Hermione walked along the lighted pathway and drew her coat closer to her. All along the cobblestone path on either side were Christmas decorations depicting reindeer, various snowmen, elves, and presents. There were stars and angels in the oak trees. And there were the traditional Christmas trees, too.

Thankfully it wasn't snowing at the moment. However, the fresh frosting of snow on the ground was proof enough that it had been snowing on and off. Not that Hermione hadn't already been caught in it throughout the day.

When the Ministry put out a notice that they were going to turn the botanical gardens into a winter wonderland for the duration of the Christmas season, Hermione had been thrilled. She'd always loved Christmas lights. She convinced "the boys", Harry and Ron, to join her and they invited their significant others. Hermione and Ron had dated for a bit shortly after the war, but the sparks had died not long after they had been ignited. They parted as friends, and remained friends to this day, ten years after the war. Unfortunately, Hermione feared she lost her friends. She honestly had no idea where Harry or Ron were. No doubt they managed to sneak off with their mates for some… Hermione shook her head. She had no desire to imagine what they could be doing.

She turned a corner and was momentarily dazzled by the archways of white Christmas lights forming a covered walkway into a large gazebo. She could barely make out a white piano sitting inside the gazebo with a few rows of empty chairs in front of it. She could hear music from the piano, though she didn't really see anyone there, not even the musician. That didn't surprise her. It was getting late.

Curiosity drew her closer to the sound, for the music was beautiful. A smile played on her lips and, though it was cold, she felt herself pick up her pace. There was even a little dance in her step and she giggled at the silliness of it. Christmas music always had that effect on her. It simply lifted her spirits and warmed her heart.

There were steps that led up to the gazebo with silver garland covered railing. She was careful to watch her step as she climbed the stairs and entered the gazebo. She glanced around it in awe. Tinsel and holly decorated the gazebo and white Christmas lights brightened the gazebo. She was right that no one was there, aside from herself and the pianist. As her eyes fell to the pianist, she froze.

Dressed to the nines, as only he would, none other than Lucius Malfoy sat primly before the piano, engrossed with the music he was playing. His long hair was pulled back in a black silk ribbon. Hermione found herself entranced and she sat quietly in one of the chairs.

The last time she had seen Lucius Malfoy had been when he had exited the Ministry about five years prior. Though she didn't know the specifics, she knew Narcissa had died a few weeks before. She tried to learn what had caused him to go to the Ministry, for he certainly hadn't been welcomed, despite all he had done to rebuild his ruined reputation, though many thought the contributions were reparations and of Narcissa's doing. Surprisingly, Hermione had been unsuccessful. To this day, the man remained a mystery.

She didn't know why she even cared. In fact, she denied caring at all. But the years melted away her denial. And Lucius continued to do so much, even without Narcissa guiding his quill to cheque. Instead of working against the Ministry, he had donated to, shockingly, beneficial things, like rebuilding the school and repairing places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. He even gave money to St. Mungo's and, from what Hermione knew, often would visit to check on the progress of the terminally ill.

She knew, too, that Draco had married and was working on his own reputation. He was a family man now, taking care of his wife and infant. From what Hermione knew, he stayed out of the limelight and didn't have a job. Not that he needed one.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I did not see you enter," Lucius said, startling the girl.

She jumped and gave a nervous chuckle. When did he stop playing? "Yes, sorry," she replied. "I couldn't help myself. I heard the music and had to see."

He nodded. "Is there a particular song you would like to hear?" he asked.

She blinked. He was being… cordial to her? To her? "Um…" she bit her lip. "I don't really know many Wizarding Christmas songs," she admitted apologetically.

He gave another nod and began playing a melody, though he did not turn his gaze from her. She was captivated. Her eyes widened suddenly as she recognized the melody. "Christmas Canon!" she whispered, her jaw dropping.

He simply raised an eyebrow and continued to play the song. Neither said a word to the other and eventually he glanced down at the keys as he continued the song. She could hear other instruments playing, but glancing around, she saw only the two of them. Her eyes fell back on him and she found that she just couldn't look away anymore. In this moment, he wasn't the intimidating aristocratic Pureblood bigot she remembered from childhood. He was just a man playing a song on a piano in the middle of a wintry paradise.

When he finished, she clapped and smiled cheerily at him. "That was beautiful," she said breathlessly.

"You recognized the song," he observed.

She nodded. "Christmas Canon. Usually it's played by an orchestra. I'm surprised you know it yourself. It is a Muggle song."

He scoffed. "Hardly," he huffed. "Though I do not doubt your words, madam, it's been a Wizard song for decades and is not called 'Christmas Canon'."

"Then, pray tell, what is it called?" she questioned, both curious and amused.

"'Merry Christmas'," he said.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Mr. Malfoy," she returned with a smile.

He shook his head. "No, Miss Granger. The song is called 'Merry Christmas'. Usually there is a choir of children who sing along with the song. There is also this one," he said as he ran his fingers over the keys again.

"Carol of the Bells!" she said, delighted. "It's my favorite Christmas song."

He frowned as he stopped playing. "Is that what the Muggles call it?" he asked.

She smirked. "I take it we call it something else?" she guessed.

"'Seven Sea Serpents'," he told her.

She wrinkled her nose and chuckled. "That doesn't make sense," she said. "I mean, what are the lyrics."

"Lyrics?" he asked. He shook his head. "Not every song you hear needs lyrics."

"The Muggle version has lyrics," she pointed out.

"Then the music must be lacking in quality," he surmised as he lowered the cover over the keys.

Hermione frowned and stood when he did. She could see he was leaving. Lucius picked up his gloves and slipped them back onto his hands and then donned his cloak, fastening the silver serpent brooch. As he lifted his cane, she rolled her eyes and followed him. "Lyrics do not lower the quality of a musical piece. If anything, they amplify them."

He paused and turned to look at her. "Seven Sea Serpents is a musical piece that had been composed by the great Mykola Leontovych. It isn't played with words, but is rather a part of a ballet," he explained.

"Mykola Leontovych? He was the Muggle composer who had written the song," she said, her brow furrowing.

Lucius scoffed. "I do believe we've already established that he was not a Muggle," he commented. "He was very much a wizard and lived in the Ukraine. In fact, my grandfather knew him personally and often commissioned him to perform in the Manor."

"Your grandfather? Why not your father?" she asked, feeling a bit smug.

He glanced at her curiously and raised a brow. "How old do you think I am? My father was a mere toddler when Leontovych died," he said. He paused again and turned to her.

It was already cold, so she blamed the weather on her rosy cheeks and took a deep breath. "My apologies," she said, looking a bit contrite. "The aging process is so different between wizards and Muggles that I suppose I just assumed you were… older than you look."

"I am not a man who repeats himself, Miss Granger," he pointed out. "How old are your parents?"

"Mid fifties?" she answered, looking at him curiously.

"And your grandparents?" he continued as he folded his arms, holding his cane aloft.

She frowned again. "In their… 70s," she said. She mentally did the math and closed her eyes. After a moment's hesitation, she said, "In my defense, it's cold out here and my mind is still reeling from what I heard in there." She looked up at him. "You play so well, Mr. Malfoy."

"I am glad I've met your approval," he replied. "If you don't mind, Miss Granger, it is getting late and I do believe they will be closing the gardens soon. If you want to continue this discussion, I do believe there is a cafe up the road that is open where we can sit and talk. Or we can Apparate to the Manor."

She looked around. "Harry and Ron should be around here somewhere. I was supposed to be looking for them when I became sidetracked."

"Then perhaps you should continue your search. Good night, Miss Granger," he said as he turned to leave.

She glanced back at his retreating form. Was he upset? The tone of his voice had indicated as much. Harry and Ron were probably already gone. Those two weren't too fond of Christmas lights and they were so wrapped up in their mates anyway.

After a final moment of indecision, Hermione hurried to catch up to Lucius. "Mr. Malfoy, wait," she called as she trotted along the path.

He glanced back at her and waited for her to walk up alongside him. "They're probably already gone," she reasoned. "Ron hates snow and Harry had been complaining about the cold earlier. Personally, I could use a cup of hot cocoa myself. I mean… The cafe is right up the road after all."

He gave a slight nod and offered her his arm. "Then, come," he said.

Hermione blinked at the surrealness of the moment as she slipped her hand onto his arm. She was walking side by side, arm in arm, with Lucius Malfoy. The last person she had ever thought she'd exchange two sentences much less an entire conversation with. "Honestly, Mr. Malfoy, I was right about the aging process between Muggles and wizards. You don't even look as though you've yet to touch fifty."

He gave a short chuckle through his nose. "I appreciate the compliment, Miss Granger, though I do believe that has more to do with genetics and less to do with magical ability. Severus Snape was a good five years younger than me and oftentimes people, including Severus himself, believed that he was older."

She laughed at that. "Well, in all fairness, you do take better care of your hair than he ever did," she pointed out.

"Again. Genetics. The Princes were known for their lank, oily hair. Though Madam Prince had tried to create potions to correct the situation, she failed spectacularly at it," he explained. "I believe when she passed, her hair had been permanently dyed blue, what was left of it."

"And yet Professor Snape was such a master of potions," Hermione mused.

"That he was, my dear," he agreed as he led her to a small cafe in the downtown parts of Diagon Alley. He opened the door and allowed her to enter first, his hand falling, respectfully, to her lower back.

Hermione glanced around, finding a table that seemed a bit more private, tucked away as it were, in a corner of the diner. The entire evening had taken such a dramatic turn and she was curious to see what would happen next. As they approached the designated table, Lucius helped her out of her coat and handed it to the waitress. He pulled a seat out for her and, once she was seated, pushed it closer to the table. It was then his turn to divest himself of his cloak and gloves.

To her surprise, Lucius took the seat next to her and reached over to pick up one of the menus that was positioned against the wall. Hermione didn't know how to think or feel. As it were, she was situated between the wall and… him. She gave him a wary smile and took one of the menus herself, burying her face behind the menu.

"Do I make you nervous, Miss Granger?" he asked.

She glanced up to see that he wasn't even bothering to look at her. Instead, he kept his eyes firmly on the menu. "Not at all," she answered, feigning confidence. Like hell was she going to show him any sort of weakness.

"You're a terrible liar," he told her as he glanced up at her. At her gasp, he simply raised an eyebrow in challenge and turned back to his menu.

"What can I get for you?" came the voice of the waitress.

Lucius glanced at Hermione and smirked."Perhaps a bit of liquid courage will help my young companion here. May I see your wine list, please?" he asked politely.

Hermione's eyebrows raised at the sound of Lucius Malfoy being polite, however as the waitress left to retrieve a wine menu, she glanced at Lucius. "Trying to make me inebriated, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked coyly.

"If a simple glass of wine is all it takes, my dear, we will have to work on your alcohol tolerance more," he commented.

She laughed. "I never pegged you for one to have a sense of humor. What an interesting thing to learn about you!"

"There's a lot of things you would probably never… peg on me," he replied, using her own words. His eyes darkened as they met hers. "If you like, I could teach you."

The innuendo was as clear as the silver in his eyes. The air around her suddenly became much warmer and she felt the pit of her stomach flip over. Unsure of what to say at the moment, she glanced about for the waitress. "I think I will take you up on that drink," she murmured.

He watched her for a bit before turning back to his menu. He hummed to himself in thought. "Do you like oysters, Miss Granger?" he asked, not looking up.

The waitress returned with the wine menu and Lucius perused it. "Might I recommend Picpoul de Pinet?" she questioned, looking at Lucius. "Or the Muscadet? If you plan on ordering oysters, that is."

Lucius pointed to a word on the menu and showed it to the waitress. "Is that seriously the best Chablis you have?" he asked disdainfully.

"I'm not sure, but I believe so," she told him. "I could ask my manager?"

"Do so, then," he said as he handed her back the wine menu. He glanced at Hermione. "Well, Miss Granger? Did you find something appetizing?"

She had been staring at him since his comment. Quickly she dropped her gaze back to her menu. "Um… oysters are ok, but I prefer something a little less… um... slimy," she replied. "Maybe some chicken? With some st-steamed asparagus?"

He smirked at her, his eyes dancing in amusement. "Feeling flustered, my dear?" he asked.

"It's the cold," she fibbed. "My cheeks and nose always get red when it's cold outside and we have been walking in it."

He was clearly enjoying himself too much. He glanced up at the waitress and nodded. "She'll have the baked chicken with steamed asparagus and I will have some oysters."

"Yes, sir, and I shall inform my manager of your wine request. Shall I bring you some water to start?"

He gave her another nod and began to drum his fingers, waiting for her to leave.

Maybe leaving with Lucius Malfoy wasn't such a good idea, Hermione thought to herself. She had been so captivated by his talent with the piano and fascinated by his knowledge of music that she had managed to become truly lost in him. It didn't help that he was just as handsome as the day she had met him. Actually, she could argue he was even more handsome given all the philanthropic work he had been doing.

She swallowed passed the lump in her throat as he turned his attention back to her. Oh how she could melt within those molten silver eyes. She didn't even know what attracted her so much to him, but she wanted to just lean into him and breathe in his scent, he smelled so good. She stopped suddenly. What was she thinking?! This was Lucius-freaking-Malfoy! He may be handsome, but she couldn't forget all the horrible things he had done in the past. Or, at least, she wasn't supposed to forget…

She glanced up and noticed he was staring at her, almost as if waiting for her to say something. Two glasses of water sat on the table, though she didn't remember seeing the waitress return yet. Her brow wrinkled. "I'm sorry. Did you say something?" she asked, looking at him contritely.

A smile played on his lips, which odd to her. When did he ever smile? She wasn't even aware he was capable of it. "You are a very amusing woman, Miss Granger. Tell me, are you still pondering over my offer or are you seriously thinking of the question I just asked you?"

"I didn't hear the question. Could you repeat it?" she asked, frowning.

"I detest repeating myself," he drawled with a slight sneer. "However I will give you a pass this evening. I asked if you enjoyed the festivities in the garden."

"Oh! Yes, I did," she replied, smiling a bit. Maybe if she smiled more, he would too? He looked so handsome when he smiled. "I love this time of year with all the tinsel and holly and lights. I was so excited when the Ministry decided to turn the botanical gardens into a winter wonderland. What about you?"

He gave a small, one shouldered shrug. "Astoria was performing in that gazebo earlier. I went to support her and to look at what my contributions created," he explained.

She tilted her head. "Astoria was performing?" she questioned, confused.

He nodded. "She's a violinist in her spare time," he told her. "She often plays in the Manor, but she was given a special request by the Minister himself. Given the state of our family reputation, she could hardly pass up the opportunity."

She picked up her glass of water and took a sip from it. "It's been ten years, hasn't it? Surely with all the philanthropy you've done you've made some progress in correcting your sins of the past?" she asked.

"Philanthropy helps, yes," he admitted. "However, it is hardly enough. Money can make many people forget, but not all. Even now, if I want to traverse anywhere it is best when I do so in the evening or, at the very least, make myself inconspicuous."

"Is that why you invited me here tonight? Only, I've never known you to converse or entertain anyone of… my kind," she commented.

"Your kind? Do you mean Muggleborn?" he inquired. At her nod of affirmation, he quirked a brow. "Surprisingly, my dear, your blood didn't even cross my mind. And if I remember correctly, you were the one to approach me."

Hermione sighed. "In my defense, you were playing beautifully. You seemed so at peace when you played I was just… stunned," she told him as she leaned back in her chair.

"After the war I had one of two options. Either drown myself in alcohol or focus on playing the piano," he said, taking a sip of his own water.

They paused as the waitress returned with a bottle of wine. "My manager wished you to have this, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "It's from his private collection."

Lucius looked at the bottle and nodded. "I believe that will suffice. Thank you," he said.

The wine was poured and, shortly thereafter, the food was brought to the table. They ate in silence. As Hermione took a sip of her wine, she felt Lucius's hand rest absently upon the top of her thigh. She glanced down at it and leaned closer to him. "Mr. Malfoy, your hand is on my thigh," she whispered.

In response, he gave her thigh a squeeze. Dabbing his mouth with his napkin, he turned to whisper in her ear, "You are wearing entirely too many layers, my dear. We should rectify this problem."

The feel of his hot breath against her ear made her melt. The moment he had sat beside her, she knew that this was the direction the evening would be going and she wasn't disappointed in it. However, "You do know I am only a year older than your son. We were in the same year for our entire tenure at Hogwarts," she whispered back to him.

He paused in his process of running his fingers along the stitching of her jeans. Looking at her, he asked softly, "Is this a problem for you? You may be just a year older than my son, but last I checked that still made you an adult. However, if you wish me to stop…"

As he began to draw his hand away, she dropped her own hand over his and grasped it. They stared at one another, gazing into each other's eyes. His silver eyes were like a storm, darkened by lust and need. Hermione knew that this moment would be the deciding factor of what would happen next. It had been so long since she had felt the touch of a man's hands on her body, the taste of his lips, and the feel of his weight atop her. The look in Lucius's eyes promised all those things and more.

She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Don't stop," she breathed and she felt herself internally crashing.

His lips smiled softly and he whispered into her ear again, "If you like, we can skip the dessert and Apparate to the Manor."

She looked at him coyly. "I wasn't aware dessert would be involved in this evening," she teased.

His lips brushed against hers, though they did not touch. "I believe this evening calls for a different sort of dessert, don't you?" he asked tauntingly.

He pulled away from her and took another sip of his drink while she tried to get her bearings back. She didn't know if she was drunk or simply turned on, but she wanted him. So badly. She frowned. "I can accept that I was the one to approach you," she told him. "I can even admit that I followed you out of the gardens and accepted your invitation to come here to eat. But… I'm a Muggleborn. Are you seriously ok with someone seeing you leave with someone like me?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Are you always this self-degrading?" he asked. "You're intelligent, entertaining, magical, and beautiful. I am unaware that I need any other reason. If you worry about someone seeing you with an older man, I can assure you that the worst that will happen is people will become green with envy, for I am the richest, most sought after widower in all of Britain."

"Conceited, too," she pointed out with a smirk.

She had forgotten his hand was on her thigh and sucked in a sharp breath when he squeezed hard. "Is it conceit or is it merely just stating a truth?" he asked. He released her thigh and stood.

"And what does the richest, most eligible widower in all of Great Britain want with me?" she pressed as she stood as well.

He paused in the process of slipping on his gloves and looked at her. "At the moment?"

He finished putting his gloves on and, snaking an arm around her waist, pulled her to him. He pressed his face against her hair and dipping his head so his lips kissed her ear, he whispered, "To find out exactly how wet you are for me."

Her heart clenched as the heat of his words went straight to her groin. She closed her eyes and shuddered, leaning into him. As he moved away, she began to fall and her eyes snapped open. He opened his arms as she scuffed her shoes trying to catch herself. He caught her easily and held her in his arms.

"Sorry," she said as she righted herself and straightened her clothing.

He offered her his arm again. "It may be best if you stayed close to me," he surmised.

"You're enjoying this far too much," she said.

He shrugged and led her out of the diner.

(II)(II)

It had been years since Hermione had stepped foot in Malfoy Manor and the last time, the only time, she had been there, she had been tortured on the floor of the drawing room by a madwoman. As Lucius helped her out of her cloak, she felt old fears begin to resurface. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and tried to stamp them down.

Bellatrix was dead. Voldemort was dead. Harry had won. There was nothing in this Manor that would hurt her. At least, she didn't think there was. But Lucius had been a Death Eater and one of Voldemort's largest supporters. He had defected. He had run onto the battlefield wandless and deep in enemy territory to search for his son. That showed a bravery Hermione had never guessed the Malfoy patriarch to have. Right after the war, he began painstakingly donating to causes that would help rebuild their world after the destruction Voldemort wrought, though many believed that was Narcissa's doing. He continued after her death and had even started to become actively involved.

If Lucius Malfoy had wanted to hurt her, he'd had ample opportunity to do so. Hermione turned in place and looked at him as he took off his own cloak and gloves and hung them in the cloak room.

He was so handsome. And he looked as though he hadn't aged a day since the war. If anything, it was almost as if he had grown a bit younger and looked as lively as he had when she first met him.

"Normally I would offer my guest a nightcap in the drawing room," he told her as he turned his attention to her. "However, I feel as though that would be inappropriate considering our history. Would you, instead, like to join me in my music room for a nightcap where we can… continue our discussion?"

"You mean, 'have sex'?" she surmised, though she had to hand it to him. He was being far more courteous than she had ever known him to be.

His brow furrowed. "Is that what you would like to do?" he asked.

"Isn't that why we came here?" she countered. Her nerves were churning her stomach and she could swear her heart was pounding loud enough for him to hear. She forced herself to maintain eye contact, though she wanted to hide her face in embarrassment. Had she read him wrong?

She froze as he drew closer to her and slipped his hand around her waist. He pulled her flush against him and she could feel his hard desire against her body. "It is," he replied as he bent down and captured her lips with his.

Her hands fisted themselves against his chest as he grabbed her ass and dug his covered dick into her. His kiss was strong and, when she opened her mouth, his tongue plunged inside, tasting and drinking her. She returned his kiss with as much fervor and lifted her arms to wrap around his neck. He cupped the back of her knees and walked forward, lifting her just enough to not drag her across the floor.

She felt him push her against a wall and lift her higher. She took the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist and he moaned against her lips as he pressed himself more firmly against her. They were panting when he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. "Tell me you're not a virgin," he said.

She smiled against his lips. "I'm not a virgin," she assured him.

"Good," he told her.

Holding her in his arms, he carried her the rest of the way to his music room. She tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear for him. "Though, I will say that it has been a while since I've been with anyone," she admitted.

She was surprised at the intensity in his eyes. "Good," he repeated. "It's been a while for me as well and I don't share."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Surely this was a dream? God she hoped, if it was, she wouldn't wake up. "Neither do I," she replied.

He kissed her again and entered the music room. Using his foot to close the door behind him, he brought her to the couch and followed her onto it, his large bulk easily covering her. She had missed this so much. This feel of a man, warm and heavy on top of her. She writhed under him, arching her back and tugging at his waistcoat.

"It's too hot," she murmured, trying to divest both of them of clothing.

"You're the one who wore trousers," he pointed out as he fondled the buttons on her blouse.

She huffed. "So did you," she accused as she unbuttoned his waistcoat and tugged it down.

Grabbing the offending object, Lucius tore the waistcoat off and, sitting up, he made quick work of his dress shirt as well and unbuttoned his trousers. He didn't take them off, though. Instead, he bent down and began kissing her again, like a man starved. Frustrated, he ripped her blouse opened.

She made a small, depressed noise. "Lucius, I loved that blouse," she protested.

"I'll get you a new one," he promised as he revealed her bra. He took a moment to simply gaze at her. Reaching behind her, he unclasped the bra and pulled it off. A smile played on his lips as he cupped one of her breasts. "Perfect," he breathed.

She rolled her eyes and smirked. "Hardly," she said.

His eyes roved over her body, following his hand. "Don't ever doubt your worth, pet," he told her as he kissed her gently. "You are perfect."

The mere idea of Lucius ever saying anything remotely like that to her caused her to physically pinch herself. "Ow!" she hissed.

He looked at her curiously. "What?" he asked.

She blinked. It was real. It wasn't a dream. Her lips parted in amazement. "Nothing," she whispered.

He lifted a brow and kissed her. She fell into the kiss in wonder. This handsome, multi-billionaire Pureblood really thought she was perfect? She lost track of her thoughts after that, though, when his lips moved to her breast and his fingers ran over the hem of her denims.

Annoyed, he broke away from her and sat up again. "Remove these infernal things," he ordered. "Now."

Normally Hermione hated to be ordered about but there was something in his tone of voice that made her, if possible, wetter. Without thought, she was quick to follow his command, standing up and pulling her denims over her hips to let them fall, forgotten, to the floor.

His face softened as he gently took her hand and pulled her to him again. "Good girl," he praised softly.

She reveled in the praise, though she did not really understand why. As his lips ghosted over her midriff, she bit her lip. Her hands went into his hair, gently massaging his head as he licked and caressed her body. Laying her down onto the couch, he hooked his fingers under the hem of her knickers and pulled them off. She was so glad she had thought to groom herself properly before going to the gardens.

His eyes drooped appreciatively as his fingers swept over her entrance. Leaning down over her, he whispered into her ear, "So wet for me."

Her hips moved of their own accord as they sought more of his fingers. "Please," she breathed as he began to rhymitically stroke her pussy.

He smirked up at her as he positioned his face above her entrance. His eyes closed as his lips parted. "You smell divine," he said softly. He licked the length of her pussy and her hips jerked. He chuckled. "Did you like that, my dear?" he teased.

"Yes," she panted.

He dipped his head and started licking her more, his tongue teasing her entrance as he drank her. Hermione's hands clutched at his hair, unable to let go, as she moaned and groaned at his touch.

"Come for me, pet," he ordered, his breathe hot and wet against her quim.

She's never considered herself submissive before, but something about the way Lucius dominated and demanded drove her ever closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. Within seconds, she did exactly as he commanded and her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt bliss. He lapped up her juices as though he was thirsty.

As she felt herself begin to fall asleep, he gently untangled her hands from his hair and rose up above her. "We're not done, darling," he said, pulling her back from her mind.

His eyes were hooded and dark, his lips and chin were moist. As he kissed her, she could taste herself, but she didn't care. She felt him open his trousers more. Breaking their kiss, she glanced down to see his cock. It was much larger than she had expected it to be, not that she had ever envisioned what his cock would look like before. She looked up at him as he kissed her and positioned himself at her entrance.

Her eyes widened as he entered her. They both sighed once he was fully inside her. "Wait a moment, please," she asked. She hadn't realized just how long it had been since she had been with someone.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he met her eyes. "You said you weren't a virgin," he reminded her. "And yet, you're so tight."

"And I said it had been a while," she replied. "I need a moment to adjust. You're also much larger than my last boyfriend."

He thrust inside her and she gasped. "That's what happens when you bother yourself with boys. But we will correct that now," he told her. "Are you… adjusted now?"

She took a few breaths to calm herself. Closing her eyes, she willed her body to accept this new intrusion.

"Hermione."

Shocked at hearing her name from his mouth, her eyes flew open and she stared at him in wonder. She never thought her name could sound so… sexy. She nodded. "Yes."

"Don't close your eyes," he warned. "Understood?"

She smiled at him coyly. "Are you going to spank me if I do?" she taunted.

There was a subtle lift of his brow as lightning shot through his eyes. She realized in that moment that he would probably do just that. She had meant it to be a joke, and she wasn't sure how she felt about actually partaking in something like that, but the look in his eyes promised that she wouldn't have much choice if she disobeyed. She gave another nod to show her compliance and their eyes locked onto one another as he began moving.

The sex had started out slow, but soon, very soon, he was pounding into her hard and fast. He held her legs above his head as he thrust into her and it was all she could do just to hold on. Her moans were timed with his thrust. It really had been a while since she'd had sex and he wasn't gentle. As his pace quickened, her moans became shouts.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her and helped her to stand. "Turn around and place your hands on the top of the couch," he ordered.

As she did so, he pressed a hand on her back and turned her hips towards him. "Spread your legs," he said and when she did so, he thrust his cock back into her dripping quim.

"Oh, God!" she moaned as he filled her up again.

Not only was his cock reaching deeper inside her, but he was moving faster, too. She shook her hips and leaned against the couch as he fucked her into it. His hands reached around and grabbed her breasts, squeezing and pulling on them as his pace quickened.

"Fuck!" he snarled as his hands fell to her hips and gripped her hard. "Fuck!"

He stopped moving as his hot cum filled her body. It felt so good and she moved her hips, milking him. He hovered over her, catching his breath. As his cock emptied, it slipped out of her body. He sighed as he moved to sit on the couch and pulled her onto his lap.

She had never thought Lucius would be a cuddler, but she certainly wasn't going to complain. It felt nice to be held after sex for once. To bask in the afterglow.

"It's been a while for me, too, apparently," he admitted through his pants. "Let me rest and we can go again."

She looked up at him in surprise. "Again?"

He cupped her cheek. "You didn't think we were done, did you?"

(III)(III)

Hermione had lost count of how many times they had sex that night. The next morning, she woke up in his bed. His arm was draped over her body and she turned to look at him.

He was angelic in his sleep, though she could see the lines of worry and age on his brow. There were laugh lines, too, surprisingly, about his lips and eyes. None of those detracted from his physical appearance, though. If anything, they only added to it.

She tried to carefully slip out from under him only to have him suddenly tighten his hold on her. "I just have to use the loo," she said softly.

He sighed. "Hurry back," he told her as he loosened his grip.

She nodded, though his closed eyes told her that he didn't see. "I will," she whispered as she slipped from under him and quickly went to the bedroom's bathroom.

She turned on the light and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes widened. Her hair was atrocious and she probably should have cleaned her face before bed because her makeup made it seem as though she had been beaten up. She studied her reflection and noticed to hand marks on either side of her hips. He had been a hell of a lot rougher than she had expected, but man had it felt good.

She did her business and washed her hands. Seeing some mouthwash by the sink she decided to take a mouthful of it. Surely he wouldn't mind. A toothbrush would be nice, but this worked for the moment.

She patted her hair, not that it did much good, and dried her hands. Walking back into the bedroom, she saw him sitting up and reading a paper. He had a pair of spectacles sittiing upon the bridge of his nose, and the duvet was draped over his lap, effectively covering his bottom half.

"Though I do enjoy seeing you standing there, naked, before me, would you like to have some breakfast?" he asked, though he did not look up from his paper.

She unconsciously covered herself and walked closer to him. "Breakfast sounds lovely," she admitted. "But I think my clothes are still in the music room."

"Don't be absurd. I had them burned," he told her casually.

"What?"

He waved an absent hand at another door. "You'll find suitable clothing in there for now," he said as he turned a page. Finally, he looked at her. "We'll deal with that… nest later."

She put her hands on her hips. "Mr. Malfoy, you cannot invite young women to your house and then destroy their clothing like that!" she spat.

"I can if she is my lover and her clothes make her look like a Muggle peasant," he argued. "And you can call me Lucius if you like. Granted, you were already calling me that last night. Repeatedly. Between each moan."

She huffed and, rolling her eyes, she stormed to what turned out to be a wardrobe room.

"I managed to procure some tickets to the Ministry's Grand Christmas Charity gala tonight," he called to her as she dressed. "You are welcomed to join me."

She stepped out of the wardrobe and stared at him. It felt strange wearing another witch's robes. "I don't really feel comfortable wearing your late wife's garments," she admitted.

He looked at her. "Those did not belong to Narcissa," he assured her. "They look nice on you, though. Perhaps we could go shopping later. You will need an evening gown for the gala and I won't have you wearing anything that costs less than your annual salary."

"I already have a ticket to the Christmas gala. It comes with being a chief of staff in the Ministry," she pointed out.

"Will you attend with me?" he asked.

She paused. "Are you sure you want to be seen with someone like me? A… 'Mudblood'?" As much as she hated that word, his reaction to it surprised her.

His face twisted angrily. "You will never call yourself that again," he demanded as he climbed out of the bed and stood.

She nodded. "Of course," she answered. "But you didn't answer my question."

"I have no qualms with showing off the woman I intend to fuck tonight," he told her. "And every night for as long as she'll have me."

"So, last night wasn't a one-night stand?" she questioned.

His eyes narrowed. "No. I don't share. And I do not waste my time hunting various witches to satisfy a craving. Not when I have one waiting and willing," he explained. He tilted his head. "Unless you are opposed to having sex withe me again?"

Hermione was tempted to pinch herself again. "No," she replied. "I would be more than happy to… I mean…" She took a breath. "Yes, I would love to accompany you to the gala tonight. And, no, I am not opposed to sleeping with you again."

"Good girl," he responded with a half smile.

Weirdly enough, she was happy with how pleased he looked.

Author's Note: Many, many thanks to the wonderful Elle Morgan-Black. I needed someone to beta this quickly and she stepped up to the plate with no hesitation and even offered some much needed pointers! (Also, she made a cover art for me as well.)

This story was written for Strictly Lumione's Christmas Fest 2019.