The Wedding - COMPLETE

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Updated 6-20-07

Thank you for your reviews, Lucius lovers. I wish I could hold an auction with one night with Lucius as a prize, but knowing me I'd just rig it so I would win, so what's the use?

Congratulations to Jenn on her graduation. Way to go!

For those who have asked, YES, I do have another story in the works. It should make its maiden appearance starting near the end of June or the first day or so of July 2007.


I hope after the darkness Lucius had to experience, you will enjoy the brighter day dawning for Hermione and him and Chloe.

This is the penultimate chapter (one more to go after this one).


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Chapter Forty-Three

Precious

Hermione slipped into the water of the tub and floated over to sit by her wizard. She poured a bit of shampoo into her hand and began sudsing up Lucius’ hair, as he closed his eyes and held still for her. “Lucius, you’re going to need a cauldronful of conditioner to fix your hair. What did you wash it with, lye?” She massaged his scalp tenderly, and gently combed his pale tresses through her fingers before massaging some more. “Lucius, we need to talk.”

Lucius had been around long enough to know that phrase always meant the woman needed to talk and he would be obliged to provide uncomfortable responses. But he knew basically what was coming and he agreed with his spouse. It was time. He rinsed out his hair and sat quietly, giving her his attention.

She began, “I’m your wife in all the legal ways. And I do know I’m more than an occasionally useful ‘knothole’. You’ve long since released me from being your submissive. But I’m more than that.” Hermione paraphrased his words of a year before to him. “I want to belong to you outside your bedroom as well as in it. I’m a woman, I’m your wife and now I need to be your love, and I’m not using that word lightly. I need to be your love - but as a woman defines it. Romance, candlelight, roses, giggles under the sheets, holding hands at a Quidditch match, keeping you company while you try to repair an old cistern."

Lucius luxuriated in the attention to his hair and continued to sit still as she massaged conditioner into his locks, but he dared to ask, “What exactly am I to you, Hermione?” He didn’t want to add anything more to his question. He wanted her to come at the question from wherever she thought it important.

Her heart spoke for her, “I know you don’t want a glib answer. I hope for a lot of things from you as my husband. I want to have a good marriage, I want some babies, I want us to be happy together and trust each other and depend on each other.” She bit her lip, “I want you to keep me as your only bedmate and if I need to learn a few new sex techniques to keep you, I want you to teach me so you’re never unhappy or unsatisfied in our bedroom. I guess I want to be called precious all the time like you’ve been doing lately, not just when you’re in the throes of passion. I want us to laugh and argue and help each other with the mundane annoyances in our lives.”

Lucius turned to look at her and pressed, “You’re telling me all this for a special reason, I think. Why?”

Hermione was scared but she refused to stop herself another minute from baring her soul to the man she was so terribly in love with. “I suppose you want me to lay it out for you?”

“Unless you can tell me how to find a snitch in a fogbank. I’d rather know that. Ow!” Lucius got a vicious yank on his hair for what Hermione saw as his flippant cowardice. Damn, he thought irritably, he was going to be bald soon if she couldn’t accept his sense of humor. Hadn't she figured out yet that his offbeat jokes surfaced when he was nervous?

Hermione challenged, “Do you want to know or are you going to keep hiding from us? I’m tired of submerging my feelings. I was tired of it after our first night together, but you were nowhere near ready to open up any part of yourself to me.” Hermione met Lucius’ eyes stare for stare. Foggy gray against warm brown. Hermione held her breath, then took the plunge. “I’m in love with you, Lucius. The forever kind.”

Lucius pursed his lips, contemplating her avowal in silence for a few moments, then he gently replied, “Let me tell you a story.” He ignored Hermione’s strangled sound of frustration, “Years ago, Draco came home constantly complaining about a Mudblood who consistently beat him in his classes. I vaguely remembered a little brown-haired girl from Flourish and Blott’s who frowned ferociously at me and had no respect for her betters.” When Hermione started to huff indignantly, Lucius drew her onto his lap, looked stern for a moment until she quieted, and then he continued, “As time went on and her intelligence became local legend, I decided I wanted to get to know her and perhaps take her for my mistress.”

Hermione hissed her displeasure at that, but Lucius persevered, “She was very beautiful to me. I thought she would be someone who could match my interests and abilities on more than merely the sexual plane and I hoped rather strongly I would be able to find a way to connect with her, especially after I was freed from my disastrous marriage. But Azkaban intervened.

“Then one day just at the nadir of my miserable life, something terrible and wonderful happened. I was told I had to marry this lovely young woman or be sent back to Azkaban. I blustered, of course, but that was perhaps the happiest day of my life, until Chloe was born. The woman I wanted somehow in my life was actually going accept me as her husband. I went through a superficial caricature of a marriage, hoping that when the furor died down, I could live with her in quiet harmony with shared interests, and we could find contentment and even learn to love each other. And then – she ignored me. I was made to feel as though I were nothing to her - an embarrassment, an inconvenience, unattractive, and worst of all OLD.”

“Never,” she whispered.

“And then one day, I was in the main hallway and my wife walked past me, smelling of sunshine and flowers and her own magical scent. I couldn’t stand it another minute. This was ‘Saint Hermione’ whom I worshiped already and I was nothing more than dirt beneath her feet. I thought she was probably seeing someone outside the estate. I was going crazy watching her, wanting her, wishing she would even notice me. Me! The damned Golden Stud! Here was the one woman I had daydreamed about, longed for, had been given in marriage. Both my ego and libido were in tatters, I was nearly out of my mind with sexual deprivation, and you walked by me, not acknowledging me that one last time. I was so in love with you by then - and I was nothing to you. I grabbed your arm and you know the rest.”

“And Arthur knew,” Hermione whispered, shocked.

“What?” Lucius looked confused at the apparent nonsequitor.

“Arthur knew. He knew we each wanted the other. How could he know so much?”

“You wanted me? Before we were married?” Now Lucius was shocked. “I know you said you had noticed me – that I was hard to ignore when we were married and you were living in the mansion. But before we were married? You looked like you’d swallowed an entire lemon when Arthur introduced us to each other as future spouses.”

Hermione chuckled, “Lucius, my darling, so did you!”

“How long before?” Lucius persisted. “How long did you want me before we married?”

“Remember Flourish and Blott’s when I was little and we met for the first time?”

Lucius looked skeptical, “Yes?”

“It took me years to understand why I was so antagonistic toward you. You made me feel so unsettled, so antsy and bellicose. I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin around you.” Hermione caressed Lucius’ cheek with her hand. “When I was in my fifth year at Hogwarts the light dawned. I wasn’t angry at you, I was intensely attracted.” She grimaced, “I was attracted to Draco’s father. Desperately attracted, and to a married man.

"I stayed as far away from you as I could, but I heard a whole panoply of stories about you and other women. The Golden Stud was a major womanizer and I was just another stupid fool wanting him anyway. That want never went away. It was there the day I married you, it’s still there today, and it will be there until the day I die. Do you think we can get out of the water? I’m starting to get pruney looking.”

Lucius laughed and rinsed himself off, emptied the water, and got out of the spa. He helped Hermione up and they dried each other in fluffy towels, using their wands to quickly dry each other’s hair. Husband and wife returned to their bedroom and got on the bed, both leaning against the headboard naked to continue the clearing of the air in their marriage. Their revelations to each other were monumental, but in a very basic way both felt as if they’d really known the truth all the time. It had always been there between them, unacknowledged perhaps, but recognized all the same. Their hands came together, fingers entwined as they continued to speak their innermost feelings.

Lucius said, “I need to apologize. I did need to retain dominion in my bedroom but I also was a little hard on you in retaliation for thinking you only valued me for my cock.”

Hermione just kissed him and said, “If you’re talking about the spanking and domineering sex, you must know by now I rather like it.” But she needed to know, “Lucius, have you called all your conquests ‘precious?”

Now Lucius started to laugh again, “I never called any of my tens of thousands of conquests ‘precious’." He dodged Hermione’s sharp elbow with the ease of long practice. "I’ve called you ‘precious’ in my head for all the years I’ve wanted you. Finally, I got to say it to you. And I’ve loved saying it every time.” He slyly asked, “Why did you start calling me ‘my love’?”

Hermione looked at him like he was a pea-brained mountain troll, “Because you are. What an incredibly stupid question.”

Lucius knew the answer but he’d wanted her to say it out loud again. “Yes - I really am.” He yanked her down from the headboard, rolled over onto her and pulled her under him in one quick move, tickling her until she breathlessly squealed for him to stop.

He began to kiss her, but she wiggled away and slid off the side of the bed. “Oh, no you don’t. I’ve been waiting months for this. It’s my turn now.” She smiled sweetly but her eyes said diabolical. “Down to the end of the bed, please. I have some hooks to fill.”

Lucius’ eyes snapped to the ceiling and saw two sturdy hooks embedded there at the foot of their bed. He slid off the other side, “No, absolutely not. I told you that you would be dangling from any hooks before I would.” He wanted sex, not bondage. His wife had told him she actually was in love with him and he wanted to celebrate it with her in bed, not swinging from a pair of hooks. Her face was obdurate and his was cantankerous as they faced off on opposite sides of the bed. Lucius coaxed, “Precious, I want to make love to you right now. You said you were in love with me. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Oh, excellent try, Malfoy. We’re acknowledged lovers for ten minutes and you’re attempting to use it as leverage for getting your own way. It’s a good thing I’m just as self-willed as you are. Really, my love, you are such a con artist. Hurry up. I have a paddle to warm on your backside.”

“You got out one of my paddles? Just what are you doing going through my drawers, if I may ask? I never went through yours.” Lucius riposted virtuously, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d conveniently forgotten his theft of her iPod.

“Which reminds me,” Hermione said, “I found several curious contraptions and I’m not sure of their functions. You can explain them to me later. The paddles I figured out on my own. Move your arse, I’m getting cold here.”

“Be reasonable, precious. Can’t we discuss this in a civilized fashion?” Lucius couldn’t believe he was weakening before his wife did. Damn, he must really be desperately in love to allow her to have control in his bedroom. He blinked at that thought. He was desperately in love with her and if he allowed her this latitude, he was finally able to commit all of himself to her. Swinging from the hooks actually meant he was completely free to love her. Lucius gave her a blinding smile and said, “Me first. You next. Deal?”

He would never quite be able to be anyone’s doormat no matter how much in love he was. He was a leader, not a follower and Hermione recognized the best deal she was likely to wring from her handsome despot. “Deal!” she said and went over to the drawer to get the paddle she had her eye on.

Lucius went to stand under the hooks and Hermione soon strung him up facing the bed, then stood back to view her handiwork. “Lovely,” she said. “You have the most glorious bottom.”

Lucius just looked over his shoulder at her with sham long-suffering ennui and then amused himself by swinging on the hooks. He was having a great time but it wouldn’t do to telegraph that too early, although Excaliber was silently announcing it to anyone with eyes anyway. When he saw the paddle she’d chosen, he jerked to attention.

“Dammit, Granger, what the hell happened to that paddle? Is it a paddle? It looks like it got devoured by an oven mitt.” He glowered at her. “If you’ve fouled up my expensive equipment, I’m going to be extremely irked. Ex-treme-ly! What the fuck? Does it have LACE on the edge?”

“Oh, put a sock in it, muscle-butt. Actually the socks went on all your quirts.” She giggled at his look of outrage. “Calm down. I haven’t touched any of your toys – beyond trying to identify them with the books in the mansion library. We need a few good books on sex toys, by the way.” Hermione began petting his butt with the mitt, “I wanted to be the one to spank you for a change, but I just couldn’t face using a bare paddle. I’m too squeamish about hurting you, I guess. So, I made this one with quilting on it. It’s mine. And I can have lace on it if I want. I think it’s pretty.”

Hermione was happily enjoying the view of her naked husband when she saw Lucius roll his eyes in disgust at the girlie swatter, and then he irritated her some more when he drawled, “Can we just get on with -” Hermione hauled back and smacked his bum hard with the mitt. Maybe she wasn’t so squeamish as she thought.

“Ow! What do you have in that mitt? One of my gold plates?”

“No, just a frying pan. Not even an iron one. Don’t be a wimp. I know it’s a thick quilt so it won’t even leave marks - much.” Hermione smacked him again, “Like it? I can see Excaliber does” Hermione smacked him several more times and he started moaning, but in a good way. His butt began to turn all rosy with the swats she was administering even with the bit of padding.

Actually Hermione wasn’t the only one who had a lacy, quilted paddle. Ginny had been over at Hermione’s many times while Lucius was gone, trying to give moral support and also to get pointers on how to care for a newborn since she was now pregnant too, the Christmas wine having wrought more than a couple of hangovers, and the two had had a lot of time to talk. They had sewn their padded paddles and indulged in companionable conversation while Chloe had napped.

When Hermione first found out Ginny was pregnant, she had remarked that their Slytherin men had both scored in the fertility stakes the first time without contraceptives, and that was just a little scary and maybe Arthur knew something they didn’t about the dangerous potential for repopulating the magic world with Death Eaters.

Ginny’s early news had been more entertaining – she had blatted that when she’d announced to Severus her intention of tying him to their hooks, she’d been agreeably surprised by his approving consent, even if it had been given just a touch too majestically.

Hermione now also knew that Ginny was apparently much more bloodthirsty than she could be with her still too-malnourished husband, because Ginny had already reported a resounding success with her paddle, stringing up her husband and making Severus so wildly out of control he’d spewed his cum all over her lovely scarlet bedspread. Luckily, she’d cleaned the bedspread right up with her wand before stains could set in, because when she let Severus down off the hooks he had immediately sat his reddened bum down on the coverlet, yanked his wife to a kneeling position between his legs and got payback with a lengthy blowjob that Ginny complained still made her jaw ache a little. But she had grinned with a total lack of repentance at Hermione and said she was going to do it again soon.


“But next time,” Ginny said, “I’m not going to let Sevvie direct me on how many swats, how hard, how close together. He was strung up but he was still in control. I’m sure that’s not right.” Both women giggled, but were somewhat concerned that one of their gossipy husbands would mention the unusual devices and realize both households had been invaded with, as Hermione comically called them, the ‘peter pans’ since the pans definitely affected their husbands’ ‘peters’.


Hermione’s husband definitely had a kinky streak and she was happy to exploit it for him, especially since spanking him was making her extremely horny herself and what she really wanted was to suck that stiff sword waving so wildly with each smack. So she did.

Lucius opened his eyes when the blows stopped and he saw his wife get up on the bed and crawl slinkily down toward him, grabbing his staff and putting it right in her mouth. She sucked as much of it down her throat as she was physically able, using the other hand to jiggle and stroke his sac. Oh, sweet Hecate, Lucius thought, panting in shackled ecstasy, he was getting the blowjob of his life, his bum smarted, and his wife loved him. This was heaven.

His hips began an involuntary tilting that he couldn’t subdue, as if Excaliber wanted to be swallowed whole, and Lucius started breathing erratically, pulling against the loops with his newly lean, sharply defined, muscled arms and shoulders while promising his witch-wife all kinds of horrible erotic retribution for taking advantage of him while he was helpless.

All the little temptress said was, “Yes, please, I want all of that,” and went back to sucking the life out of him as she lay prone on the bed, facing his strung-up body at the foot. In no time at all, Lucius lost control and begged Hermione to slow down, but it was too late.

She could feel in his balls that he was going over the edge and she kept her rhythm steady, making his overburdened cock go off like fireworks on Guy Fawkes Night. The roar of his release was reminiscent of a Hungarian Horntail in heat and Hermione stilled in her swallowing, listening to see if he’d awakened Chloe. Her poor wizard suddenly went limp and hung in the loops for a few seconds, only half aware of anything outside the shudders rippling through his nervous system.

Hermione loosened the loops and used her wand to catch him as he slid toward the rug. She waved his tired body onto the bed and tucked him in, then tidied up the bedroom before slipping into bed with him. She was going to make it her goal to beef her mate back up to his normal weight as soon as possible. He looked so terribly thin to her. And his stamina wasn’t yet back up to par.

Lucius was incredibly relaxed and sated, deciding his little fireball could quilt all his paddles if she wanted. The poor sod was also out of practice and wasn’t paying much attention, which was why his precious sneaked past his defenses, “Nooo! Granger, don’t - SHITE THEY’RE COLD! ” Lucius was too weakened to protect himself.

“Too late!” Hermione crowed. “Oooh, that feels so good on my feet. You have the warmest crotch.”

“Merlin’s balls, can’t you wear socks like normal people? I guess I’m back to dodging your icy feet in bed until I get you pregnant again.” As his wife’s little feet warmed up in his much-abused groin, Lucius sighed, resigned to a fact of married life that wasn’t probably going to change for a hundred years. He fell asleep happily contemplating a hundred years of vibrators and quilted lace paddles, Hermione warmly tucked under him every night.

In the following days, Lucius worked dedicatedly at his finances in the mornings, pulling in millions for the Ministry treasury, so he could free up his afternoons and evenings to be with his family. He’d hoped his spare frame and gaunt looks in general would excuse him from nappy duty, but apparently Hermione couldn’t seem to comprehend that he was at death’s door and had tried to make him learn all about both ends of his daughter, but Lucius wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing and consistently managed very adroitly to evade his daughter’s south end.

The weakened wizard’s artistic coughing got him a reprieve of doing bathtime instead, and he had thought himself very clever until he got drenched from his baby’s happy paddling in the small sink in her bathroom and he grinned ruefully, discovering his brilliant scheme had backfired. But all in all, he was diving into fatherhood like a merman takes to water and his only sorrow was having missed all this with Draco.


Meanwhile, Lucius was spending some time at the Grangers’ tinkering with the Muggle number cruncher . Hermione’s father had shown Lucius their computer at Christmas and Lucius was still fascinated by Mr. Granger’s software programs for his finances. Hermione figured it would only be a matter of time before Lucius had studied all the software programs available for money. The only thing saving England was the lack of financial software support for Galleons, Sickles and Knuts.


The blond wizard also rediscovered his iPod and with the help of Hermione’s father, had figured a way to have the music play in the privacy of their bedroom through a set of speakers Mr. Granger had bought for Lucius. Actually Mr. Granger had had to purchase six sets of speakers, five of which Lucius fried before he learned how to draw just the right amount of latent electricity into them, but that was a small secret that stayed between Mr. Granger and his son-in-law.


All Hermione was privy to, was an abundance of mood music as her husband played different songs while they made love. She understood more than ever that her husband was a very emotional, visceral man and now those emotions were being channeled in a positive direction. Depending on the music Lucius chose, Hermione had a good idea of the type of lovemaking she was in for.


Her favorites for dancing the horizontal mambo in bed were the catchy tunes where she and Lucius kept time to the music in the missionary position, which Hermione loved as she got to see her husband’s face. (This was not always the case, as Snape’s numbing ointment was getting steadily depleted also.) Lucius liked to emphasize each line of the more buoyant songs with deep thrusts into his wife’s welcoming sheath, withdrawing through the rest of the line for the next lunge and acting as an uninhibited carnal music conductor with his own special conductor’s wand.


They both were laughing so hard, sometimes Lucius accidentally slipped out of his wife and had to re-imbed himself, but they both exuberantly tried to sing the lyrics as they gasped and moaned from the delicious, intimate friction of their bodies. Lucius always looped the songs, so they replayed over and over as the lovers grinned in sheer happiness with each other before ultimately ignoring the music toward the end of their lovemaking, as their arousals finally pitched them into the overwhelming ecstasy of orgasm.


Last chapter coming soon...
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