he said she might spank him sometime in the future. His benevolent generosity tonight in letting her take the lead shouldn’t have to hurt, dammit. When the blows paused, his muffled, irritated voice came from the pillow, “Thank you, more please.”

Hermione grinned hugely, seeing for the first time the pinkening skin on someone besides her. She delivered five more firm smacks, watching his admittedly fine glutes resonate with the blows. She was beginning to see why Lucius enjoyed this. Pink skin turned to red.

Each time she paused, his required response was muffled as though he hated playing his role in their bedroom game. Hermione had played his part several times; she wasn’t going to cater to his sullen attitude. As his skin got darker red, Hermione softened the blows a bit, not wanting him to think she was brutal, but not wishing to be seen as a softie either. Her twenty-five strokes finally came to an end with a flourish of three of her best and she took a step back, saying, “You may rise now.” Belatedly, she was just a little nervous of having spanked a premier Death Eater.

Lucius lay still for a moment, feeling the throb of his punishment, noticing how the rhythm tingling in his rear was in perfect sync with the pulsing of his penis. After about the fifteenth swat, his irritation had given way to escalating appreciation. The delectable stinging sensation correlated to his desire to pound into his woman in that same rhythm.

He rose slowly from the bed, no betrayal of his mood on his face, and moved toward Hermione. Her first impulse was to run, but if she was going to enter into these rough, erotic games heart and soul with this man, they both had to know she was a full partner, not merely his junior partner. Hermione stood, outwardly relaxed.

Her husband had to hobble because his trousers were still around his ankles, but somehow he didn’t look at all funny. In two steps he stood close in front of her and a slow grin stole across his face. “As you command, I have risen,” he looked down at the tumescence now poking his wife in her belly. “Have I given satisfaction?”

Hermione barely had time to nod before she was flat on her back on their bed, a large, excited male climbing up over her.

The blond wizard wriggled the rest of the way out of his lowered trousers, uncaring that they landed in a heap at the foot of the bed. As Hermione lay quietly under him, he knelt between her legs and ripped off his shirt, throwing it aside, too. All that was left to either of them were their black cloth neckties and his collar.

“Your tux trousers will be terribly wrinkled,” Hermione pointed out.

“You made me wear them around my ankles. They’re beyond wrinkled already. Stop worrying about my wardrobe; I’ll iron the damn pants myself, if I have to,” he said gruffly. “I have more tuxedos, but only one wife. Guess which one I’m interested in at the moment.”

He used his knees to part Hermione’s thighs farther and then presented himself at her entrance, mutely asking her to bring him into her. Hot gray eyes drilled into big, brown ones as he waited for permission. Apparently this was her night to direct their bedroom activities; he was still willing to let her keep the reins – this time.

Hermione gazed up into her husband’s face, bemused at the way he was giving her command of their lovemaking. She thought she could easily get used to this new type of sex play and tried to focus on what she wanted to do next. A slight smile was Lucius’ only clue until he saw her hands come up and begin to rub her own breasts, squeezing, tweaking the nipples and moving them from side to side in an obvious, erotic display designed to send him into overload as he knelt there like a supplicant. “You’re so pretty in your collar, Lucius,” she purred, spurring Lucius’ libido into overdrive.

When he growled in mock anger, Hermione laughed and slid one hand down her torso and onto his cock, petting him and spreading the pre-cum around his ruddy glans until his eyes closed in mute appreciation. Finally, when Lucius started shaking with his arousal, Hermione took pity and gently pulled his poor, throbbing organ toward her.

That was all the encouragement Lucius needed; he lunged forward, no holds barred, and in one thrust had embedded his entire length, holding her slight shoulders so she wouldn’t be shuffled into the headboard. Within two strokes, Lucius established a punishing pace of deep, powerful plunges, never faltering, never allowing less than his full length to penetrate until his wife began to keen again.

“That’s right, sprite, feel me, use me, ride my length. You wanted to tease me, now take what you want. Take it all,” he groaned, his body serving up everything he promised as he circled his hips, corkscrewing his tool into his little witch, then out again. “Fly, Hermione, let go and fly.”

Her inner muscles were tightening on him, causing his balls to tighten in response. He knew he was close, so he reached between them and sought that same nub he’d tongued not so many minutes before. One thumb twist, two, and it was all over – for both of them. Hermione’s shriek split the silence while Lucius’ bellow sang counterpoint in a lower register.

A sated hush fell on the room as two replete bodies, one with a throbbing bum, came reluctantly back to earth. At length Lucius murmured, “Dessert was delicious, but expensive,” as he tucked his little wife up against his still trembling torso. Corralling her with one honey-haired forearm, he burrowed his face into her curls. “Next time,” he murmured into her hair, “I want to see you wearing yours,” he touched his collar, “for me.” Then he slept.

Hermione nuzzled her face under her husband’s chin, inhaling his special scent, the smell soothing her and bringing her an odd serenity. Her eyes closed and she, too, slept.

~~~~~~~~

Hermione gazed at her sleeping husband in the early light the next morning. Dawn was only minutes old as she lay tucked up against his large, warm frame. He was on his back, the duvet knocked down just below his waist; he usually threw the bedclothes off at night, being too warm-blooded to need the covers. Given the rare opportunity, she studied him in the weak daylight diffusing though the room. A slight, disappointed moue pursed her mouth; she must not be too proficient yet at the hairbrush if he could already sleep on his back.

Then she shrugged and grinned in the faint gloom; her body was pleasantly sore from his possession and her libido was unabashedly wallowing in the memory of her brief stint as the one in charge of the sex. It was a heady feeling, having sexual control over this powerful wizard, even if he let her do it; it felt like he had enjoyed it as much as she had. Lucius was right that she hadn’t forgot his enigmatic response early on in their marriage that someday he might let her spank him. Turning the idea into reality had been immensely satisfying.

After tracking his chest rising and falling in an even pattern of somnolence, she moved her scrutiny, first to the piece of green leather still gracing his neck, then to his face, and sighed. She must be suffering from a bad case of propinquity if she was now finding the faint lines radiating from the corners of his eyes wildly attractive. His greater age was having no effect on her libido except to wonder why she hadn’t tried older men before. In truth, it really hadn’t been a deterrent to his satisfying her from the very beginning.

Hermione hadn’t tried to flatten Lucius’ ego using digs at his age for quite a while – to her, the whole idea lacked validity now and gave her twinges of conscience thinking about what she had said to him before. What worried her more was his attitude. She had the feeling that he was still putting weight on the comparison of their ages, which was hurting their relationship.

On the one hand she knew Lucius was pleased with his marriage for more than the opportunity to investigate the Pureblood threat. It would have been very difficult to hide his pleasure in the bedroom and he had made no effort to do so. So sex at least could be counted in the plus column. She hadn’t made it easy for him to converse or even exist in any comfort near her, yet he had singlemindedly persevered in trying to help her adapt socially to his milieu.

Her acceptance by his crowd wasn’t necessary for him to become Headmaster of Hogwarts. It was just as Snape had said. Lucius may have trapped her into the marriage to help him find out what was destroying the Purebloods, but he was also intending to honor his marriage to her. Looking at the handsome wizard sleeping quietly beside her, she finally made peace with her new reality. She was finished sowing disharmony in their lives.

What more could ever happen between them was for the future, but Hermione wasn’t going to continue down the destructive path she’d set in place on their wedding day. She had already decided not to antagonize her mate any more after he had left her for two weeks, but this was a higher resolution, an almost joyful acceptance of her new role as a wife. Hermione slipped back into sleep, her mind calm and peaceful.



~~~~~

The détente held between husband and wife in the Malfoy household as small, hesitant offerings of daily pleasantries were given and accepted and a steady schedule of conventional sex helped to establish a new, shy rapport between Lucius and Hermione. Both collars were tucked away for the time being as the two tried to forge some sort of relationship.

Things were at last settling in his marriage and Lucius didn’t want to reintroduce any agitation, so he held off on any more grandiose or avant-garde sexual ideas. He had his hands full with his money problems and the school’s operation, so the very quietude of his personal life was a welcome blessing.

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Weeks turned into months as all members of the investigation team tried their best to pinpoint any possible sources of what was beginning to snowball into more and more frequent contretemps, oddly involving more female students than male. November slid into December. First it got cold, then it snowed, blanketing the grounds with a powder of white that made everything look bright and new.

Unfortunately, the scenery of pretty snow was deceiving. The occasional hair-pulling began to escalate into real catfights and more subversive action such as itching powder in moisturizers, hair ribbons soaked in depilatories, and even more heinous crimes. One girl had her gown for the upcoming Yule Ball permanently changed from a flattering blue to an ugly, fluorescent orange that clashed horribly with her carroty hair. Cattiness was raised to an art form at Hogwarts.

At first, the boy students, being less affected, were vastly entertained by the clever, if vitriolic tricks the girls were playing on each other, and were cashing in on the bold, lustful attacks on them perpetrated by the juvenile sirens. However, they quickly became embroiled in the feminine warfare when they snickered too loudly and too often at the victims. By the time of the Yule Ball it was out and out war between both sexes of all the Houses with Slytherin being attacked most, but the staff could see definite problems with Purebloods from other Houses being picked on also.

The only thing keeping a lid on events was Lucius’ early institution of mandatory physical exercise for all students. He made them run, do push-ups and chin-ups, climb ropes, and swim laps in the indoor pool that was part of the improvements after the war. The fitness routine was exhausting to the students who hadn’t before been required to do anything more strenuous than either play Quidditch or watch the games.

Parents who at first questioned the physical regimen, quieted when their children showed steady improvements in their physiques; the corpulent ones lost weight and the thinner ones put on muscle. As an unforeseen problem, competitions of who could run fastest, swim farthest, or do the most chin-ups popped up, which was better only in that the combatants tired themselves out. Otherwise, the students now had another avenue of spite to pursue.

In the face of the rabid competitive spirit, Snape decided he would keep the new physical recreation program in the curriculum even when their current problem was solved as he thought this new rivalry of physical prowess was actually more human-based than caused by the phantom specter hovering over them. Overall, it was one positive thing that had come from the crisis.

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“Well, we wanted to study a microcosm,” Snape said dispiritedly to his small band of investigators. “The Yule Ball is tonight and I just hope the dancing will help lessen the students’ inclinations to maul each other. I hate to say this, but I really would prefer that the little bastards go back to merely sexually mauling each other instead. This could be dangerous if we don’t find an answer soon.”

“Severus,” Narcissa whispered loud enough for all to hear, “language.”

“Oh?” He looked innocently at his wife with wide eyes, “Did I just call our students little bastards?” He turned back to his audience, “Do please excuse my lapse. It must be the strain,” he proffered in his ironic, deadpan voice giving instant lie to his apology. The entire group knew that Snape’s idea of the perfect student was spit-flambéed over a slow fire.

Quiet snickers floated through the air and Narcissa shrugged with good-natured acceptance.

Snape sat on top of one of the student desks in Draco’s classroom where they were again meeting, idly swinging one booted foot, “The enmity in the rest of the wizarding world isn’t progressing as fast as our little combatants are reacting here, although there do seem to be more females reacting than males in the wider community as well. Diagon Alley is seeing numerous brawls, many of them notable for feminine hair-pulling such as we started with here at Hogwarts, according to my sources.

“As a generalization I think we can postulate that greater age slows down the process some way, but again we don’t know how. Narcissa has dragged out of the dorms every type of make-up, bath salts, blusher, feminine hygiene products, mascara or other adornment that our female students use on their persons and I’ve found nothing.

“She’s also made a sweep of all the items the male students use, including some to make themselves more alluring to the girls. Someone made a killing selling the stupid prats hair oil made of common Vaseline scented with cloves, telling them it had a secret ingredient to make them irresistible.” Here Snape graced the group with a sour smile, “What it had was a dollop of marking scent from a rodent sex gland. No wonder we’ve had trouble with mice in the boys’ dorms. I do, however, admire the manufacturer for not saying on the label exactly to whom the young idiots would be irresistible - no one can argue that the maker’s claim isn’t accurate if they’re sued.”

Draco winced and silently made a note to toss out his new jar of ‘Potentate Hair Pomade – Made for the Sultan in You!’, hoping no one could detect the faint scent of cloves in his slicked down hair.

The small group of investigators gave their reports, but the information gathered merely eliminated a variety of food sources and some of the plants around the grounds; it didn’t offer up any positive avenues for analysis. Luna’s report, that the added exercise did have a lowering effect on student animosity as measured by physical means, was the one truly conclusive feature of the meeting. She was fairly certain a shock to the mind from physical pain or a heightened heart rate or increased blood pressure were the three main modifiers of the students’ belligerent behaviors, any of which would work to diminish bad compulsions. Unfortunately, there was still no glimmer of what was causing the bad behavior. Glumly, everyone separated, going to their own quarters to get dressed for the ball.

Hermione and Lucius walked down the main hallway away from Draco’s classroom, taking the moving stairs upward toward their own tower apartment. Lucius reached over and captured Hermione’s hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. At her questioning look, he shrugged, “Sometimes the stairs move unexpectedly. I don’t want you going over the side.” A twinkle appeared in his icy eyes and he squeezed her hand, but didn’t let go. The couple smiled at each other in mutual charity for the moment and a comfortable silence accompanied them to their front door.

Inside their apartment, Lucius drew Hermione over to the sofa and sat down with her. “I’m giving you the warning you wanted from me. Tonight after the Yule Ball is over, I’m going to teach you to accept another form of lovemaking. We’ve had weeks of comfortable consummations, but I want more. It’s time to add anal sex play in our bedroom. I’ll introduce it so you aren’t too uncomfortable, but I won’t lie – the first time or so, you aren’t going to find it much fun. If you could truly relax, it wouldn’t hurt – I’ve prepared you numerous times with my fingers. However, it’s likely you’ll still freeze up a little and cause yourself some unnecessary discomfort until you become accustomed and less frightened, but this is not something I’m willing to forgo. I won’t apologize for my preferences.”

“But why?” Hermione cried.

“Do you need more reason than because I enjoy it?” he asked, mapping her scowl with his arctic gaze. “Perhaps you will come to like it, too. I think I needn’t point out that you’ve become quite fond of every other sexual experience we’ve engaged in thus far.” Lucius let Hermione’s hand go when she tugged it away from his clasp. “I don’t believe I’m asking too much to ask you to try it.”

“But this is different. It’s… it’s scary,” Hermione shivered, “and I’m worried you’ll tear me.”

“Hermione, I will bring all the patience and care we will need or want to this. I’m not a novice – and no, don’t ask, because it is not your business.” Lucius frowned at his wife’s incipient question hanging on her lips. When she huffed with her balked curiosity, his face lightened into a gentle smile.

“I think you will be just as amazing at this as you are at everything else you try,” he said, throwing out the flattery in an attempt to forestall further useless discussion. It was going to happen and she needed to come to terms with the fact that her husband would never be satisfied with a narrow range of sexual practices.

Hermione eyed her crafty spouse with an expression of disbelief. She scoffed, “Nice try, but that sounds like blond blarney. I’m thinking this is some kind of power play wrapped up in kinky sex.”

Lucius laughed and shook his head. “Truly, it’s not. Do you imagine I need that anal position to assert my authority in our marriage?”

He cocked his head, gazing at her steadily until she finally replied in a small voice, “No.” Then she shrugged, “You just like it?”

“Very much. I like it because it’s extremely tight and gives me intense pleasure. I can’t believe you didn’t research this type of sex play from the moment months ago when I said it was in your future.” One blond eyebrow rose up and this time Lucius turned his own disbelieving eyes on her.

Hermione flushed, then shrugged in irritation, “Well, yes, of course I did. It sounded nasty and I was hoping you’d forget about it.”

“I admit it’s more for me than for you,” Lucius said, taking her unresisting hand in his again, “but you are rarely asked to please me in the bedroom without getting reciprocal attention. Often you get quite a bit more than I do just because I do like sex and I receive pleasure from giving you multiple climaxes in multiple ways.”

“Don’t you like what we’ve been enjoying? I like the snuggling and cuddling and petting.” Hermione rubbed her thumb on the back of Lucius’ hand as she spoke.

“I like it, too, and we’ll do it again, but that is only one type of lovemaking and I need the variety. If I don’t get it at home, please understand I won’t go elsewhere, but I will be unhappy.” Lucius was laying out his desires so his wife could understand he wasn’t asking lightly.

Hermione’s face crumpled - then his words caught up with her. The little witch relaxed when she understood this man was promising fidelity even if she couldn’t totally oblige his sexual needs. “I guess I didn’t quite understand the importance.” She sighed, “Alright. I’m scared, but alright.” Then she blurted, “Did you do this with Narcissa?”

Lucius stiffened for a moment, then he sighed, too. “I was married to her for over twenty years. What do you think?”

Hermione decided she wasn’t going to be put in the shade by Lucius’ ex and her spine straightened.

Lucius mentally kicked himself for not using that ploy at the beginning of his discussion. Hermione felt herself to be more matched as a couple with him now, but her quest to do better than her predecessor would be useful for a few years to come. Lucius smiled as he pulled his sprite up from the sofa so they could have a quick meal and dress for the ball.


tbc...

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I hope your thirst was quenched with that overdose of lemonade. Next chapter we'll be attending the Yule Ball. Dust off your dancing slippers. Maybe you can get a dance with Lucius - or Severus...or Draco (please, no shoving), or Neville. It never hurts to ask. Of course, Hermione and Luna and Narcissa will attend also. Formal gowns and tuxes are de rigeur.


Don’t forget this chapter’s pics and responses -

http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/65787.html
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