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"Mistress?" said a decidedly feminine voice the next morning as Hermione opened her eyes. She rolled over and saw a pretty little house elf watching her with a soft smile. "I'm sorry to disturb you while you are sleeping, but Master has sent me to tell you he won't be able to join you for breakfast this morning."
Hermione stretched languidly and sat up, deciding that she would like to bathe. The little elf followed in her wake, and inquired, "Would you like me to bring you something to eat, Mistress?"
"Not yet, I think I'd like to clean up first," Hermione said. "Do you have a name?"
"Millie, Mistress," she answered with a smile.
"Well, Millie, I shall call you when I'm done," she told her with a smile.
"Very good, Mistress," she said. "Oh, and I do believe the Master has left a few books for you on your nightstand, when you have need of them."
"Thank you, Millie," she said, half tempted to abandon her current plan just to see what he considered good reading material. But, refusing to be so manipulated,
she pulled the satin nightgown she'd found on her bed over her head and tossed it aside. She stepped into the claw foot tub and let the hot water pour in, covering
her body slowly as the basin filled up.
It was almost heavenly, she thought as she laid there. It seemed like ages since she'd gotten to take a good, long bath.
When she got out of the tub, Hermione took her time toweling herself off. Her bathroom had a rather large mirror above two sinks, and she began to suspect that she
had been placed in the master suite or some elaborate guest room simply because of the sumptuous nature of this room. It even had a little sitting area near a huge
picture window that looked out over a crystal blue lake.
Hermione pulled on new underwear--which were sleek green satin and black lace and made her feel decidedly decadent-and her jeans and T-shirt. Then she plopped down on her bed and crawled across it to the nightstand to see what she would find there.
Her eyes practically popped right out of her head. Sitting there were three of the most naughty pieces of literature she had ever seen. The first was called "Erotic Visions", the second was called "Tasty", and the last, most scandalous of them all, was entitled "Sexploits of a Randy Wizard". She dropped them back onto the little table in horror, and turned quickly away.
What was Lucius playing at, giving her those? she wondered, already feeling aroused over that last title more than she cared to admit. Maybe that had been his intention, she thought wildly. He wanted to get her all hot and bothered so it would be easier to seduce her--no, not yet, she amended. He didn't want that until they were married. He just wanted her hot with anticipation.
She resolved that if it was the last thing she did, she was not going to pick up that book about the randy wizard and his sexploits. She called for Millie and the little house elf showed up with a breakfast of eggs and sausages, and a tall glass of pumpkin juice to wash it down. Hermione ate every bite of the food, then lay on the bed with her hands behind her head.
Maybe just the Table of Contents?
Her eyes darted toward the books, then quickly away again. She did not move a muscle for a good half hour before suddenly finding the book in her hand and her eyes roving over the contents with avid interest. She spotted a wholly tempting chapter and could not help herself as she turned to have a look. Damned man, he probably put a charm on this book to get her to read it, knowing him.
"The pounding surf undulated around their naked bodies as Merlin tossed the sexy nymph down onto the beach and ravished her with his tongue. He tasted every part of her, from head to toe, but came back, of course, to the tastiest part of all. Lyrica writhed in wanton abandon as his tongue delved into her hot, moist hole, leaving her breathless with desire. 'Take me now, Merlin! Give me the cock I crave!' she begged him then. The randy wizard above her was more than willing to comply--"
"I hate him!" Hermione growled low, her own loins aching nearly as much as the tasty nymph in the book's had done. She laid back on the bed as she continued to read, her other hand absently sliding down to her heated flesh beneath her jeans.
Millie popped in, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Um, Mistress? I hate to interrupt, but the Master was very explicit about you doing--that.
He does not wish for you to--um-enjoy such things unless he is there to aid you."
"Oh, really?" Hermione said with a wicked gleam in her eye. She resolved that if he wasn't going to let her have any fun, she was going to make him want to have fun and not give it to him, too.
"You know, Mistress, it's not so bad living here," Millie told her with an encouraging smile. "The Master isn't a bad man. He was always a quiet, studious boy, and has always loved to be outdoors, though his job at the Ministry often keeps him from it. His marriage was arranged, and it was never a love match. Once Master Draco went away to school the two barely spoke to each other, and it's been years since he has touched a woman. But I must tell you something he would not wish for you to know, Mistress, if you will allow?"
"Go on," Hermione encouraged the elf as she sat up to hear it.
"About a year ago, I accidentally found Master doing--well, that--" she said, indicating Hermione's hand that had recently been wandering. "He was just finishing the task, and he called out a name. It wasn't hers."
Hermione eyed Millie shrewdly, and even though she was fairly certain she knew the answer, she asked, "Whose name was it?"
"He called out Hermione, Mistress," she said with a small, almost sad smile. "Is that not your name?"
"Yes, it is," Hermione answered in a soft whisper.
She couldn't help but visualize Lucius at that point, his face strained with the throes of passion, and her name on his lips. She couldn't help but visualize his stroking hand and the spurt of wet, hot desire covering it. She hated herself for it, but she wanted him to spurt that liquid deep inside her as he lost control complete, calling out with her name on his lips as her deepest core clenched tightly around him.
"Damn," she muttered, and began to pace between the window and her bedroom door. She was in such a state of confusion that she didn't even realize precisely when the man who had caused all her turmoil had come in.
"Hermione, we must talk," he said as he took her hand to stop her pacing. He looked worried about something, she noticed, and so she gave him her full attention.
"Harry Potter is downstairs, my dear, and he wants to see you, to make certain you are all right," said Lucius as he grasped the snake's head on the top of his walking stick a bit more tightly than usual.
"Harry?" she asked excitedly.
"But I must tell you, before you do anything rash, that I meant what I said in the Forbidden Forest," he said, turning her face up to look at
him. "I will marry you, whether you like it or not. Nobody knows that Potter is here, or that we even spoke at all. If you tell him anything to make him think you do not want to be my wife, I fear I will have to do the thing that Voldemort could not. You would not want me to say those two little words, I trust?"
Hermione swallowed hard, and said, "No, of course not."
"Good," he said. "Then come with me. He is waiting in the parlor. We will present ourselves as a blissfully happy couple, will we not?"
"No, that would be too much of a stretch for him to believe," she said. "But I will make it clear to him that I'm not here against my wishes--whether it's true or not."
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