Sins of the Father

Title: Sins of the Father
Rating: NC-17, eventually
Pairing: LM/HG
Author: lucretziathevagabond


Hermione stepped put of her shower and into the steamy bathroom. The flat was quiet, the first time it had been so in a week. Lucius refused to watch the television, claiming it was pointless, so Merlin only knew what he was up to. Pulling on her usual nightwear of a tank top and shorts, she made her way into the living room where Lucius was sitting, illuminated only by the flicker of firelight.

He was sitting in the high backed chair she had come to think of as “his”chair. A glass of brandy sat on the side table, and she could see him rolling a vial of the new potion in his hand. As she approached him, he started, nearly dropping the vial.

“Is that the new potion?” she asked. He nodded, and set it on the side table. Looking at her carefully, he asked in a very conversational way, “Miss Granger, could you tell me why you are doing this?

She blinked. She had been waiting for him to ask the question for some time; and the truth was, she didn’t exactly know why she was turning her life upside down for a man who seemed to barely tolerate her existence most days.

“Do I need a reason?” she answered.

“Everyone does things for a reason. I was merely wondering what you intend to get out of it. You have taken time off from work, denied yourself a social life, and have spent hours caring for me. Yet, I can detect no discernable reason for you to do so. You’re not being paid, Severus is not being asked to influence anyone for your benefit. Why would you give up so much for no material advantage?”

She was immediately annoyed, but then leaned back in her chair to think about the question. How sad that Malfoy lived a life where he was forced to constantly second guess people’s motives. She finally shrugged.

“I did it because it was the right thing to do. Not for one second do I think you would have done the same for me, but this wasn’t…isn’t, she corrected herself, about settling a score or saving up favors. You needed help; I was able to help. That’s it.”

“Is this altruism a common muggle trait?”

“I think it is, yes. Somewhere in our value system, we believe that people deserve a chance.”

“Fascinating.” He sipped his brandy, regarding her over his glass.

“I take it that you don’t have much experience with people doing things for no reason.”

“You are only the second person I have ever met to do so.”

“Who was the first?” She blurted out the question without thinking. He didn’t react; his mind was miles away.

He looked into the fire, then at his glass. The firelight glinted off of the crystal, refracting the light and creating tiny prisms. When he spoke again, his voice was rough with emotion.

“Her name was Alice. She was the woman who was found with me when the muggle healers arrived. A bunch of young men beat her to death in front of me. She had hidden me away so they couldn’t find me; they intended to rob me, I think. I have replayed the scene over and over in my mind, and yet can find no satisfaction. She didn’t know me, and was desperately poor. Her entire life was in a cart that she pushed around. Why would she give her life for someone she didn’t know? It would have been a simple thing to give away my location. She was a muggle, I could detect no magical ability in her, but she somehow knew that I was not like her. Despite that, she protected me. I don’t understand why.“

Hermione tried to fight back tears.

“Now you come along and do the same thing. You marched into a hospital, impersonated a doctor and dragged me out half dead from my sickbed. You then have cared for me without complaint, without a shred of personal interest. My own family wouldn’t care for me, and yet a woman who I stood passively by and allowed to be tortured under my own roof during the war showed me compassion.”

“Perhaps this is your second chance.”

“To right my wrongs?”

“To become more than a powerful wizard. Perhaps you are being given a chance to become a better man and a better father.”

He nodded, and then was quiet. Minutes passed, and then he smiled.

“Severus has always said that you could never sit for more than a few minutes without asking a question. I suppose I will need to tell him that you have learned to restrain yourself.”

She smiled and removed a book from the side table. Just as she opened it, he spoke again.

“Miss Granger, would you indulge me a few questions? I find myself rather interested in you at present. Would you tell me a bit about yourself? Not the normal nonsense about house affiliation or who your parents are. Tell me three things about you that are not commonly known. They don’t have to be secrets, just things that the world at large is not aware of.”

“I will if you will.”

“Of course.” He stretched his legs and regarded her, smiling at the fact that she was once again wearing a top with no apparent undergarments, if the pebbling under her sleeveless top was any indication. He lifted his glass in question.

“No thank you. Let me make some coffee, and then I’m all yours.”

His gaze grew hungry as he watched her unconsciously sway as she went into the kitchen. Moments later the whirr of the grinder echoed through the room. A click sounded and music began to play. He looked around, and saw her holding a small bar with buttons on it.

“I hope you don’t mind the music. This artist is a man by the name of Amos Lee.”

“What kind of music is this?”

“It’s technically folk, but you could also call it a bit of blues as well. The song Black River is my favorite. Many bands have versions of it, but I like his the best.”

She poured two cups of the fragrant liquid and carried them into the living room, handing one to the blonde man. Reaching over she slipped the brandy glass out from between his fingers.

“Although any number of university students may disagree with me, alcohol is in fact not one of the food groups.”

“And coffee is?”

“I put cream in mine. As far as I am concerned, this is dairy.”

“And by your own reasoning, my brandy is fruit, one of the accepted food groups.” His eyes locked on the neckline of her top as she bent over to put the brandy glass on the table. Rising, he took her arm as he joined her on the sofa. Dear god, did she mean to torture him? It had been ages since he had a woman who was so soft and by wizarding standards she was practically naked. He forced himself to look away.

“All right, now that we are sure to be awake the entire night, due to your preference for caffeine instead of an excellent brandy, you may as well answer my question.”

“Let’s see.” She looked around the room and sighed. “Well, I play guitar.”

“Really?” He looked skeptical, glancing down at her hands. Reaching for one, he rubbed a finger along hers. He could feel the slight calluses now along her slim digits, a result of her hobby.

“My father taught me to play guitar when I was nine. I didn’t play at all when I was at Hogwarts except during holidays. I play more now, just for fun. I’m not really that good, but I’m improving.”

She moved closer to him, captivated by the scent. It was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Sandalwood and spices. Tobacco and leather. She stopped herself from climbing into his lap and burying her nose in his neck. Barely.

“Now, it’s your turn. What’s your secret?” Hermione moved away to the other end of the sofa, stretching her legs out so her toes brushed his trouser leg. He reached over and tugged on her legs, pulling her forward so her feet were now on his lap. Reaching for a pillow, she put it under her head and smiled as his hands began to caress her instep. She giggled as he examined her painted toes.

“I have never met a woman who pays as much attention to such odd details. Your hair is a mess, yet you have beautifully cared for feet. Your clothes are a disaster by any measurable standard, yet you have some of the softest skin I have ever felt. I assume that removing the hair on your legs and applying paint to your toes are muggle habits.”

She nodded. “Don’t magical women do those things? My friend Luna does; my housemates at Hogwarts did as far as I can remember.”

“Perhaps it is more of a generational difference. In the society I live in, women are clad from ankle to neck most of the time. Even during more…intimate moments, women wear more clothes than you have on right now. Touching each other is not something done casually.”

“My friends and I touch each other all the time. We kiss each other in greeting, hold hands when we walk down the street and even have slept in the same bed platonically.”

“That would not happen in society circles. First and foremost, good breeding is about control and distance. If you will pardon the comparison, the Weasleys are a prime example of what not to do. They are far too emotional, they had far too many children to be able to teach proper etiquette to, and teach their children to value mediocrity. That their children are happy is enough; there seems to be no need to strive for greatness, there is no debt to the future.”

“So how does a proper pureblood show control and distance?” He shook his head.

“Not pureblood. The Weasleys are purebloods and behave abominally. This is about a culture, not a bloodline. A muggleborn can find a place in high society now, but they have to be willing to assimilate to our customs. The old adage about knowing the rules in order to be able to break them is quite true. You asked about physical contact. In my worldview, touching a woman is about either flirtation or dominance.”

“You’re touching me right now. Are you flirting or trying to dominate me?” He smiled wickedly.

“I am both adapting to your culture’s belief in touch as an acceptable behavior and indulging in the ability to run my hands over such expanses of soft, bare skin. I am more than willing to demonstrate my ability to be dominant to you if you but ask.” His hands moved up her leg to her calf. She sighed in contentment, as his scent wafted to her nose, and inhaled deeply. Trying to get back to the focus of their original conversation, she struggled to speak.

“So what is the first thing that not many people know about you?” He stopped, and leaned back to think. She wiggled her toes to get his attention and inadvertently brushed the area between his thighs. She inhaled sharply at the firmness; clearly he was being quite affected by this conversation or by her nearness. He grinned at her discomfort.

“Miss Granger, if you continue to move like that, I can guarantee that I will not behave like a gentleman. I will of course guarantee that you will enjoy the experience.”

“Are you sure that you would be able to do so? I have very high standards.” He snorted.

“If you have high standards, you must be constantly disappointed. For all of the Weasley’s ability to reproduce, they seem to lack the focus that is required to worship a woman the way she should be. On the other hand, I have a great deal of experience in studying women’s bodies. There is no question that I would be able to satisfy you.”

“Back to the original question…” she hissed as je ran his fingernails lightly down her calves.

“What was the original question? Ah yes…let me see. I suppose it is not commonly known that I have long wanted to lecture at a formal school. Not just as a tutor as I do now, but at a proper school like Hogwarts.”

“What would you teach?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts of course, or else Transfiguration. Really, I would like to teach some sort of fine arts class. It would marry what I teach now with an appreciation for refinement.”

“Sounds like a class I would take.”

“ I could teach you”, he whispered. “I could teach you so many things.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her knee, smiling as she blushed.

“It is so rare to find a woman who is still able to blush. I find myself striving to find things to make you do so. Now, what is your second thing that few know about you?”

“I have a tattoo.” The words came out in a rush as Lucius’ hands ghosted across her inner thighs. He stopped, meeting her eyes with humor.

“Where? I want to see it.” She shook her head, and he sighed.

“Of course, if you deny me then I will be forced to find it myself. My hands and body will be forced to touch every part of you until I find it. It may take a while of course. Hours, at least. Perhaps I should get comfortable.”

He stood and removed his oxford, then his undershirt. Bare from the waist up, he reached for his belt buckle. He locked eyes with her as he unfastened it and allowed his trousers to fall to the floor. Stepping out of them, he approached the sofa once again.

“Now, we are in similar states of undress, are we not? I would like your answer please: will you show me that bit of ink, or will I need to search for it? I assure you, either choice will give me great pleasure.” He reached over and picked her up and carried her to his bed, stopping to grab the potion on the way. She narrowed her eyes at him, he had clearly regained much of his previous strength. A glance at his black boxers sent a flush down her body and she felt something ignite within her.

He crawled onto the bed and hissed in her ear. “I can feel your magic, witch. The air is buzzing with your power, and I can feel mine reaching out to touch yours. You need me to bring you into your power, and I will gladly help you find it. Allow yourself to indulge in the pleasure I offer you.”

She didn’t answer, but allowed herself to reach for him. At first, her fingers glided down his chest, but then an idea struck her. She reached for his shoulders, then dragged her fingernails down his chest, leaving red marks in her wake. He moaned and lunged for her. Moments later, he was holding both her wrists in one hand, pinning her to the bed.

“Naughty little lion cub, playing with your claws” he taunted. She struggled, but not hard as she felt the friction rub deliciously against his body. He positioned her legs on either side of him.

“Where is it, my little lioness?” He nipped under her ribcage, making her squeal. Chuckling at her reaction, he continued his torment, placing small bites down her flank. Her body responded with a rush of warmth through her.

“My…left side” she choked out, the magic buzzing in the air making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it was the feeling of that cornsilk hair whispering across her oversensitized skin. Either way, she gasped as he lowered one side of her shorts, then pulled them off leaving her in nothing but her tank top and a tiny pair of knickers she had slipped on in a fit of daring after her shower.

“You were holding out on me witch. I thought you were bare under those shorts; although this little garment barely qualifies as clothing.” He rubbed across her cleft, smiling at finding her knickers sodden. He slid them off gently, leaving her naked from the waist down and nearly shaking with need.

He looked at her tattoo and laughed. “Is that a serpent, little witch?”

“It’s a book, a quill and what was supposed to be a worm. Bookworm, you know? But the tattoo artist talked me into a serpent, saying that they represented knowledge.”

The serpent lifted its head and preened under the wizard’s regard. Slithering off of the book, it twisted and turned as it inched its way toward her belly button. Lucius ran a fingernail across her skin and the serpent followed it, the book opening up and the quill beginning to move as it wrote. She giggled at the sensation, nodding at his question about whether she could feel them move.

He placed his hand over her belly and licked the tattoo, causing her to cry out. He did it again, causing the serpent to squirm and roll as it followed the path Lucius set for it.

“My mark on your skin,” he muttered.

“It’s not your mark, it’s just a serpent” she said, blushing as he growled.

“Then I shall have to leave my own.” He seemed to feel something under his hand and pulled back the cotton of her top to reveal a small ring with a dangling ruby.

“Hidden treasure. Extraordinary”, he muttered sliding the tip of his tongue in the ring and lifting it gently.

“It’s a belly ring. I got it last year after I lost some weight. My belly isn’t flat, but I got it anyway.” She blushed as she heard him growl softly, running the flat of his palm across her tummy, as though he was caressing a woman with child.

“Delicious. You’ve been holding out, witch. I shall have to remove this atrocity of a top and make sure you haven’t hidden anything else from me.” Releasing her hands, he slid the top off and she felt his body respond to her the sight of her naked chest. As endowments go, she was pretty average but Lucius responded as though she were much larger, licking and nipping at her bare breasts before taking a nipple in his mouth and beginning to suckle.

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The initial sting from his teeth made her gasp, then she threw her head back as he applied suction, drawing her into him and making her cry out in pleasure. With a glance at the vial of potion on her side table, she grinned and reached for her wand, glad he hadn’t mixed the potion with the oil yet. She thought he would enjoy this far more. Raising his head, she detached him from her, gasping at the cool air of the room as it hit her sensitive breasts.

Lucius looked like he was coming out of a fog. He watched her draw the potion into her wand and then touch her breasts with a muttered incantation. She closed her eyes, feeling herself respond to the charm. It was one she had learned was often used to give medicine to nursing infants, merging milk with the medicine. One charm to make her temporarily lactate and the other to infuse the milk with the potion, and in five minutes time, she would be ready. Lucius clearly had a breast fetish, she thought he’d enjoy this.

The recognition of what she was doing crossed his face, and he whispered endearments to her as he lowered his face to the junction of her thighs . Swiping his tongue and gently using his fingers, he found her sensitive place and began to worry the area with his tongue, sliding his callused finger between her inner lips.

She cried out, both from the tingling as the strengthening potion made its way through her breasts to ready her for him and from his attention to her. She reached for him. Grabbing the hem of his boxers, she tried to pull him closer.

“Lucius please”, she begged.” She could feel her breasts growing heavier with milk and watched as he stripped off the remaining bit of fabric he was wearing and slid himself against her entrance.

Moments later, two things happened. He latched on to her breast as he pulled her onto his lap, impaling her on his thick column of flesh. The feeling was indescribable as she began to move, the two of them setting a rhythm of need and desire.

The air was thick with magic, with moans and cries and the delicious slapping of skin on skin. Hermione rode him with abandon, mindless of anything else but seeking her own pleasure, sating her own need. She could feel him deep inside her, and as the enchanted milk flowed into his mouth he could feel her deep within him as well.

She could feel the magic cycle through them, from their joined bodies to the magical milk Lucius was greedily devouring. Draining one breast, he moved to the other, latching on with a need that was startling in its intensity. She rolled her hips, and his hands gripped them firmly to drive her harder into him. She could feel his magic flare to life and work its way through his body. Pushing her onto her back, he took control, pistoning in her with such strength and power that she was sure she would split in two; yet she couldn’t get enough, the filthy words flowing from her mouth urging him on to go harder, faster and deeper. His fingers pressed bruises into her thighs as she raked her nails down his back and tangled in his hair.

Their climax was more like an explosion, both of them feeling as though they had slipped their skin and were flying naked in the stars, slipping into the ancient pools of darkness as the heat of the fire burned around them. Unknowingly, they had completed an ancient bonding ritual, one before written word and therefore conscious knowledge. As they collapsed onto the bed still intimately joined, a feeling of deep satisfaction and affection settled over them. They were one now, tied to each other in a way that no creature could tear apart.
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Yeah, okay. That is how you write sex magic-much better than the last attempt I made. The next chapter will involve the mystery; this one took on a life of its own as I typed it. Coming up next, Lucius’ secret wish, and his memory of the attack.