Warning - Smut

xxx

The darkness was spreading.

Dumbledore had now been dead for exactly six months. Hogwarts was not a safe place for her anymore. As a muggleborn, she would become target practice for the Death Eaters that were now maskless and fearless of reproach.

No, as much as she craved the opportunity to be the brave Gryffindor she knew in her heart, the Order was right. She wouldn't last the week there as the best friend of Harry Potter.

With Voldemort becoming stronger, the darkness was becoming more prominent and more threatening with each day that passed.

She felt it in the air.

She felt lost and deserted by the world she loved.

It undoubtedly didn't help that her two best friends had left her behind. Harry and Ron were currently wandering all over the country searching for Voldemort's Horcruxes. They had decided that she would be safer away from the war. If she had any say, she would have fought for her right to fight. Fight for all muggleborns like her.

She wasn't in the room when the decision was made. It was made in her best interest they said.

"Stay safe and stay hidden Hermione. Please do that for us. We can't risk them finding you."

She knew it hadn't been their decision solely, but she couldn't help the resentment that had festered inside at their abandonment of her.

At least they had each other.

And well… she wasn't exactly alone.

She didn't know what to expect when Bill brought her to the safehouse.

It seemed that everyone had been correct in their assumptions of him. He knew the right people and exactly how to get exactly what he wanted when it suited him.

Arrogant prick.

After Dumbledore's death at the hands of Professor Snape, Voldemort ordered the execution of Lucius Malfoy for his son's failure, but when his followers arrived, his cell was mysteriously empty.

He was now one of the 'Undesirables' wanted by the new ministry.

It was the only thing they had in common. That and their current abode.

Of all the cruelties that life could throw at her, hiding away with this blood-supremacist was the harshest penalty.

In exchange for vital information on his fellow Death Eaters and locations of possible Horcruxes, the Order helped remove him from Azkaban in secret. The Order used the information to fight against Voldemort. There was no doubt in her mind that he only did this to save his own skin, and not because it was the right thing to do.

Cunning and selfish. A true Slytherin to the very bone.

When he found out she would be sharing the safehouse with him, he reacted as she would expect.

He laughed at first, thinking it a joke. But once Bill informed him that this was the only option, he flew off the rails in rage.

Mudblood this. Mudblood that. He ranted at them.

"You expect me to share this house with her?"

That was all she heard for days on end.

But she knew how to block out the noise, had plenty of practice from interactions with his son.

At the start, neither were happy in this situation, but at least they had separate rooms and unofficial corners in the small house. She prepared all her meals in the morning and ate in her room at the desired times. A simple reheating charm did the trick.

She let him have the kitchen. It was quite amusing hearing him trying to cook for himself. He wasn't burning himself as much now than at the start. A lifetime of house elves serving him had clearly left him without the basic skills an adult man should have.

He was useless without a wand.

That was the one condition of his stay from the Order.

Bill took it from him as the secret keeper for the house.

She still had hers but rarely used it. So far, she hadn't needed to brandish it at the man.

He could be well-behaved when he needed to be.

xxx

It was now two months into their stay.

As time went on, things began to change between them.

She wouldn't say he was nice to her, but he was occasionally polite in passing.

A simple "Miss Granger." And a nod as she went to bed.

She found herself returning the sentiment as the days went on.

Once she found the courage, she managed to join him for dinner at the small table. A single raised eyebrow was his only greeting. He didn't comment on her presence and continued to eat his pasta.

It was a start.

The small house had a tiny library, she had read through everything in the first two weeks. There was also a radio and a television. She found it very funny when after refusing to watch anything 'muggle' at first, now they both watched it together in the evenings. He liked to watch murder mysteries, like Inspector Morse. Lucius said they were passable as entertainment, but she knew he couldn't stand it when he guessed the murderer incorrectly.

She grew to enjoy his company. He was witty and charming during their dinners. Harry and Ron wouldn't believe her if she told them any of this.

There was still a hate that lied beneath the surface of their relationship.

He was still a chauvinistic bigot beneath a genteel façade, and she would never forget that. No matter what he did.

Xxx

Hermione laid back on her bed, watching the lace curtains flutter in the wind and grow damp from the raindrops. There is thunder clapping in the distance, she can see a faint flickering of light outside and hear the rumbles. She counts one one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand and more until she loses count. It's useless because she can't remember the exact number of seconds corresponding to the distances anyway. It was something she learned at primary school.

She should turn on a light or light a candle to brighten up the room from the low dim that surrounded her.

This reminds her of the halls at Hogwarts in the evening. She misses the castle greatly. She loved walking the lengths of the halls on the way to or from the library. She especially missed listening to Ron and Harry talking about something non-academic like Quidditch.

Hermione wonders will she ever see them again either. Hopefully, they'll find the Horcruxes in time.

There is a knock at her door, but Hermione ignores it and pretends to be sleeping. She hopes he will go away.

Nevertheless, the bedroom door creaks open, and a shadow enters along with the light from the hall. The door clicks shut, cloaking the room in a dim light once more.

Hermione shuts her eyes and doesn't turn around. She concentrates on slowing her breath, lengthening it to sound like she's asleep.

He sits down on the bed beside her. His weight makes the bed sink and Hermione's body dips towards them. Something distinct is in the air, something dark and spicy.

Hermione cringes internally. She wants him to leave her alone.

The bed shifts again, and Hermione can feel him lying down so that he is spooning around her. She should elbow him in the stomach for doing this, but she doesn't. There is still a flicker of hope he'll leave her alone.

She doesn't realise that her neck is exposed until she feels his soft lips on it, tickling her skin with his kisses. She gasps and a moan escapes her mouth. His mouth is heaven there, in that spot and she can feel her behind begin to grind against him.

"I knew you were awake," He whispers in her ear, his lips only leaving her neck for a moment.

His mouth moves slowly, softly across the arch of her neck. She knows he is trying to make her move her neck, so he has more access, but she doesn't fulfil his wish. But she doesn't stop Lucius either, when he snakes a hand over her hip and dips it down between her legs.

He pulls away from Hermione's neck and she is met with a sudden rush of cold air on the mark he made.

He pushes Hermione over onto her back. She opens her eyes finally, expecting the worst.

Instead, Lucius' own eyes are not glaring at her, nor are they narrowed. He is staring straight at her, his mouth set in a firm line that she cannot read. She bites her lips unconsciously.

He just continues to look at her, neither of them moving. The only movement comes from the rain outside, starting to pelt harder against the window.

Lucius kisses her then, full on the mouth, hard, deep, and wanting. She gasps, not having time to react before his tongue has pushed between her lips and slides along hers in a fast dance. His lips are soft and hot, and she can't help but melt under him. This was almost enjoyable, if he wasn't so rough and harsh and-

Wait.

She hates him.

She pulls back and shuts her mouth quickly.

"Get off me, you bastard!" She hisses lowly. "I hate you." She adds to justify herself.

He doesn't move or say anything in response. She wishes he would.

When Lucius just stares down at her like that, the knot in her stomach twists more because she doesn't know what to do.

But then his words are calm and haughty. "Likewise, little mudblood."

Her mouth opens to berate him, but she stops herself and looks away.

She feels his fingers thread though her curls, bringing her back to face him.

Hermione furrows her brow. "What-"

Lucius takes the opportunity to kiss her again. She doesn't open her mouth when his tongue starts to prod at her. She fights the pleasure he's trying to give her. He changes tactics because what started off as rougher transitions into something nicer, something she begins to enjoy. It's almost chaste. Lucius starts to crawl over her body in the midst of the kiss. He presses his erection against her.

She parts her legs, if only because it feels good to have him grinding against that spot. He's catlike in his movements, sleek and fluid.

Lucius' hands are on her breasts, barely even kneading them through her nightdress. He slips it off her chest easily. Her breasts are exposed to his greedy eyes. Hermione moans under his hands, they are so warm in contrast to the coolness in the air. He covers her, smothers her, with his hands and lips and his hair falls over his eyes. The ends are long enough to twist between her fingers, and she does so, appreciating the feel of it. His hair is soft and delicate, unlike its owner.

He knows where to touch her now to make her moan and shiver. She does quiver when his fingers plucked at her taut nipple. She hisses when they trail down her chest and stomach, tracing the freckles on her skin as they descend. Hermione both hates and loves what he does to her body. If only he were someone else, but then would they know just where to stroke their index finger against her clit, just there, firmly in a circle. Lucius knows this and he has her moaning beneath him.

"Please," Hermione groans, bringing him closer to get even more friction. Her legs are wide for him, she wants him. He can see it in her brown eyes, they nod when Lucius slips the nightdress off her body. He peels his own clothes off too.

He gets back on the bed and lines up his cock at her opening. She braces herself. He's a very well-endowed man.

She cried out as Lucius enters her. For a split second, Hermione wishes this fullness could last forever. But then Lucius starts to thrust, always timing it perfectly with his hands, now touching herself between them. Lucius must like the feel of her breasts under his hands when they fuck, because he grabs them so often and so hard that Hermione almost worries they'll bruise so darkly that even Bill will notice when he makes his weekly visit to drop off food. She'll have to avoid any low-cut tops for a while.

She loves and hates the way Lucius thrusts his cock inside her. He's so meticulous, so precise in his movements. He's way more experienced than her.

Narcissa must have been happy before he was arrested, and she subsequently divorced him last year.

She moves her hips, clenching herself around his cock, to keep him close. But he just adapts to her like a true survivor.

Is that what they are?

They are both enemies of the government, stowed away until it's safe for them to return to society. And right now, they only have each other.

When he thrusts deep inside her, it is a sort of primitive music in Hermione's ears. They may claim to hate each other, have implied that they hate each other over the years, but when Lucius squeezes his eyes shut in that last moment before the fall, he gives away more than just his seed to her.

There is sweat on his brow and Hermione removes the hand on his back to wipe it away. She pushes his hair back, Lucius shudders, coming with a grunt, just like any other man.

He doesn't ask her if she finished. Hermione would much rather see Lucius at his most vulnerable than reach that level herself. It feels good to come, yes, but she enjoys seeing this side of him more.

After catching his breath, Lucius pulls out, dribbling a little milky come on her thigh. She cringes internally at this. He must sense this because his eyebrows rise at her, he is still red-faced, and he shifts down the bed and his head dips towards her-

Hermione's hands fly to his long hair, trying to pull him away. "What are you doing?" She hisses.

She doesn't get an answer.

Because Lucius' tongue is doing the most amazing thing to her. Her folds are already half-numb from their rough sex, but she can feel everything. He is licking her, lapping like a cat, the cat she thinks he sometimes is, lazy and self-centred and wholly in command.

He places his hands on her hips and digs in. Her own hands glide into his soft hair. She groans and looks down. Hermione loves the sight of his blond bobbing between her legs. She never thought it could turn her on, but it does.

Hermione throws her head back on the bed and moans. This encourages Lucius. His tongue swirls and darts and licks faster, as her own gasps speed up once more.

"Lucius…" She mumbles.

He mutters something, but it is lost against her skin. The vibrations send her legs into shivers of delight. She is racing towards the drop, her body twitching under his attentions. Just a little more and she'll let herself fall into the abyss. Her hands move towards her clit, to stroke herself.

But he swats her hands away, shoves them aside with his head, never failing with his tongue to touch just in the right way.

Hermione groans. "Please, I'm gonna-"

Lucius hums in agreement as his lips wrap around her clit and sucks. It's too much for her. She feels the knot in her stomach twisting into a torturous delight. She comes with his name on her lips. Her back arches and her toes curl, a flood from within breaks loose and spills out. In the moment, she loves what he's doing to her.

She lies there, unmoving, recovering from the high. Lucius has moved up beside her. She can smell her salty musk on him. Hermione is almost tempted to kiss him, just for curiosity's sake, but decides against it. She instead just relishes in the feel of having another naked body beside her own. She could get used to it.

Maybe.

She is afraid she will. Her mother used to have a saying. What you fear, you will become.

Hermione fears she will get used to this, that she will become-

She can't allow herself to think it. Things will get better. Things will change and she'll go home, see everyone she loves and misses again. But until then, she is content to rest satisfied next to an equally content Lucius Malfoy.

Despite herself, she takes the hand that has strayed over her breast to fondle her nipple into her own hand. Hermione likes the way his fingers intertwine with hers. They are strong and long and look lovely in leather gloves he used to wear. It's almost too bad Lucius was inherently a bad man. Sometimes, Lucius seems almost nice. Someone she could grow to-

No, she can't let that happen.

When you love someone, your pupils widen. When you hate someone, your pupils also widen. In the growing darkness, Hermione doesn't get a good look at his deep grey eyes. She's curious to see what they look like.

She does, however, get a good look at Lucius' body when he arises to dress. She rolls over onto her other side and watches him. Hermione admires the graceful movement of him as he pulls on his trousers over legs, his firm arse and a well-endowed, but flaccid cock. She feels a bit voyeuristic but doesn't stop her wandering eyes. She can't help but sigh when he pulls a shirt on over his head. She notices a bite mark on the base of his neck, right on his collarbone. Hermione knows it was from her and feels her cheeks blush.

Lucius catches her roaming eyes, smiling a little. He bends down to kiss her briefly. Hermione doesn't even realise her lips and teeth are trying to deepen it until Lucius pulls back and says, "Until tomorrow, my dear."

She tells herself that she was just lonely and needed comfort when this began.

It's what she tells herself every night when he comes to her rooms.

He leaves and she closes her eyes.

Waiting for tomorrow to come.