Inside the Blackest Heart (Edit, Not Update)

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 60 ~ Epilogue #5

Hermione was having a difficult time of it. One might have thought she had to choose between fifty wizards instead of two the way she was agonizing over this. She felt Lucius was like a velvet tiger, all smooth purr and control until the doors closed and his claws came out. And Severus was like a dark dragon, all fire and burn, aching to rend, tear and consume. Both wizards excited her, and she went through several dreams a night about each of them, each dream increasingly erotic but not bringing her release. As a result of this unresolved sexual tension, the Primordial was feeling increasingly frustrated, and this frustration was affecting her day-to-day life. Hermione was constantly on knife’s edge, unable to concentrate, short-tempered and becoming more so as each day passed. Even Hansel and Gretel avoided her now and stayed in their cubby most of the day, coming out only to serve Hermione meals.

“The Miss needs a consort now,” Gretel said to Hansel one morning as they cleaned up a broken plate Hermione had thrown across the room because her scrambled eggs were cold. She could have easily reheated them with her powers, but she just wasn’t able to think.

Hansel nodded solemnly.

“Maybe you could talk to her Hansel. She listens to you. Tell her to call the wizards in and make a decision before she destroys the entire house,” Gretel said, “Otherwise you and I will have to look for other jobs.”

“Me? She might turn me into a flubberworm the way her temper is,” Hansel replied, his ears pressed flat to his head in terror. “You’re female. You do it.”

“Let’s just both do it,” Gretel said.

Hansel nodded.

“All right,” he said his ears still flat against his head, “At least we can die together that way.”

Gretel scowled at him but said nothing. Hermione was unpredictable lately. She really needed release.

The elves waited until Hermione went into the study to work on her research paper. The witch sat at her desk, a piece of parchment in front of her, and a quill in one hand. With the other hand, she was rifling through notes, scowling and muttering to herself.

“I can’t even write a coherent sentence,” she griped frowning at the empty page in front of her. Not only was she having trouble notating her research, she had to cancel a lecture this past week, because she couldn’t stay focused on the topic.

“Miss?” a timid squeaky voice called.

Hermione looked around.

“Gretel, where are you?” Hermione called back.

“Over here, Miss,” the elf’s voice said. Hermione looked around a bit more and saw the Gretel peeking out from behind the armchair near the door. Hansel peeked out from behind her, his ears flattened.

“Why are you hiding?” Hermione asked, putting her quill down.

Hansel answered.

“We weren’t sure what kind of mood you were in, Miss. You’ve been a bit on edge lately. We wouldn’t want you getting angry at us, Miss” he said.

Hermione looked at the elves hiding behind the armchair and felt horrible.

“Come out. I won’t get angry,” she said softly, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.”

“We do, Miss,” Gretel offered.

The elves slowly approached her and stopped in front of her desk, standing very close together.

“What, Gretel?” she asked.

“You need to get a consort, Miss. You’ve been alone too long, and are tense. You need to mate,” the elf said, her ears flattening as she did so. She hoped she hadn’t angered the Primordial.

“I’ve been alone a long time, Gretel. I never acted like this before,” Hermione retorted a little sharper than she meant to. Gretel cringed a little.

“Yes, Miss. But you didn’t have the wizard you wanted. Now you have two you want. It is easy to be alone when you have no one. But not so easy when you have someone available to you and you want him,“ Gretel said wisely.

What the elf said was true. Hermione had two men anxious to relieve her, and hadn’t acted on it. As a result she was tormented every night by dreams, and almost unable to get anything done during the day. She needed to call Lucius and Severus in, make her choice and get laid.

“But it is so hard to choose, Gretel,” Hermione said.

“Call them in. They will help you choose,” Hansel said, feeling braver now that Gretel had broken the ice. “You need a consort, Miss, very badly. You won’t get anything done until this is settled.”

The elves were right. Hermione had to contact the two wizards. It had been two weeks since Severus had threatened her so deliciously. She could use some of his punishment right now. Warmth spread all through her at the thought.

The elves looked at each other when Hermione’s eyes went half-lidded. They weren’t as attuned to her emotions as bound elves were, but they got the gist of it.

Hansel went and retrieved Hermione’s owl, Fezziwig.

Hermione looked at the owl and shook her head.

“No, Hansel. I can contact them faster and more directly,” Hermione said. She concentrated.

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Snape was in his potions lab working on a new brew when suddenly an image of Hermione was standing next to him. He almost dropped the vial he was holding. The image looked at him.

“Mr. Severus Snape, your presence is requested at the House of the Hill at seven pm tonight. Be prepared by that time. You will be transported to your destination,” Image-Hermione said. Then it faded.

The Potions Master blinked several times at the empty spot where the image had stood. He smirked to himself. He’d be ready. Very ready.

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Lucius was in the process of wrapping Narcissa’s long legs around his neck when the image of Hermione appeared in his bedroom, startling them both. Fortunately, the image couldn’t see either of them. It was just a projection of Hermione’s message.

"Lord Lucius Malfoy, your presence is requested at the House on the Hill at seven pm tonight. Be prepared by that time. You will be transported to your destination,” the image said, then faded away.

Lucius looked down at Narcissa, who said, “I think you’d better save your strength and ardor, husband. The Primordial summons you. And if the tabloids are telling the truth about her, it has been a long, long time since she’s had a man.”

Lucius kissed his wife and rolled off of her.

“It has been long. I could see it in her eyes, Narcissa,” he said, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Only her modesty kept her from letting me fuck her in her office,” he said.

“Well, let us hope she loses her modesty quickly then. It will only get in the way of her enjoying herself,” Narcissa replied.

“I don’t think modesty will be a problem, wife. Need can supersede it. The Primordial has quite a choice to make tonight, “ he said obliquely. Something in his voice made Narcissa sit up in the bed.

“Lucius Malfoy, what are you up to? I heard that note in your voice,” she said, burning up with curiosity. Lucius had the most twisted plans at times. He half-turned to face her.

“I can’t tell you, wife. It might affect the outcome. You know I’m superstitious,” he drawled, giving her a twisted, wicked little smile.

“I know you are a manipulative bastard. You have something planned for that young witch, don’t you? Something delicious,” she pressed, trying to get details out of him. She rubbed his back, tracing his scars with her nails lightly. He too had felt the lash while in Voldemort’s service.

“You’re not going to get any details out of me until I find out if the plan works, or fails,” he said arching his back a little, and wincing as she scratched him for denying her.

“You’ll pay for that later,” he growled.

“Promise?” she purred, licking the bit of blood caught under her nail as Lucius watched her. Minx.

“Be sure of it,” he said, rising before he gave in to his urge to ravish her.

Narcissa lay back down in the bed and watched her husband dress with appreciative eyes. He was a beautiful man. Devastatingly handsome, broad chested, muscular, and well endowed. He could have posed for the cover of romance novels as the hero or villain. She preferred villain.

The Primordial would be very pleased with him.

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At six fifty-nine Severus stood on his patio, waiting to be transported. He wore his trademark black robes over a pair of black silk boxers and black loafers. No socks His black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Lucius would be dressed similarly. He watched the clock on the wall of his kitchen. The moment the minute hand clicked over to twelve, he was gone.

Lucius Malfoy stood in his study. Narcissa had gone out for the evening to find her own entertainment since he didn’t expect to return tonight. He was dressed in a dark blue robe, dark blue boxers and dark blue loafers. He too was watching the clock on the wall, waiting to be transported to the House on the Hill. When the hand clicked over, he too was gone.

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Hermione was a nervous wreck. All day her stomach had been flipping over in anticipation of seeing the two wizards again. She still didn’t have any idea how to choose between them, and decided to let each of them attempt to convince her in turn by telling her why he was most suitable consort. She would choose the one who moved her most and let him take her. Tonight. She was tired of dreams.

Hermione had dressed in a simple white dress with straps, white flats and pinned her long chestnut hair up with a white hair clip. She looked pristine, but the nervous, hungry glow present in her amber eyes brought her up short of virginal. She was perspiring slightly, and her skin held a slight sheen. She had set up three comfortable armchairs in her study. Two of them faced a single chair, the one she would occupy as she spoke to the wizards and made her choice. There was a large bottle of wine, glasses, napkins and a selection of finger foods on a small table to the right.

She kept checking the clock, amazed at how fast the time was passing. Soon it was almost time to transport Severus and Lucius, and her heart seemed to clinch in her chest as the hour arrived. There was no turning back now. She closed her eyes and willed the wizards to her.

When she opened them, both wizards stood before her, their eyes locked to hers, looking sober yet hungry at the same time. They were similarly dressed, but in different colored robes. Severus looked more like she remembered him, except for the ponytail and goatee. Lucius looked handsome as always, his gray eyes glinting into hers hotly.

“Good evening, Primordial,” both wizards said in unison.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Hermione replied, fervently hoping they didn’t hear the slight quaver in her voice.

But they did.

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A/N: Naming everything epilogue is SO much easier than making chapter titles. Another glaring testament to my innate laziness. Anyway, next chapter…ooh la la. Man, writing this next chapter is going to make my keyboard melt. To those who think Hermione has standards, she does when it suits her, like all of us. Everyone’s bent a standard or three at one time or another to get what they want. Right now she’s so randy she can’t formulate a simple line for her research papers, let alone think about doing the right thing.

Hermione understands the deatheater ethic, accepts it and kind of adheres to it herself, since it appeals to her darker nature and makes the unacceptable acceptable. Let’s face it. Snape is a rapist and murderer. To willingly fuck him is a definite lowering of normal acceptable standards anyway. He should be shunned if anything. So it shouldn’t be surprising that she is attracted to Lucius who shares the same dark background and tastes as the Potions Master. That he’s married is a moot point and the least of reasons not to fuck him. If his wife doesn’t mind, why should she?

Alright, enough vain attempts at justifying what is blatantly my own twisted desire to write a really hot threesome scene no matter what anyone else thinks. Lol Good wholesome moral standards were thrown out of the window long ago, when I wrote my first graphic lemon. (Would you let your grandchildren read this stuff?) Can’t get scared now. Those of you who can enjoy please enjoy. And please review this chapter. Thanks