Beyond the Veil -- COMPLETE

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Updated 3-18-08


Thank you for all the intelligent and fascinating comments. I’ve read them with great interest and enjoyed them. I appreciate the time you’ve taken with your ideas.


Some questions you have:


FlowersBecomeScreens – Hermione was asleep when she was overpowered, but more answer in a later chapter. Magical alarm bells and using his real name won’t be a problem. Good thoughts, FBS.

Lissy – I can’t hurt Hermione. Don’t worry.

Shez – You think something more may happen between our heroes? Pshaw. And I think ‘blunt’ as a word is all over the Georgette Heyer novels.

LadyBlueEyes – Does Lucius know he’s possessive? Read on and you tell me… 8-)

pittwitch – Hermione grateful to Lucius? Yes…and no.

Ravenna – Poor Lucius will feel badly about his alcoholic haze.

meankitty69 – I loved that pic of Lucius, too.

Scary – Your good opinion means a lot. Thank you.

TambratheGreat – Your first question – fantastic.

LadyVoldemort87 – Here is your update.

jw – Their first time in the brothel? - Uh, not exactly.

Datoichii – Possessive, yes. Staying there? Not quite.

Utopia – Lucius is the hero, he’s up to all your questions.

blue artemis – Lucius feeling guilty? For awhile, anyway…

And now to see if Hermione is saved.

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Chapter Nine


The Scent of a Savior



The moment the door closed, Hermione hurried toward the red-haired wizard, but a raised hand from him cautioned her to stay still. She stomped a furious foot pointing to her lips with a glare that could freeze a boiling cauldron, but her sudden rush of tears gave away her terror at her recent treatment.

It was all too much - her kidnapping, being stripped, and the invasion of her privates to see if she was still a virgin followed by a second angry clout to her temple at her non-virgin status. There hadn’t been much hope of a virgin what with her living with a man, but the disappointment at their lowered income had earned her the second smack anyway. Combined with the first smack to her head on the stairs, her ears still rang. If that wasn’t enough she’d then been tarted up to look like a caricature of a Knockturn Alley trollop, and now Lucius, who had disdainfully silenced her with a nonverbal spell flicking off his fingers, was behaving as though he were here purely for the pleasure of using her. She was furious and terrified and now she only wanted to get away from this horrible place, not play stupid games with a wizard whom she knew could take the place apart with a flick of his wand. Why wasn’t he?

Lucius had no intention of disrupting such a prosperous business or destroying the physical premises. There were too many innocent people for one thing, but his fertile mind had already assessed the property as yet another for his own collection and he didn’t wish to ruin the popular custom it enjoyed. He idly scanned the room including all the walls before focusing on his little ‘treat’ for the evening.

The wizard came forward slowly, circling Hermione as if to assess his evening’s entertainment, seeing her pert rounded backside through the limp lace and suddenly wishing very badly that he could enjoy a few, just a very few swats on those luscious feminine pillows. Gods, he missed spanking Narcissa. He didn’t miss her per se, just the sex play.

Lucius finally stopped to stand right behind her, leaning down over her shoulder as though he would kiss her ear, but instead breathed almost silently as he nuzzled her and gently wiped her tears away with a finger, “They are still watching us, Granger. There are two peepholes – one above the headboard on the bed and one in the opposite wall. Don’t look for them!” he admonished, as she automatically began to turn her head toward the wall, “I’m going to give them a bit of a show before I turn out all the lights so they can’t see us anymore.” Peepholes were standard issue in many brothels and these two weren’t even very well hidden.

“You can behave a little fearfully to make it more realistic,” his faint words soothed her fears rather than increasing them, “although I imagine that won’t be difficult for you, disliking me as you do, but don’t be too standoffish or that harpy will come back in here. Do you understand?” he lightly nuzzled Hermione’s ear some more, sliding his hand around her waist and pulling her back against him.

Hermione just nodded faintly, appearing to relax into Lucius’ embrace as though his action was seducing her against her better judgment, as in truth it was. She completely despised herself for being so very glad to see him, even though she had been confident he would track her through their connection charms. His aroma of lime and maleness was beginning to affect her like that Pavlov’s dog in the Muggle psychology books. It was starting to mean safety and comfort and other things she didn’t want to contemplate at all. She knew he wasn’t safe. No man was, and especially not a morally bankrupt Death Eater. To hope for anything different was only to court more misery. But, oh, she was so glad he had come.

Lucius opened his hand over Hermione’s belly and slid it downward, only at the last moment veering over to the opposite hip rather than onto her mons, but she reacted anyway, jerking at the intimate touch of his warm palm on her body below her navel. A rapid intake of air punctuated her stiff movement, signaling to any watchers that she was trying to obey the Madame, but was frightened of her first ‘customer’. However, by now Hermione had all but forgotten she had an audience as the sensuous glide of Lucius’ hand focused all her attention on the secret place he hadn’t touched. Her reaction was so mixed she felt faint with it. That was a self-centered Pureblood bastard behind her. Don’t trust, don’t trust. Gods, that sliding hand felt goooood.

“Very good, Granger,” Lucius whispered, unconsciously repeating Hermione’s thought, “One would almost believe you actually felt something. If we get into dire straits, you can always go on the stage.”

Hermione gritted her teeth at his slur, her embryonic erotic glow abruptly snapping and leaving her angry that he would still belittle her in this painful situation. He always treated her like a dim-witted poodle. She could never do anything that gained his approval - her lowly Mudblood background would always stand between them. His constant reminders and rebukes had made her furious and hurt, although she had tried her best to stamp out any desire to please him as a companion, telling herself his approval was as welcome as a vampire at a blood bank.

Why would she want to bring any joy whatsoever to a vicious, wicked Death Eater by behaving well for him? Oh, sweet Merlin, please don’t move that hand where I want it to go, a single moan escaped her as she twisted her shoulders in irritation with the faint stirrings of a desire she hadn’t had to deal with for years.

Lucius was in pain himself, his trousers already beginning to constrict his kindling erection. The well-remembered familiar environs and smell of this type of upscale brothel was acting on him predictably as long as he kept his eyes closed against the nauseating décor. He wanted a warm, soft, clean woman and unfortunately he was now holding a very pretty one who smelled of some musky, erotic fragrance that must have been applied by the Madame, but was making him as hard as the Dark Lord’s heart. Two more seconds and Hermione was going to know he wasn’t completely play-acting if she rubbed her sweet little bum up against him one more time. Those tight pants had a lot to answer for, cupping his obvious reaction in loving detail.



Lucius had been attempting to distance himself from the little witch with his continued digs at her behavior, only his technique wasn’t helping him to think of her as just an annoying, prissy spinster any more. To be entirely truthful, that Tahitian Sunset underwear had been a major crack in his defenses and it had been widening ever since.

Lucius’ one visit to the low-class brothel he’d found earlier in the evening hadn’t been nearly as successful as he had hoped. He’d managed to finish after a few minutes of using a wet, loose pussy, but he was incredibly annoyed by the goods - he may as well have used his hand, it was tighter. He had demanded doggy-style so he didn’t have to look at the owner of the soggy sheath he was spearing. His release had been mediocre and very disappointing, making him crabbier than he’d been before he went there and he owed his entire distempered reaction to this delicate sprite in his arms.

The coarse, nondescript female hadn’t been anywhere near his standard, being not much better than the tavern slut and he’d been angry knowing he had to return to sleep chastely beside a young woman who would have been much more to his taste if he could have chosen. Petite had always been his preferred taste in females, their delicate bone structure, light weight for moving their bodies just as he wanted, and their weakness in comparison to him all brought his libido rarin’ up to the starting gate for sex. Hermione fit the bill perfectly.

He’d gone for a few more ales after his irritating experience in the third-rate brothel, winding up at home half drunk. And now he was taking it out on the little witch when she was the victim here. He was feeling guilty about pursuing his own sport and not protecting her, cheated of the orgasmic experience he’d hoped to have, and still a bit sloshed from the cheap, but potent ale from the tavern. Not a very good combination if one was then presented with a fairy-sized young witch whose allure had been growing on him for days.

Lucius angled Hermione so their interaction didn’t play to both peepholes. He pivoted, sweeping her into his arms and pressing his lips over hers. His initial idea was to keep his lips closed and pretend to be indulging in a ravenous lip lock, but Hermione’s shocked gasp put paid to that honorable intention when her mouth opened wide and his lips were unexpectedly surrounded by hers. His tongue darted into her mouth almost without his volition and once it was there it decided to stay and explore its new home.

Lucius’ groan was real and heartfelt. There was no way he was stopping this glorious, sensual tasting of a lovely young woman’s sweet, moist mouth. It had been so long for him. So damned long. He hadn’t had the slightest desire to kiss the whore he’d used earlier so this kiss was the first in over twelve years. He imagined that was why it was so spectacular and so fiercely arousing when he’d just had a woman a few hours ago.

Hermione was electrified by the extemporaneous assault all the way down to her tiny toenails, which were digging into the carpet in convulsive reaction as her tongue was inspected millimeter by millimeter by his. She expected to be nauseated by the crude kiss, but her blood sizzled in her veins as her body telegraphed the fierce expertise being visited between her lips to places further down. Even the faint taste of ale from Lucius’ tongue couldn’t lessen her unwilling enchantment. She vaguely tried to talk around the intent spelunking going on inside her mouth, but soon gave up the exercise as the sensual waves began to vibrate insistently throughout her body. Her hands hesitantly touched Lucius’ shoulders, trembling with the force of his osculatory incursion.

His little witch did taste like the most delicious sin and it was now difficult for the aroused wizard to remember that he was performing for an audience. He dragged his foggy mind back from mentally wandering through Hermione’s soft, sensuous assets and tried to focus on his next move. Lucius lifted his head, ending the scorching kiss, and ran his fingers through Hermione’s hair, remembering that he had extolled curly hair to the Madame. “I love your curls,” he purred out loud, “such a feminine look that appeals to me immensely.” He guided her over to the bed by the simple expedient of pulling her there by her locks and sitting her firmly on the mattress, looking anywhere but at her revealing nightgown made of some cobwebby material that failed to disguise her rosy nipples and that honey-brown, siren’s wedge of groin curls.

Hermione was fast returning from the euphoria of a kiss unlike any she’d ever experienced, “Please sir, you’re hurting me.” Hermione surreptitiously pinched Lucius at his waist where her hand rested under his tight, fitted jacket. Her other hand reached upward to her coiffure to untangle his fingers from her hair.

“Take your hair down for me,” Lucius commanded sliding his fingers from her hair, “I want to see it with the curls completely unpinned. Take it down.”

Hermione didn’t know what he was play-acting at now, but she was just as happy to release her hair from the pins, which had kept her hair in a torturous upswept style, a froth of curls at the top. She made short work of removing all the pins and shaking out her hair into the relaxed style she normally favored.

Lucius sat down on the coverlet beside Hermione and leaned into her neck, kissing up from her nape to her ear and once more keeping his tone low, “Be still just a few more minutes while that bitch decides you’ll accept my advances. Then I’ll make an excuse and turn off the lamp and close the drapes giving us both darkness.” He ran his fingers into her unbound hair affecting great enjoyment with the soft curls before holding her head in place for another intimate kiss.

As Lucius’ tongue entered her mouth again, Hermione shivered with distress and pleasure all tangled together, trying desperately to relax as his hands descended to her shoulders and tenderly slid the thin lingerie straps off, letting them drop down onto her arms. Immediately she could feel the material start to slip off of her and she slapped a hand onto her chest to hold the tacky, revealing lace to her breasts.

Lucius lifted his head, staring at her as though he hated her, his eyes boring into her own defiant ones as he firmly removed her clutching hand allowing the lacy bodice to drop to her waist. He signaled silently to her that she had to keep up the pretense or they were going to be interrupted, inviting a worse scenario for them both. When he had made his silent point and Hermione’s eyes lowered, Lucius’ eyes slowly roamed from her face, past her trembling lips to the lovely, high, full breasts currently riding up and down in fluttering reaction to her rapid breaths.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured for their audience and because he just had to say it. He watched as a flush spread over the perfect twin globes, “What is your name, dearling?” His eyes met hers once again in warning as a warm, firm palm weighed one curvy, feminine breast before gliding over the entire surface, gently squeezing the plumpness and tweaking its puckering crest.

The anger she’d seen in his eyes stemmed not only from his warning, but from his engorged cock, which was currently being thoroughly crushed between his leg and the fabric of his tight pantaloons; he cursed the fashionable wardrobe he’d designed for this little masquerade once again and felt some sharing of his sexual pain was in order.

Hermione jumped at the unexpected sensation of his pinch on her sensitive peak. “Lu -” Lucius swooped down on her mouth, covering her lips again before his name could be said out loud for their peeping audience. This time Lucius wrapped his tongue around hers and fully opened his lips, devouring any more unwary words she might decide to utter.

Soon they were both lost in the erotic enslavement of male tongue conquering female with Lucius’ free hand now circling Hermione’s neck to hold her in thrall to his piratical, oral raid while his occupied hand continued to massage one full breast and pinch the tautened nipple.

Lucius, however, wasn’t even totally cognizant of his hands any more as he sank deeper and deeper into that volcanic kiss. His dark blue-glamoured eyes had glazed over with his untamed, salacious onslaught, losing sight for the moment of his larger goal and focusing only on the luscious, soft interior of her mouth. He thoroughly scoured her tongue with his, before at length being seduced by the soft, weighted enticement in his hand.

His mouth trailed down her cheek, her throat, past her collarbone and like a homing pigeon covered the other, forlornly unattended rosy nub with his hot, seeking mouth, causing Hermione to moan at the touch of a wet, heated tongue licking her nipple. Then Lucius brazenly sucked it hard between his lips, drawing a shocked feminine gasp. His hand hadn’t ceased his ministrations of her other breast, continuing to squeeze and pinch until she slid her fingers into his auburn, glamoured tresses, holding him to her. Her touch had him humming his delight in her participation, which further aroused the sensitive tip.

Hermione was having trouble catching her breath between the little moans she was quite unaware of uttering. Her senses were overloading in her shock at the behavior of the man she thought was there to save her. Her eyelids slowly sank until she was blindly swimming in sensation, the sucking pulls of Lucius’ mouth on her nipple almost hypnotic to her starved femininity. When was the last time she had felt that enervating slide into an erotic haze she’d all but forgotten existed? Who was this wanton inhabiting her body? How could a man’s mouth feel so outrageously good? No… NO! He was just taking advantage like the others had, betraying her, using her. How could Lucius do this to her?

Hermione sucked in tortured breaths at the electric stabs of his sucking mouth and got another shock. When had his scent changed from limes to musky, wilted lilacs? That was a woman’s smell he wore. A cheap woman. And it wasn’t the horrid smell she had been doused with after that humiliating bath. The disgusting perfume the Madame had spilled on her had disguised that telltale scent before now, but the increased warmth of Lucius’ body was bringing out the separate aroma of some other female.

Lucius’ hand descended from her nape to slide down her spine and press more of her tender flesh between his starving lips. His mouth opened wide over the soft skin topped by that rigid little point that delighted his teeth and tongue. Her grasping pull on his hair unlatched something primal in him and his oral conquest of her breast took on an uncontrollable urgency, an act of desperation.

Lucius was nearly demented by now. He’d vastly overestimated his ability to accomplish his plan of pretending to purchase Hermione for the night and freeing her. His intense enjoyment came to an abrupt end, however, when something wet fell on his face as he suckled that utterly gorgeous breast with his mouth and tongue. Lucius was brought back to the moment as he belatedly realized that his little witch was crying.

Lucius jerked his lips off her, shaking his head as though he was coming out of a trance. He dropped a regretful kiss on the slope of her breast before lifting his head to see her drenched brown eyes reproaching him. He rested his forehead on the top of her curls, “Sweet hell, forgive me, Hermione,” he whispered low, “it’s been so damn many years and I forgot myself in how soft and feminine you are.”

They sat together, his face buried in her hair for a few moments as Hermione clung to him and they both tried to calm the roaring beasts within and regain some semblance of normal breathing. Hermione knew him for a traitorous beast, but he was her only mainstay in this entire world and so she continued to quietly cry in his arms, feeling she had lost something she hadn’t even known she wanted.

The little witch’s tears were making Lucius rue his lack of control, but he still wanted almost madly to resume his marauding. It took some moments of struggle but when he felt he had regained sufficient control of his rampaging libido, he finally lifted his head and murmured low, “Lie down, but leave the nightgown where it is at your waist so the peepers will focus on you. I’ll do the rest. Please.”

Lucius rose from the side of the bed where they had been sitting and faced her, keeping his eyes strictly on hers and saying loudly enough for their eavesdroppers to hear, “Lie down dearling, while I close the drapes. I’ll turn down the lamp as I have a scar on me I’d prefer not to display.” He walked over to the window and drew the brocade drapes firmly across the glass, then returned to the bed.

Hermione continued to cry almost silently, her arms hugging herself as she lay down on the bed as Lucius had directed. She was so conflicted she hardly knew how she felt. It had been so many years since anyone had even drawn a second glance from her that she had assumed her interest in the opposite sex was dead forever. She wanted it to be dead forever. She knew as well as he did that Lucius had gone beyond what he had needed to do to pretend and yet…

And yet a tiny, rebellious part of her had wanted him to be seduced by her femininity, perhaps to prove that she wasn’t so completely undesirable. She reluctantly understood that she wasn’t so deadened to sex that the attention of a virile, handsome man wasn’t still a coveted compliment. She had been able to suspend her dislike and fear of the former Death Eater and submerge herself in his erotic touch because he didn’t look exactly like himself with that red hair, and his cobalt blue eyes. Hermione knew it was still familiar Lucius but with enough difference to make her momentary acquiescence forgivable. Why had he needed to be with some other woman? Once again she didn’t have whatever it took to keep a man’s interest.

Hermione recognized she was purely fooling herself, but it had felt so unbelievably wonderful and Lucius was so lasciviously accomplished in his attentions to her womanly passions that she had allowed him to swamp her senses for awhile until the sickly lilac scent had reanimated her fears and long-standing dislike and distrust of the Death Eater, finally overwhelming her emotions and making her break down in tears. Her confidence in her attractiveness had taken two major blows close together all those years ago, after which she had decided that rejection was too painful to bear to attempt another relationship and she had been right. She fiercely reminded herself that she had been perfectly happy buried in the basement of the Ministry doing work she enjoyed.

Tonight she knew that Lucius had only been carried away by the circumstances and, as he’d said, twelve years of no females, which she now suspected was a lie. It would be incredibly stupid of her to think anything else was going on besides his attraction to an available pair of female breasts. Probably hers weren’t as attractive as the ones sporting that cheap scent.

Lucius turned down the lamp until it was dark enough that no one using the peepholes could see anything worthwhile. He sat down on the side of the bed and leaned over Hermione who was trying to bring her crying under control, although occasional quiet sobs still escaped into the gloom. Lucius didn’t know if it would be better to merely try to comfort her with words or if she needed to be held. He decided that he’d probably touched her enough for now and words might be better received.

“I’ll be gone for awhile,” Lucius whispered, “then I’ll take you home.”

“No!” the distraught witch erupted, “you don’t understand,” she said more softly, as another sob caught her speech, “without my wand, they’ll capture me again. I don’t want to go back there. It’s not safe.”

Lucius attempted to alleviate her fear, knowing he had some of the blame for her distress, “No one will bother you again in that house, Hermione. That Muggle landlady hag sold you to this place, but she is gone forever. She’ll never return and as soon as possible, we’ll move somewhere else. I promise. And I’ve brought your wand from home. I have your clothing too.” He settled the wand he had brought with him in her hand in the dark, making sure she could feel it. He pulled the reduced package of her clothes from his inside pocket and returned the items to their normal size, laying them down beside her and placing her other hand on them.

Hermione felt her magical protection return to her hand and suddenly she wanted revenge, her preoccupation with Lucius’ inappropriate aroma shoved aside. “I haven’t thrown any curses in many years,” she said quietly, still mindful of their situation, “but I remember how and I certainly have the desire needed to make one work.” She sat up on the mattress and started to clamber off it intent on making the Madame and her goons fry for the inhuman treatment she’d received. Her ears still rang a bit from being clouted twice, and her privates had been poked just a little too avidly for Hermione to feel any saintly forgiveness for her captors.

Lucius stopped her with a staying hand on her shoulder, his voice a whispered thread of sound in her ear, “Please, Hermione, I know you want your own back, but I wish you’d let me attend to this in my way. I’ve scoped out the entire building and the way it’s run. I’ll make sure that the Madame never forces another person into prostitution. Wait here for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes, then I’ll take you home. Thrash around on the bed and make some sounds as though we were enjoying ourselves - for the benefit of our listeners.” Lucius approved of her bloodthirsty attitude, however, this time he wanted to be the one taking vengeance on her behalf.

Hermione felt rather than saw him apparate into smoke and leave the room. She knew the smoke meant he was going to move quickly through the building where they were rather than leave the premises, but the emptiness he left behind made her heart catch in fear and loss as she quietly lay back down on the horrid, trollop’s bed to simulate a couple’s movements for any listeners. She tossed around on the coverlet, murmuring and sighing as she waited for Lucius to finish whatever he had in mind. All too soon a thump was heard on the other side of the wall from where the bed stood, then another tussle from the opposite wall. Then silence.

Hermione got up and threw off the hated negligee, using her wand to dress herself in her own clothes, then she waited several minutes hearing nothing more. Just as she was starting to get worried, Lucius returned through the door and lit the lamp by the bed again. He looked as beautifully turned out as he had when he first entered her bedroom prison, not a mark on him nor a hair out of place, although it was still auburn. Hermione grumped to herself that he always seemed to be sartorially perfect, while she probably looked – and smelled – like that tavern slut who had accosted her in the park. That reminded her that so did Lucius, but her interest wasn’t on him and his trashy fragrance at the moment. A few of her disordered curls hung in her face, tickling her nose. She pushed her fingers through her locks up and away from in front of her face.

Her confidence was returning with her wand – and with Lucius’ presence - and she immediately asked, “What did you do? Where are those monsters?” she started toward the door intent on serving up a few crucios to her deserving captors.

Lucius was pleased to see she wasn’t swooning from her ordeal, but the wand was shaking like an aspen leaf in her hand so he knew she wasn’t quite as recovered as she looked. He said mildly, “They’re gone. All of them. It must be a slow night because only four other men were being entertained in other bedrooms.”

Lucius had glamoured himself as one of the two goons and invited the men to leave as he claimed the Madame had discovered an imminent visit by the constabulary. Everyone knew bribes would ultimately be accepted, but no one wanted to take the chance of the occasional zealous official actually searching the premises. The few gamblers left downstairs had decided to vacate also.

Lucius chuckled to himself at the frightened faces of the men who had been frolicking upstairs. All married if he didn’t miss his guess. He turned to Hermione, “I’d like you to talk to the other women of this place and ask them their preferences for continuing on as, uh, employees. Can you do that? And also the kitchen workers. The ones who no longer wish to work here will be permitted to return to wherever they wish. Others may wish to stay. Unfortunately there are a few like yourself who came here under duress.” He added, “I don’t think, as a man, they’ll be as forthcoming to me as they would be to a woman.”

Hermione was taken aback at the responsibility Lucius was putting on her shoulders. “Why would any of the women want to stay? And besides, if those devils are gone I don’t want to stay here another minute!” She started walking toward the door again.

Lucius stopped her with his words, “A few of the inhabitants aren’t more than twelve or fourteen. I would like to have this dealt with as soon as possible for their sakes.”

Hermione’s breath caught. So young! And they’d obviously been here longer than she had. Her shoulders slumped, but her way forward was obvious. “Alright, get them organized and I’ll talk to them. But how will we get them back home, wherever that is? We don’t have any money.”

Lucius smiled cynically, “This establishment is very lucrative and somehow, Madame forgot to take her recent earnings with her.”

Hermione knew she should ask what Lucius had done with the wicked Madame and her two enforcers, but she couldn’t decide if she had wanted him to merely punish them or something far worse. Since her own mind wasn’t made up on that issue, she let the whole question of their fates fade from her mind, acknowledging that she truly didn’t want to know if Lucius had done something terrible to them. She felt cowardly and weak, letting the burden rest on Lucius’ stinky shoulders alone and ironically that made her more antagonistic toward him, rather than less, sinking to the level of a petty revenge for him seeking out another woman for sex.

Hermione’s olfactory supposition of his recent extracurricular activities was, of course, entirely correct, but Lucius wasn’t to know his foreign-smelling tang had given away his surreptitious carnal activities to Hermione. Lucius knew he had recently been doing a lot more than squeezing a woman’s breast when he’d told Hermione it had been twelve years for him, but to his mind the brief covert fuck he’d indulged in hadn’t counted in any meaningful way - all he really wanted to do was forget the disappointing experience so he wouldn’t feel so guilty about it. Unfortunately for both of them, with Hermione’s newfound knowledge of Lucius’ sexual side trip, her faith in him took a nosedive, making the possibility of their future joint reentrance into the steamy realm of adult sexuality tenuous at best.

Lucius waited briefly for Hermione to ask what had become of the trio, but as the seconds ticked away, he realized she wasn’t going to enquire and he thought he knew exactly why. The fates of the three miscreants had been shifted onto his conscience to deal with, leaving her conscience lighter with ignorance. Luckily, his psyche could bear the weight easily when he’d seen what those three had done to Hermione and what other atrocities they’d kept in the various bedrooms of this evil place. The less Hermione ever learned about the depths of their villainy, the better.

For the moment, all three of the dastards were piled up like logs in the garden shed at the back of the property’s small garden, just like the landlady was in hers. They were all under the Petrificus Totalis spell awaiting Lucius’ return in the morning. Lucius had already obliviated each of them after forcing Madame to write an explanatory letter for her solicitor and sign over the deed to her flourishing flesh emporium with a handy Imperius. His mouth quirked into a half-smile. He was fast becoming a property owner of distinction. Silver linings and all that.

In the morning he would apparate them to separate places in the Forbidden Forest. Let them deal with the inhabitants of that dangerous place as victims themselves for once. Without any magic, it was unlikely they’d manage to find their way out and they would be doing the animals a service by providing lunch. Waste not, want not - now he smiled fully to himself. He was just full of clichés tonight. It was certainly going to be a busy morning tomorrow. But the rewards were quite handsome.

tbc...


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Oh dear, Lucius may be heroic, but he's still quintessentially Lucius.

I would LOVE a review. Or, rate this story using the rating scale down on the right. BUT, I would LOVE a review.

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