The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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7-5-09 Sun


Your reviews are sterling! A special shout out to our newest reviewers who added their lovely comments to those of our regulars. I'm so very glad you've joined us. I hope you'll all like this next chapter. It picks up where we left off with Lucius and Hermione still in his bedroom.


First, some answers to all your comments:


BeaBibliophile – Why have we never met, when Turkey Basters Anonymous meets right next door to Spatula Twelve Step where I’m a new member. Judge Turpin showed me a new use for that implement on a recent vacation I took with some friends. (Actually he showed them, too.) Don’t hold the Turpin literary allusion against me – It’s really just vulgar. (And so was he.) Oh dear, Rickman’s characters are stealing into Isaacs’ characters’ territory. I hope none of those scrumptious fictitious men read this.

I do see Lucius as very human, covering up his vulnerabilities with a layer of snobby distance.

HermioneandSnape – I’m so happy you are enjoying this story. I’m kind of wiggling like a puppy dog, wanting to post the next chapter, myself.

jw – They do need to talk, but while Lucius has a silver tongue and Hermione could flay the hide off a dragon with hers, neither of them is yet comfortable enough to really open up. Because of your comment about the house elves, I added a paragraph on them coming to terms with her. Thanks!! (And that’s one reason I like to post individual chapters, right there!)

VoraciousReader zeets20@hotmail.com - Hermione had a bad episode, but she’s bouncing back. Her medical help from the healers has been very effective. I do wonder if Draco isn’t very thrilled about his father’s choice of new wife, but he doesn’t figure in the story again for a long time (sorry Draco lovers, I was seduced by Snape into making him the big secondary character).

angeles – Lucius does have his sweet side…somewhere…and he’s unhappy he made Hermione suffer. Whether it was because it was bad for her or bad for him is a little fuzzy. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Consummation will come – in a while. Yeah, fireworks!

Aleysiasnape – I’m honored you loved the chapters. I like to write them arguing almost as much as the sex.

Jesse – Hermione had a bad spell with that Drawing Room, but she’s back on form. They aren’t finished with the bedroom quite yet, but those pj’s would put anyone off romance.

Kate – Hi! (waves) Happy to make your acquaintance! Don’t worry about the Taming play. I borrowed the premise more than the substance. I’m not much for a downtrodden female.

Katiekrm – Yes, I think Lucius should get a big “I” printed on his forehead for his miscalculation on that Drawing Room. He was truly an idiot there. Mudblood will fade away from his vocabulary. He doesn’t use it in her hearing even now. The big plan will unfold after a short while, but not in this chapter coming up.

blue artemis – Unfortunately Lucius thought about the Drawing Room just a little too late, but he made amends the best he could. The plan will be told pretty soon, but not just yet. Much of the story will be under the aegis of the plan later. However, we’ll still be following our characters’ interactions (plans don’t have steamy sex, people do). If you invite Lucius over and act scared, he’ll give you a terrific time. He is a natural predator esp. in the sack. And welcome to LJ!

Pittwitch – And horny feels better than hate, too LOL.

magalena – Yup, clueless Lucius. I think he was a little singleminded at the time. Well, that blew up in his face. He wound up singing lullabies instead of shagging. Pity the poor Slytherin sucker.

PutrescentQueen – Ooh, yes, the story has numerous elements – and Mr. Snape (who I haven’t had the guts to really write in any length before). Those two make a perfect couple for acidic, yet refined, mutual verbal bashing. His more mature, but still snippy attitude and her youthful defiance work well for me. I added more explanation for the pajamas farther on. Many thanks!!

Terpsichore – I don’t think Lucius was precisely “thinking” when he apparated Hermione into his home. He paid for his inattention with a night of lullabies and worry that he’d scarred her mentally. Waking up with handful of… that… would be the birthday candle wish of many of us. Yeah, what’s really too big…

Lurker – Yay, happy to have you aboard. I’m pleased to hear you like my stories and honored to hear you’re discerning. Yes, Lucius has progressed beyond one-night stands long since. I hope I earn more of your approbation! Thank you!

lonne2 – Because I soon learned that I didn’t like reading a story, then getting abandoned, I promised myself not to do that to any other readers. I’m so happy you’re a fan and I do appreciate your review immensely. Maybe reviewing is like a first kiss. Scary, but after that a lot of fun. I hope so.

Diamond-Helen – Lucius was very tired from being up much of the night singing to Hermione in his lap. He’s groggy now. But I imagine he normally sleeps a bit lighter. Being a Death Eater wouldn’t have promoted being a heavy sleeper – not for long, anyway.

distinctlyME – I do like a snarky Hermione who won’t let Lucius run roughshod over her. This story has a lot of threads to weave together. I’m obviously a fan of Lucius Malfoy as a character (of course, I’ve invented the persona I prefer so that makes sense LOL.) Smut will be along in a while. My characters never go anywhere without it. Your review is delightful and I’m selfish enough to want more whenever you feel so moved. 8-)

Sampdoria – Yeah, she has it right that they would just laugh at her worry about Lucius not fitting. It might also get into the Daily Prophet (yikes), so it’s lucky she isn’t going to complain. Lucius would have a line into the next county if those old (and young) witches discovered the size of his assets. Draco would probably be checked out, too.

Rainie – You have mighty fine fantasies and yes, those sleep pants would have to go – snicker.

T Stevenson – Obviously my idea of Lucius is more complex than merely his Death Eater duties. Those days are over in this story and he’s moved on. His life isn’t perfect, never has been, but he has a chance for something he hopes will be good with a new wife and Hermione’s antecedents will become less important pretty quickly as he tries to cope with a prickly witch with very soft, curly hair. Was Hermione unaware of Lucius’ help? This chapter has an answer. Reader ‘PutrescentQueen’ above, helped me see I needed to have a bit more answer for those pajamas. I see you want an answer, too. That’s been added. Thanks! I think there are a lot of hands wishing to measure that appendage. He’s quite tired from being up much of the night crooning to Hermione and soothing her.

Saxon saxon_d32@hotmail.com - You’re right. Lucius shouldn’t think of Hermione as a Mudblood. He doesn’t say it in front of her. He’s not that stupid (even if he did bring her to his Drawing Room). I think his mindset will slowly change. Hermione’s shivers really point up his repugnance. The man’s a troll. We all know it (cough, cough). It might take Snape to do some of that ‘smacking upside Lucius’ head’ to make the elegant blond see more clearly. Hmm, Hermione may have got a bit of payback for her unwelcome marriage in that blow to his head. Good point. I’m thrilled you delurked. Look what a magnificent review I got from it. I’m drunk on pleasure.

margaritama Ah, your comments are always so fascinating - from an author’s viewpoint. The characters didn’t talk much together. I see that now, but I guess they were talking so loudly to themselves I didn’t notice. Rounding out a character with narrative can be stultifying. Learning about Lucius and his many facets takes time to work in. He’s got so many sides. Not all bad, but certainly nowhere near a saint. And Hermione isn’t any sweetcheeks either. She’s essentially a good person, but she has her snippy, egoistic side. I hope the percentage of reviews ups, too, and I love that you’re writing to help my percentage, but your review quality as another author is the true gift.

meankitty69 – Ooh, I’m happy you like this Lucius. This story plays with him and Snape snarking together and shows Lucius in a softer, more vulnerable light. In some ways. In others he’s his normal sly self.

Rini – Re Draco wanting to avoid Hermione. I’m sure you’re right. Lucius screwed up taking Hermione to the main Drawing Room. He tried to make up for it, though. Lucius is hoping to never put himself and Mah Jong together, too, LOL. The math stares everyone in the face on 1-3% reviews vs. readers, but even I was surprised and I looked around at a lot of HP pairings.

Scary Bear Hair – Do you think Lucius would want Hermione to wear jammies? I think he has other plans… I’m glad Hermione’s emotions came through and that Lucius was compassionate, BUT the jury is still out on whether it was true selflessness. Lucius enjoys a good night’s sleep, but Hermione’s advent might change that. (You know, waking up at 3 AM horny, etc.) My hubby can literally drop asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow. Seconds!! Sometimes I have to hate that stinker. Although some of my scenes and dialogue come from lying there, waiting for that stupid Morpheus to notice me next to his best customer.

Pensieve Plotter – Lucius isn’t much for waving his ‘lower’ wand around indiscriminately. He got cured of that long ago. The wizarding world seems caught in an old-fashioned time warp at times. Hermione was smart to seek healer help for her mental wobbling. She might have been a much bigger mess without her learned regimen for combating her fears. I’m glad you’re enjoying the chapters!

alecto - Hi! Welcome! It always takes some time to establish who your characters are. Lucius crooning and soothing Hermione helps show he’s 1) got some sympathetic qualities and 2) he is committed to his new marriage. I liked Lucius crooning, too. 8-)

Ready for the next chapter?


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Chapter Five

First Morning Married


Hermione approached the bed once more, trying to work out how to wake the wizard without being clobbered. His head was covered by the pillow, but the rest of him was out of the covers and fair game. She ran her eyes down his large, male frame assessing just where to attack and indulged herself for a few seconds admiring the long, tall body with its broad shoulders, trim waist and narrow hips encased in those virulent pajamas.

His legs went on forever and his bare feet somehow made him rather cute and helpless although it was completely fanciful of her, attributing any softer side to him. She ruefully recognized that she shouldn’t be romanticizing the former Death Eater. He was more rattlesnake than bunny rabbit. Oh Gods, her mind was back on that fleshy python in his pajamas. At that propitious moment her stomach gurgled loudly and her priorities straightened up again.

Hermione checked where his hands were (under the pillow) and made her plan – a fast, hard swat on his butt and she would jump back and hope he woke up. Butt was better than head, she was sure. If that didn’t work, she was seriously thinking of that bludger.

Before she lost her nerve Hermione stepped up to his side of the bed, lifted her arm and WHAP! She delivered a stinging slap to the blond wizard’s resilient buttocks, more than a little surprised at the solid contact. Apparently the material was thinner than she had estimated and there were no unders and Gods, that butt was firm. Hermione was just a hair too astonished at the success of her smack and she didn’t jump back like she had planned. Instead she stood shaking her smarting hand and frowning; that smack probably hurt her more than him.

To say that Lucius woke up was like calling a tsunami a pond ripple. His head reared up from its snug place under the pillow and with a roar, one hand grabbed his stinging rear while the other grabbed Hermione. She was unceremoniously yanked onto the bed and thrown under her husband - he came down with his entire weight on her from shoulders to toes. Lucius stared at her for only a second before diving in for the most lascivious kiss Hermione had ever experienced in her sheltered life.

The kiss went on… and on… and on, Lucius cataloging each of her teeth and caressing her tongue with his until she was lost in a sensual haze, soaking in an intense arousal, her body languorous and malleable. Her hands merely fluttered over his back, the little witch’s concentration scattered to the winds. That pajama python she had been dreading suddenly had a new allure as it pressed thickly against her lower belly. His body’s weight hotly molding hers somehow brought with it a deep sexual lethargy directing her restless hands to settle on his rear, mindlessly squeezing it as his tongue danced with hers.

Lucius was on fire. Hermione couldn’t have known, but he especially favored spanking, mostly giving, but sometimes getting as a prelude to sweaty, down and dirty sex and he hadn’t gotten any of either for a long time. That smarting slap on his rear had sent his libido into overdrive so fast he was lightheaded from all his blood going south.

The unvarnished truth was Lucius was nearly starved physically and terribly lonely. It had been over three years ago that his wife and he had divorced and he’d mostly been subsisting in a sexual desert ever since. His reputation as a dangerous Death Eater had attracted the wrong women and repelled the good ones. He wasn’t a freakish sideshow to entertain a witch who merely wanted the thrill of screwing a former Death Eater; after coming away from a few beds with his pride shattered he had eschewed those groupie witches who only wanted to brag that they’d been fucked by the wickedly handsome, infamous wizard.

Sadly, another outlet for his personal needs had blown up many years before when he had found out the hard way while still at Hogwarts that the Knockturn Alley brothels had more peepholes than a de Medici villa. The Crucio his father had doled out to him over the scurrilous blackmail he’d become embroiled in had cured him of ever bestowing his custom there again. Lucius’ father wasn’t one for being victimized and the offending brothel had disappeared soon thereafter, but not soon enough to save Lucius from his painful punishment, never mind the disgusting social disease he’d contracted. It had taken him several weeks to get rid of it because his father had taken him to a Muggle doctor for treatment to keep their social coterie from finding out.

Lucius, as an adult, felt he now had a reputation to maintain, tattered though it was. He had escorted a succession of boring, effete young witches to various social functions, but slept with nearly none although that Skeeter woman had written him up as though he’d knocked knickers with every witch in town.

Lately he had pondered possibly finding a Muggle brothel, but the idea had curdled his desire before he acted. Besides the dubious cleanliness, he always had trouble understanding Muggle conversation with the many allusions to places and items he wasn’t familiar with.

He could plainly see now what life had been like for Severus when Lucius was the married one and Severus had been the third at dinner. Lucius wanted to be married again, he wanted a family, and this time he wanted a firecracker in bed instead of a meek, dutiful dormouse. Lucius hadn’t enjoyed his freedom as much as he had thought he would; he wanted someone of his own.

He probably could have bought nearly any of the Pureblood witches if the price was right, but that idea merely depressed him. He wanted more than a reluctant fuck paid for with the pretense that they wanted him instead of his money. Stupidly, he’d now tied himself to a woman who would definitely be classed as a reluctant fuck; he wouldn’t even get the pretense of wanting him from this one.

No, this witch certainly didn’t want him, but she had him, all six feet of him plus some thick, needy inches. And he was going to make the most of it. The floodgates had opened on his repressed sex life and, for better or for worse (probably the latter), Lucius was more than ready to swim up his new wife’s moist English channel.

Hermione was floating on a cloud of lust, overcome by the carnal expertise of the kissing and the delicious, undulating male weight on her slim frame, digging into her at certain mind-stuttering points. Even the light morning beard brushing her lips was sensitizing her whole body to want more, to need more. Her libido was doing mental gymnastics, trying desperately to evade the numerous attempts by her conscience to intrude on some truly magnificent foreplay.

She sighed into her new husband’s mouth and returned the favor of his tongue by following it back into his mouth and playing tag with its seductive movements. Long, strong fingers slid unresisting into her hair, disordering it, holding her face at the angle he wanted as he expertly sapped any thought of resistance; his talented kisses stole her breath as they stole her will, sucking on her tongue, nipping at her lips, devouring her mouth right along with the remnants of her starchy distress.

Those pale eyes lazily regarding her with something akin to a hungry lion stalking a tasty lamb, were almost otherworldly; the thin, dark ring circling the outer edge of his light gray irises only added to their devastating, hypnotic appeal. The little witch closed her eyes against their drugging, dark demand and was immediately lost in a foreign landscape of pure sensation. Her skin vaporized, her muscles melted into a puddle of erotically laced jelly, and all that was left was the pounding cadence radiating out from between her legs.

Hermione knew this was somehow wrong when her mind surfaced long enough from drowning in the salacious sensations, but then she would go under again, slave to the overwhelming desire her body craved. It had been so very long since she had had this sexually enervating feeling and it was acting on her like a powerful drug; her moral nature, her antithetical position on this entire marriage, both were ruthlessly submerged in the visceral drive for completion.

Hermione moaned into Lucius’ mouth and he knew he had her. His lungs were working like bellows, he was all but spent already with the rhythmic pressure of her pelvis on his erection – and he knew he wouldn’t be able to give her the pleasure she blindly craved due to the overlong dry spell he had suffered. He was afraid to touch her any more intimately for fear he would literally go off half-cocked, but if he backed away now and tried to give her satisfaction orally first, she would come back to herself and stop him. He knew it as surely as Slytherins cheated at Quidditch.

He was crazy to have her, to have anything, and it brought him up short. Sweet heavens, he was on the edge of whipping up a serving of cock cream in these pestilential pajamas of his. He could take her now and then hope she developed a sudden addiction to ‘minute waltz’ sex with him, because otherwise once she surfaced from her sexual haze she would be disgusted not only with his pouncing and poor showing, but by her own weakness. If he saw her again in his bed within the next decade he would be lucky… although… maybe she would prefer that their shags were like lightning strikes – a hot, few seconds of flash, then thankfully over. With his carnal proclivities, Lucius would go mad if their sexual encounters were that brief.

Or - he could ease them off his live, pulsing stick of erotic dynamite that was so very close to exploding and gain her trust and gratitude – after she clobbered him for being a villain again. That would leave him with the worst case of blue balls he’d likely ever suffer, but which was worse – one case of blue balls or years of exactly what he had now – nothing.

With that powerful incentive in mind, Lucius slowed down on the feverish kissing and moved to dot tender kisses on her cheeks, forehead and chin, then lifted himself off the tantalizing cushion of his wife’s petite form, howling inside at the loss of that feminine cradle for his cock.

Hermione clutched at the male body lifting off her for a brace of seconds before her conscience finally snatched control from her libido and she let Lucius go. They looked at each other in silence for a minute before Lucius bestowed one last gentle kiss, moved away and got up, disappearing into the bathroom.

Hermione sat up, her mind in chaos and her nerves singing the Hallelujah Chorus while she took several deep breaths to bring her galloping lust under some semblance of control. Finally, as her overwhelming physical appetite waned, she began to examine her feelings – what would she have done if he hadn’t called a halt? Did she want that? Didn’t he want her? It had felt like he did – in several places. But maybe he had come to his senses and realized he was snogging a Mudblood and been repulsed.

Hermione thought if what he had just done with her was repulsion, she might encourage him to out and out hate her. What might he do to her then? The man was superb at kissing. Her scalp still tingled from where his fingers had pressed, holding her head canted for that marauding tongue of his. Hermione shook herself mentally and tried to think beyond that masculine body which had just flattened her into mindless submission.

And what on earth had possessed her to kiss him back like that? She would have said he topped the list of men she disliked, with his snobbery and oily ability to rise from the disaster of his many misdeeds. Yet when he’d kissed her she’d gone up in flames. Hermione pressed shaking fingers to her sensitized mouth, rubbed red from his slight morning beard. Moisture from his lips still clung to hers. She was no wanton, so what had happened?

While Lucius was gone from the room, Hermione got off the bed and found her shoes. She felt sticky from sleeping in her clothes, but was grateful to Lucius for leaving them on her. She felt somehow safer with him for that. And his ability to pull back from the charged atmosphere they had found themselves in was an interesting phenomenon in itself.

He had been intensely interested in what they were doing, there wasn’t any hiding that pulsing bulge that had turned her insides to a wet slush just where it was nestled. That he hadn’t pushed her into more than she really wanted to do was nothing short of amazing to her.

It might have been pure kindness, but Hermione figured Lucius being kind from the purity of his soul was about as likely as Snape marrying Narcissa – oh, hang on, Snape had married Narcissa – the wizarding world shock of the year THAT had been and a more unlikely couple she couldn’t have named. So maybe there was hope for Narcissa’s ex.

The handsome, blond man was easy on the eyes if not the temper. But that was all past worrying about now. She was stuck with him for a mate and might soon be pressured to conceive. After the morning’s activities that possibility seemed more than likely. If he touched her again could she keep from turning back into a lump of dreamy, needy mush? Maybe that zinging feeling between them wasn’t so disagreeable after all. Hermione frowned – how could she ignore their ugly past and this haunting mansion where she had never wanted to be again?

She had forgotten completely about the aborted wedding contract she and Ron had taken out years ago. Her fledgling company had needed a lot of time and his attentions had strayed to Lavender. After a painful examination of their relationship, they had finally decided that they were better friends than lovers and split up. After him, there had been a long, lonely dry spell of a few disappointing dates. She and her middle finger had become soul mates. Overall, she had been starved of physical affection for years while she put in long hours of work in order to get her small, privately owned company, ‘Alohomora Research’ up and running at a profit.

Most recently she had been doing research on the Hogwarts students’ magic abilities, commissioned by a small private educational academy on the continent in competition with Hogwarts, for which she had been paid handsomely. Severus had reluctantly allowed her to gain access to some of the Hogwarts school records after ascertaining for himself that Hogwarts had nothing to hide. Slytherin mentality again. As Head School Governor his cachet in the wizarding world was enormous. Hermione thought it amusing that Snape’s star now shone brightly while Lucius’ was in eclipse and Narcissa had managed to stay basking in the light both ways.

Lucius hadn’t been an irredeemable rogue – he had saved Snape, staunching the dark wizard’s grievous wounds and putting him in stasis until Snape could be brought into the Hogwarts dispensary after Voldemort had left him to die. It was little wonder Snape had stood for Lucius at his wedding to her. Madam Pomfrey had stabilized the dark wizard long enough for him to be transferred to St. Mungo’s. That was a point in the blond wizard’s favor and she knew the two men were still friends, but it was small recompense for all the horror Lucius had inflicted on their world with his championing of Voldemort.

Her healer had told her she needed to put the past behind her or she would never truly get over her trauma - she thought she finally had; much of the trauma had faded over the years as new, happy memories crowded out the old, horrific ones. Then she’d been caught unprepared with her old, open marriage contract and was now trapped in this life-altering relationship, the least of which was going to be some embarrassment over joining body parts. She could be the mother of Draco’s half brother or sister. Now that was disgusting.

Sex starved she might be, but when she discovered that Lucius had taken up her marriage contract, she had not looked forward to being intimate with someone she had despised for many years. She still felt that way, right? It didn’t matter how mind-melting his kisses were.

He was…he was… OLD for Hecate’s sake – so why didn’t her traitorous body understand that? The man was Draco’s father! Ancient. Decrepit. One foot on the funeral pyre. Merlin’s balls but that hot log he’d been rubbing between her legs hadn’t felt like he was going to die of old age any time soon.

Hermione tried to concentrate instead on his family history to slow the pulsing of her nether regions. Yes… ah… yes. Rotten, horrible Malfoys. Being acquainted with his son had done nothing to mitigate her animosity toward the Malfoy family. Only Lucius’ saving of Snape and Narcissa’s final saving of Harry’s life went any way toward muting her hostility. It was pure misfortune that now she was a Malfoy, too.

Hermione began to tap one foot in irritation - the man was certainly taking his time in the facilities. Did he have some sort of problem? Did older people have difficulties of that nature? She had half a mind to bang on the door and roust him out. He was taking more time in there than Hagrid had whiskers.

Her new husband would likely be nothing but aggravation for her; he reminded her of the poncey fops in the romance novels she liked to sneak in between her heavier reading. Vain, pretentious…and…and… my Gods, the man was seriously hung. Unless he padded his pajamas (and anyone who would wear those phosphorescent monstrosities was capable of anything), he had pressed an amazingly large lump into her notch. He wasn’t anything like Ron’s little weasel.

A sudden image veered Hermione’s attention from her new mate’s attributes and made her smile – she would be Draco’s stepmother. Would that give her some power over the spoiled young man? Oh, she hoped so. She rather thought Lucius would have some old-fashioned ideas about a stepmother having some authority over a stepchild.

Hermione began to weave some gruesome scenarios of petty revenges against the annoying prat who had caused Harry and Ron and her so much trouble for so many years. Her smile was what Lucius saw when he emerged from the bathroom, adjusting his cufflinks, bathed, groomed and dressed for the day.

“I assume you would like to freshen up,” Lucius offered warily, not sure where that rather conniving look on his new wife’s face was coming from.

“I would, yes,” answered Hermione, “but I don’t have any clothes to change into so I may as well eat. I am famished. May we eat first?” She belatedly realized that Lucius hadn’t only been in his bathroom, his closet and accessories must be through that door also. Now she felt a total frump.

Her smile became less devious and more disgruntled as her attitude slipped into peevishness, “I tried to wake you but you sleep very soundly. Is there some way to make you wake up that doesn’t include me winding up struggling to breathe under you?”

Lucius chuckled, “My dear, you were breathing just fine even though your tongue was down my throat and vice-versa. I do apologize, however, for not waking at your first attempts. You did have some first attempts?” Hermione snorted and Lucius took that as a yes. “Normally I don’t sleep quite so heavily but my beauty rest was disturbed during the night by holding a small witch with nightmare problems on my lap for quite a while. Do you remember that?”

“Not really,” she fibbed. “Only some singing and warmth. I felt safe enough so I guess I fell back asleep.” Hermione saw Lucius’ face pinken and she snickered at having made Mr. Self-Confidence blush. Was it the safe comment or the singing? She didn’t care right then. She was hungry. “Food?” she prodded.

Ignoring her snide little snicker at his expense, he held out his arm as though they were going to the opera. “I think we should go to the breakfast parlor on foot so you get some idea of the layout of your new home.” Hermione inspected his bent elbow as though it were covered in billywigs, but Lucius raised one supercilious eyebrow and waited her out. “Food?” he repeated, making her understand the elbow had to be accepted or food might be a while in coming.

“Oh, very well,” she said ungraciously and put the tips of her fingers on his sleeve. “What happened to all those rings you were wearing?”

“I decided they drew attention away from my newest ring,” he answered, lifting his ring finger with the shiny new wedding band on it.

When all he got was a disgruntled scowl, Lucius smiled in triumph and led her to the door leading to the sitting room of his suite. “First, I should show you your rooms and then we’ll go to the breakfast parlor. One other thing. Don’t ever spank my backside unless you mean it. I trust I have made myself clear?”

“Uh, right,” she replied, missing his meaning completely. She was busy concentrating on not reacting to the warm tingle shooting up her arm from her touch on his sleeve. “Does Draco live here, too?” she asked, her pinched face letting Lucius know she didn’t welcome his son’s presence.

“No,” was the succinct reply. As Lucius led her out of his bedroom toward another door on the other side of his private sitting room, Hermione mimicked his snooty phrase ‘breakfast parlor’ sassily under her breath. She felt the muscles of Lucius’ arm tense, but he didn’t break stride and a little spurt of embarrassed shame skated through her at her bad manners.

He was treating her courteously and she was now terribly shy and uncomfortable with him, especially after painting his tonsils with her tongue. It wasn’t every day she found herself feeling up Draco’s father through his pajamas and then getting the same protuberance ground against her privates. Her normally intrepid nature had been subdued for the moment by the daunting virility of the man walking beside her. She put it down to being hungry enough to eat a basilisk, fangs and all. However, she was extremely glad to know Draco wouldn’t be at the breakfast table.

Hermione was led across the comfortably furnished sitting room, which matched Lucius’ bedroom in décor, to a door at the other side. Her guide was behaving rather pompously, in her opinion, as he opened the door and gestured her to go first.

Hermione caught her breath at a light and airy wonderland of pale rose velvet hangings framing gorgeous views of a magnificent garden outside in full bloom. The scents wafted in through slightly ajar French windows, which opened onto a balcony with two chairs and a small table between.

The room itself was furnished with a seating arrangement of sofa and two easy chairs done in a delicate, flowery multicolor pattern on white with throw pillows in the same pale rose to match the curtains. The furniture was grouped around a white marble fireplace, currently unlit. Rosewood bookshelves filled with a multicolor display of titles covered one wall of the white painted room; a bespelled wallpaper border of gently moving grass wrapped around the base of all the walls. The whole, airy room looked like the garden had stepped indoors. A roomy, matching rosewood desk sat out from the wall next to the bookshelves. She could sit there and look out on the garden. In bad weather, the garden would still be inside with her. The room with the balcony for her owls would be perfect for her business.

The most interesting part to Hermione was, of course, the collection of books in the shelves. The titles were an eclectic array of subjects, some old friends, and some she hadn’t had a chance to read. The little witch was entranced with her new space, not least because it was her own and she didn’t have to spend all her time in his rooms. If she were forced to live in this ominous old mansion, at least this room wouldn’t give her nightmares – she hoped.

It was probably too much to ask that Lucius would respect her privacy and not enter without her permission. His rights as her husband and the owner of the entire estate gave him that privilege, but when she wasn’t pressed into his company, this could be an oasis with the illusion of freedom for her.

Lucius watched her assessing her new sitting room and he was pleased to see her avid gaze fall on the bookshelves he had so painstakingly stocked for her. The books had been in the other rooms he had originally selected for her, but the elves had done a good job of moving the books to her new quarters during the night – he hadn’t wanted to push his new wife into some sort of psychosis, living in a set of rooms decorated like the grand drawing room that had set her off.

She would initially feel herself caged as his wife, but she could enjoy some of the things he could give her. It was vastly amusing to Lucius that she didn’t quite realize her new position yet, that she was now an extremely wealthy young woman - her nasty crack about the lady of the manor notwithstanding. To give her credit, Lucius understood that his money wasn’t all that important to her. Only time would tell if that stayed true. Cynically, he thought not.

“Shall we look into your new bedroom and then have that breakfast you are so ready for?” Lucius walked across the sitting room and opened a door on the other side. He waited politely for Hermione to precede him into the next room and heard a slight gasp from her. Her bedroom was apparently at a corner of the mansion because it had large windows on two sides of the room, making the whole look ethereal. Here the illusion was of being surrounded by flowers, which were actually gently waving as in a breeze on the wallpaper floor border, just as the sitting room floor border had the moving grass.

The blooms here were multicolor on a pale blue background as though a watercolor-painted sky overarched the room. The rosewood-framed bed in this room was even larger than Lucius’ and was covered in a beautiful, white eyelet counterpane with matching, ruffle-trimmed pillows and a soft, rose-colored blanket folded across the bottom. It was all extremely feminine and lovely, yet spring-like and casual. Hermione liked it very much. Then a dark thought skated across her mind and she frowned.

Lucius saw her vinegary expression and sighed, “Now what?”

“Were these Narcissa’s rooms?”

“They were meant to be the rooms of the mistress of the house, yes, but she never used them.” He gazed sardonically down at his feisty new appendage, “I don’t know why you should care at all, but Narcissa and I always shared my bedroom. The other rooms you saw were our apartments. However, I did change the décor to suit myself a few years ago.” The old light blue and gilt colors had depressed him after Narcissa moved out.

Hermione stifled a grimace. Ouch, that was even worse. She was relegated to separate rooms while Narcissa had been welcomed into his private sanctum. Well, why should she care about that? Having her own set of rooms, and beautiful ones at that, should delight her. It did delight her. Especially the books. “Then why is this apartment so nicely decorated?” she sniffed. The question was formulated in her mind and out her mouth before she could censor it.

“My mother lived in these rooms for the last years of her life. She wasn’t in good health, but she loved looking at the flowers.” Lucius hesitated, “If you don’t like these rooms, there are other sets of apartments available. You can move into one of them and we can make arrangements for our ‘get togethers’ at meals if you wish.”

After an internal struggle between her pleasure in the rooms and her sense of accepting the enemy’s largesse, she smothered her conscience and replied, “These rooms are lovely. I would like to use them if they’re on offer.” Hermione had never seen such soft, feminine, delightful rooms before and she wanted them for her own. She could forget the rest of the nasty mansion here.

Lucius merely nodded in his regal way and held out his arm again. He looked supremely uninterested in her decision and it curdled her appetite some. “Breakfast now, I think,” he proclaimed.

Hermione rolled her eyes but put her fingertips on his sleeve once more. As Lucius led her toward a door from her new bedroom into the main hallway, he tossed out, “the other door in this wall here leads to your bathroom and your closet area just as mine does.” He whisked her out the door to the central upstairs hall and decided to give her a choice, “Apparition or walk to the breakfast parlor?”

Hermione still needed to learn the layout of the vast mansion better, but walking meant they would have to talk on the way. She chose Apparition and saw Lucius sneer. “Well, I’m hungry!” she excused.

“Of course you are,” was all he said but his voice was cold. He put his hand over hers on his sleeve, Apparating them to breakfast. It hadn’t been the best start to their first full day as man and wife, but the wizard’s frustrating day was complete when, over the marmalade and toast, he rashly promised her a week’s grace before proceeding to their wedding night. It was his silent apology for having subjected her to his drawing room. After a silent meal, Lucius morosely disappeared into his study to take himself in hand.

tbc...

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Well, we have a new wrinkle in the story.(Ducks the bricks thrown by the Snape lovers.) Give this pairing a chance. You may like it. Remember this is fiction.

And don't forget to check out the pics for this chapter:

http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/44966.html

Go ahead, tell me what you think. Review link below. Sigh.


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