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Hermione was bored as she sat on the bed in her room, all alone. Lucius had sent her there, unkissed, a few hours ago with the admonishment, “Just think about all that anticipation, my dear, while I’m at work. And, you’ll be happy to know, I’ll be telling them about the upcoming nuptials today.”
“And this is supposed to make me happy why?” she had inquired, but he had merely patted her backside and had a house elf take her back to her room.
“What the bloody hell does the man think I’m supposed to do all day?” Hermione grumbled. “He didn’t even give me anything to read. What, am I supposed to just sit in here pining away for his kiss all day or something?”
“That is precisely what you were supposed to do,” Lucius answered as he stepped into her room with a grin plastered on his face.
“Didn’t work, you know,” she told him as she came to stand before him. “All I did today was devise various ways to emasculate you—mmm, the anticipation—“
“Now Hermione, we both know that isn’t true,” he chastised her. “Although, I think perhaps I will give you a book or two to read tomorrow.”
His chuckle as he said this did not bode well for the type of reading material he had in mind. Hermione groaned inwardly, wondering just what he was thinking up now. But she resolved not to say another word about it, just to annoy him.
“Well then, my dear, shall we go down to dinner? Say, in about thirty minutes? I’d like to change into something more comfortable first, and I have brought you a few items as well,” he said with that little smile of his he liked to wear so you couldn’t tell what he was really thinking. She hated it when he did that.
“How do you know it’s the right size?” she asked him sweetly. “I don’t seem to have my wand in my possession, so I won’t be able to make it fit if you’re wrong.”
“Oh, I’m not wrong,” he told her confidently. “I know a great deal about that body of yours, Hermione. I’ve been wanting it for quite some time now. I doubt very much I am far off the mark. I’ll see you in a while. And please don’t try to pull that childish nonsense by not wearing my gift. It would not become someone as intelligent and sophisticated as we both know you are.”
Hermione sighed. He didn’t even leave her with the normal feminine attempts at rebellion. It would be no fun to do it if he already mentioned the idea ahead of time. Maybe she would hate the outfit whether it was nice or not, just to spite him.
Unfortunately, she could not possibly bring herself to hate his gift when it suddenly appeared on her bed after he had gone. She went over and tore into the wrappings expecting to be disappointed, but when she pulled out the most gorgeous velvet green gown she had ever seen she couldn’t help but gasp in awe. It was excruciatingly soft, and it slid over her skin like melted butter, clinging to her in just the right places.
“If he sees me in this thing he won’t stop kissing me all night,” she commented, half in complaint and half in the anticipation she didn’t want to have. She hated him more than ever even as she felt her body respond to the very notion. She had to admit, he knew what he was doing whether she wanted him to be doing it or not—damn the man!
She tried not to notice how handsome Lucius was in his own finery, which incidentally happened to be a perfect match to her own. The trimmings were also of the finest velvet, and the main coat was a lovely superfine reminiscent of fine gentlemen from bygone eras. He offered her his arm, and she knew it would be the height of rudeness to refuse, and contemplated doing so for almost ten seconds before she took it.
This man knew her much better than she had anticipated. When they arrived at the dining hall he set her beside him this time, and fed her morsels of delicious meats and cheeses while they waited for the main meal to arrive. Hermione almost giggled when he opened his mouth expectantly as he cast her a challenging gaze.
Giving in, she popped a piece of cheese into his mouth, and he captured her fingers momentarily with his lips, then let them go with a wicked grin.
“Stop it!” she complained, trying not to laugh when he opened his mouth again.
“I want meat, too,” he teased her, opening it even wider.
“Which meat, the meat on the plate, or the meat attached to me?”
“Both,” he said, grabbing her hand and bringing it back to his lips. He kissed each finger lightly, then turned her palm downward so he could kiss the back of her hand. “Do you intend to feed me, or must I starve? I do so hate to be left unsated, don’t you?”
“I—I wouldn’t know,” she admitted stoically.
“Yes, you would, little Mione,” he told her. “You have only ever been left unsated. That puppy of a Weasley certainly could not have been satisfactory.”
“He never—“
“Never?”
“No,” she admitted, blushing hotly.
“How very interesting,” Lucius said, pursing his lips like a cat who had just been served a bowl of cream. Hermione’s blush spread down her body as she realized he was still holding onto her hand. His fingers began to rub it softly as he reached for her other hand, drawing both hands together to his lips. “My goodness, you do know how to stoke a man’s inner fires, don’t you? I did not think I would be getting that prize as well.”
“Please stop talking about it,” she pleaded softly, her eyes downcast.
“Hermione, never feel the need to be embarrassed by your desires,” he told her as he turned her face back up to his. “Between us, there will be no need.”
“I don’t—“ she began.
“Don’t desire me?” he chuckled. “When your pulse is racing so very fast? Maybe it’s just that you want me to kiss you again, do you think that could be the cause?”
“N—“ she began, but stopped when his lips came down on hers. His tongue flicked across her lips, and when she gasped it swept into her mouth, tangling with her own. His hands, which had been holding hers, now slid down her arms and pulled her closer before each slid down along the side of a breast, leaving her breathless as they lingered there, then slid down to encircle her waist.
“Oh, yes,” he whispered into her mouth. “Say yes, Hermione.”
His commanding tone irritated her for a moment, but as he continued his kisses her ire turned to liquid and rolled away, leaving nothing but heat in its place. She felt like she was about to melt right into him when he said, “Say yes,” again, as soft as butter melting in her mouth
“Yes,” she whispered, making him groan in response.
“Did you wish for me to wait on serving your dinner, sir?” asked the house elf who had arrived with the food.
“Not at all, Corgan,” he said smoothly as he let Hermione go. “I do believe your mistress and I are feeling quite hungry this evening.”
“As you wish, Master,” he said, and placed the tray on the table so he could serve them. “I have prepared a feast, sir, just as you asked.
“Good,” Lucius said. “You may begin.”
By the time they’d finished their five course meal, Hermione thought she was going to burst at the seams. Every dish was more wonderful than the last, and she had begrudgingly admitted to herself that perhaps it was not such a bad thing, being here.
After all, she hadn’t the slightest idea what she had wanted to do when she’d left Harry’s yesterday, so it wasn’t as if she’d been taken away from anything important. And Lucius wasn’t being his usual, cruel self, either.
Hermione slapped her face mentally at this thought. Snap out of it, she told herself. This is Lucius Malfoy, a Muggle-hating Death Eater. You’re going to let a couple kisses make you forget that? No matter how hot a kisser the man was, she needed to remember that they were enemies, and always would be.
“Shall I tuck you into bed tonight, Hermione?” he asked her as he took her hand and helped her to her feet.
“No, I think I need to be alone,” she answered, trying to pull away.
“Ah, back to the game already, I see,” he said. “No matter, my dear. I do so enjoy the hunt. It makes the victory much sweeter.”
“Good night, Lucius,” she said softly, and headed for her room.
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