Well, what do you know? I thought of this last night, started it five hours ago, had supper, and finished it a few minutes ago. And there I was thinking I'd let him go.

I'll never let him go completely. Just a little diversion for you. Lucius is back to post war arrogant bastard. As many of you know, I'm busy with original writing but this wanted out!

I will be continuing with Entrancing Wendy soon too. I'm afraid I'm having to take down To Relieve Boredom Four: Scorpio Rising. Sorry. I've reworked it into an original story and it may well be published. It has been shortlisted in a competition. If you want a copy, do so now. I'll take it down tomorrow. I will send you a copy if you miss that though. Just PM me. Please join me on facebook and like my page - laurielove. It's the easiest way to keep in touch.

In the meantime, enjoy. LL x

It had been a long day.

As she made her way down the corridor of the Department of Magical Law, heading home, Hermione's mind was focussed on a cool glass of Sauvignon Blanc and a soak in a hot bath. She picked up her pace, desperate to escape the draining oppression of the Ministry.

'Hermione!'

She was halted in her tracks by the all too familiar voice of Kingsley. A dull leaden knot tightened in her stomach. Even she could not ignore the Minister for Magic; his footsteps were approaching. She turned, unable to greet him with anything remotely like a smile.

'Do you have a moment?' he inquired.

'Not really.'

'This is important. Someone's just arrived whom I'm very keen for you to see. It's about that new law controlling dark artefacts; I know you want it finalised as soon as possible. This person can help with that.' He had taken her elbow in his hand and was trying to guide her back along the corridor to his office; she resisted.

'Kingsley, can't it wait until Monday? I promised myself I wouldn't work late tonight.'

'Oh, it won't take a moment.' He was practically pulling her now. She found herself walking with him. Bugger, this was the wrong direction; she was supposed to be heading out of the office.

'This man has many artefacts which are exactly of the kind we need to monitor. Due to his past, he has agreed to us regulating them, but there are one or two issues which we can't agree on. I need you to speak to him. I didn't realise he was coming, I'm afraid. He gave me no notice – typical, I suppose.'

They approached his office and Shacklebolt held the door open for her. 'Kingsley, I don't think I have the focus right now to –' She stopped dead.

Standing in Kingsley's office was Lucius Malfoy.

'What's he doing here?'

'What's she doing here?'

She and Malfoy voiced their surprised indignation simultaneously.

'Malfoy, Hermione … let's remember that the war's over. We all have to work together now.'

'No, we don't,' she declared, turning on her heels and pacing out.

Kingsley held her back before she could go. 'Hermione. It won't be long. I just want you to sort through a few things.'

'Let me go, Kingsley,' she hissed under her breath.

'Just for a few minutes, Hermione,' he insisted, eyeing her with steely determination.

'If she doesn't go, I will.'

She looked over her shoulder at the man who had just spoken and that old bubbling hatred and loathing rose up in her again. His voice itself sent a shiver creeping through her.

'I'm afraid that isn't an option, Malfoy.' Shacklebolt now turned his attention on the ex-Death Eater. 'As you well know.'

'Really, this is intolerable. I did not realise that I would have to enter into dialogue with a Mu-' Malfoy stopped himself, but Hermione's stomach still heaved. Malfoy cast his eyes indignantly up and down her body. She felt her cheeks flushing. '- with ... that.'

'You will mind your language, Malfoy. Azkaban is only ever one or two words away,' warned Shacklebolt.

Malfoy inhaled sharply and raised his head, looking down his nose dismissively at her. She may as well have been that twelve-year-old Muggle-born in Flourish and Blotts again. But Hermione was not deterred. The wrath rose in her and she glared back at him with as much ferocity as she had felt all those years ago.

'Why don't we all sit down?' The Minister walked cautiously into the middle of the room and pulled out a chair, looking back at Hermione with a certain imploring optimism.

Going home would not come any sooner if she refused. She huffed loudly and sat heavily in the chair.

Shacklebolt indicated a seat for Malfoy. 'Mr Malfoy, please.'

Malfoy sneered. 'Enough of your faux conviviality, Shacklebolt.' But he too sat down, flicking up his robes behind him to reveal long legs in dark trousers. Hermione stared determinedly at the floor.

Kingsley cleared his throat. 'Right. Now, Malfoy, all dark artefacts in your possession are accounted for, and we have been asking you to come in to discuss the workings of a new law which regulates their use while retaining them in private hands.'

'I am not foolish enough to abuse my family's more - injurious - heirlooms, Minister, despite what you may think.'

'That's good to know, but we need to ensure that remains the case. Therefore, Miss Granger has suggested a new statute to the law. This statute will require a Ministry-cast tracking charm on all such artefacts.'

Malfoy tutted and muttered under his breath, 'It would be Miss Granger, wouldn't it? Interfering chit.'

'I beg your pardon?' she countered.

Malfoy looked at her and cocked an eyebrow but offered no more.

'What was that you said about me, Malfoy?' she tried again, the anger ill-concealed in her cutting tone.

He leaned into her, his eyes cold, his lip curled disdainfully. 'I said – Miss Granger – that it does not surprise me that you would come up with such a pedantic, inflexible and obstructive piece of tedious legislation. I would expect no more.'

'So you would prefer dark objects to remain in entirely unregulated hands into the future, would you? I would expect no more, Mister Malfoy.'

She almost stood to walk out. Dealing with intractable Death Eaters had hardly been on the agenda this evening. But a knock at the door prevented her escape. Rosemary Blenkinsop, the Minister's PA, appeared behind it.

'Minister Shacklebolt, the Prime Minister is on the phone. Apparently there's some trouble brewing due to the approaching Solstice. He needs to speak to you.'

Shacklebolt tutted. 'Now?'

'Yes, sir. It is the Prime Minister, sir.'

Shacklebolt rose with clear annoyance from his chair, mumbling, 'Why can't he send an owl like any other civilised human being? Bloody telephone; I hate the damned thing. Look, you two, excuse me. You'll have to continue this without me. Do try not to kill each other.' And he paced out, shutting the door behind him.

They sat in silence, neither looking at the other, both determined not to break first.

Minutes passed. Hermione was almost bursting. She could just leave but that would make life harder for her on Monday. They really should just hammer it out now. She dared glance at him. He was staring fixedly at a small china dragon on Shacklebolt's desk.

'This is ridiculous. Let's just get this over and done with.'

Malfoy at last flicked his eyes to her. They almost ignited with gleeful victory; she had cracked first. His mouth turned up at the corners.

'Get what over and done with exactly?'

'The details of this law. Essentially, you keep your artefacts, however dodgy, and we monitor them. If you use them, we find out and you go to Azkaban. Simple. What's the problem?'

'I thought you were supposed to be clever, Miss Granger.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Oh, here we go again.'

'You should know that certain magical objects, particularly those associated with the darker fringes of our culture, require a regular – airing, shall we say – or else their evil becomes more concentrated. If I do not use certain items in a very controlled, mild and harmless way, they will become, over time, ever more dangerous. But, according to your new law, that would mean I would be returned to prison. It is ludicrous.'

'We cannot allow any infractions of the law. It must be strictly adhered to.'

'I thought you'd say that.'

Hermione could stand his supercilious arrogance no more. She stood up, determined to force sense into him and then leave. 'Mr Malfoy, you must understand that you only narrowly avoided a return to Azkaban after the war. Any hint of a retreat towards the shadows of your past and I would see you back behind bars with the utmost glee.'

He too stood up suddenly and took a pace towards her; he seemed much taller than she remembered and she swayed back at his sheer presence.

'The utmost glee? What a wicked little tongue you have on you, Miss Granger. Perhaps you are not the mediocrely ponderous bureaucrat I took you to be.'

'I mean it. After the war I hoped never to see you again. I thought you'd rot in that prison for the rest of your days. I still see no remorse or regret in you whatsoever. You were only saved by your family, Mr Malfoy, your family who now, I understand, want very little to do with you. And who can blame them? Sad, bitter and lonely, Malfoy.'

He stepped in again, his nostrils flaring. She feared she had gone too far. Her cutting words had taken her aback but she held her ground.

'You are a venomous little bitch when you choose, aren't you?'

'Well, now seems as good a time as any, Malfoy. After all the insults and abuse you delighted in hurling at me, it's the least I can do.'

His face twisted and he took yet another step into her. She stood her ground. 'My my. It seems I have underestimated you. The Mudblood can bite after all.'

She moved without thinking. A strength borne of rage poured through her arm and she raised it to strike him. But he was too fast for her and with lightning reflexes he blocked it and grabbed her wrist in strong fingers. She tried in vain to tug out of his hold and elicited a twisted smile of satisfaction from Malfoy. 'Claws in, you hellcat.'

She felt the tears brimming but held them back. Instead, she set about pounding him with her other hand, but he caught hold of that too and she was immobile in his grip. Her body was tight and hot with fury but still he held her fast, his height and dominance too much for her. Hermione glared with burning hatred, determined to recover her control by willpower alone.

'Never again, Malfoy. Never again.'

She met his eyes. They were wide and remarkably bright, lit with a crystal grey flame which seemed to sear her in their intensity. The sneer had gone and he was staring back into her with what could only be described as blinding clarity. The dull heaving of her belly was now replaced with a writhing, twisting ache which would not be banished.

'No,' he said, his voice low and reclusive, almost private. 'Never again.'

And, still gripping her wrists tight, he bent his head towards her. She stared, paralysed, all fight gone, horrified and enthralled at the same time.

Closer.

Never again.

His lips pressed hard onto hers. The ache in her belly leapt high and bright. She met his lips and pushed back onto them. He tasted good. So good. Of dark cherries and marsala wine. He wasn't holding her arms anymore but she only knew it because she was now free to curl them around his neck and pull him closer. Malfoy's hands had risen to her head which he now held hard, very hard, turning it to focus on her mouth even more. He was kissing her with a painful certainty.

His lips, hard and searching, forced hers open and his tongue was inside her mouth. Pureblood bigot. Supremacist hater. Death Eater. Inside her mouth. But so good.

His tongue danced and dipped around hers and she gave it to him. She adored him for it. Malfoy's breath came hard through his nose now; her mouth was too sweet to part from for an instant. Her lips were wide open, inviting more, bruised and swollen and craving, her tongue aching from that desperate dance of desire.

And she was being moved, back to the desk, back to lie upon it. She pushed herself up enough to fumble at his robes and push them from his shoulders. Underneath he wore a black shirt. She needed to see him; she needed to reveal him. He sensed her urgency and together they tore buttons from his shirt and consigned it to the floor. The most perfect pale, sculpted torso loomed before her, like hewn maple. Her hands met it first, warm, smooth, and then her mouth followed and she licked, tasting him – as sweet as his mouth – a long, slow lick which caused him to throw his head back and hiss with delicious torment.

Neither could wait. He tore her shirt open, revealing the dark satin of her bra encasing the twin spheres of plump flesh, but then his hands were down, lifting her skirt, skittering over the lacy tops of her stockings, ripping off her knickers in malicious haste.

'Yes,' she mumbled, not hesitating. He was already too slow. It had to be. She wanted it to be.

His hands moved to his own buttons. It didn't take long for him to be revealed. Her eyes could not leave it. Something so private and potent. Was this evil? How could something so beautiful be evil? And she wanted it inside her. She wanted it inside her so much she threw her head back and cried out in frustration that she was still denied.

In answer he gripped her knee and pushed it to the side, pulled her other leg around his waist and, holding himself, he dragged in breaths through his nose in agonised preparation; he was ready.

'Now. Watch it. Watch it and feel it.'

She turned her head down to where he was poised.

And he was in her.

Full. Hard and full.

Fuck, he filled her. It hurt. As if to reinforce the pain, he pulled out and drove in again, as deep as before, no, deeper. It hurt again. She loved that hurt.

Her head fell back and her eyes closed as she gloried in the completion of cock.

'Look – at – me.'

Hermione tore her eyes open and half sat up, forcing herself to focus, wanting to, but already lost in the most glorious fucking.

She met his eyes and he dropped them to stare down as his cock reappeared from within her.

'Look. I have you, Granger. I'll take you and I'll shake and I won't let you forget. Look.' His cock emerged, thick and hard and glistening in her pleasure.

'In again.'

Malfoy paused, an eyebrow cocked. 'What?'

'Into me again. Please.'

'Please? Are you asking? Are you begging me, Miss Granger?'

'Yes. Please. Please. Fuck me. Fuck me, oh fuck me, fuck me.' She was almost weeping. Her need for that perfect cock, sitting perched, poised, straining yet restrained, was overwhelming.

He smirked, just a little smirk this time, but enough for a jolt of raw anticipation to surge through her. She sobbed.

'Touch yourself,' he stated.

She didn't hesitate. Her hand came down and she dragged over her clit, rubbing and circling it hard.

He smirked down at the sight and his voice now teased. 'Hungry girl. Don't come now. Oh no. That's my prerogative. I shall be the one to rip you out of yourself.'

And with that he was back inside her completely. Her back buckled and she grunted with the sheer unexpected force of it.

Malfoy leaned over her, his beautiful face – she could say that now – so close again. 'Good? Say it. Is it good? Good to be fucked by the man you hate?'

She clenched around him and noticed his face flinch with his own pleasure. 'Beyond good. Beyond perfect,' she answered.

'I'm going to move in you now. I'm going to fuck you so hard and true that you will forget all before and all after. Do you understand?'

Hermione nodded.

Malfoy pulled out again, so slowly that her cunt gripped onto him until the last moment, so reluctant to let him go. But this time he was back immediately and then it began, the retreat and the push forward, that relentless cycle of anticipation and fruition, of cock and cunt meeting and inhabiting.

He was so big that she was stretched with each push. But she lay back now and lost herself to him. He moved with power and conviction but neglected nothing. One hand still held her hip hard, preventing her body from moving away from him, even under his incessant thrusting, but the other rose to her breast and pulled it from the bra. His fingers toyed and flicked a nipple, gently at first, but with growing sinister accuracy. But each pinch and tug and twist only reinforced her utter joy. Pleasure was curling and stretching in her, ready for release, ready to hurtle its way through.

He leaned down again. 'I told you to look at me. Open your eyes.'

She did. He was mere inches away. 'I want you to come first. I want to see you and hear you and feel you come around me.'

He pulled her leg around him, deepening the angle of his thrusts. Oh fuck, that worked. Her body was so tight and hot and wet, so ready for pleasure, that each rub along that sweet spot inside sent shards of sharp bliss shooting through her.

'I can feel you. I can feel your body readying itself. You fit me perfectly, you bitch. How dare you? How dare you be the best fuck of my life? How dare you make me want you and adore you and fuck you?'

'Lucius …' she moaned, barely aware she'd said it. He practically roared: a combination of triumph and despair. But still he moved, hard, fast, a blur of flesh. Malfoy's cock tore in and out of her, plunging deep, pistoning in and out of her hungry cunt. She met him thrust for thrust, rising up to meet every drive forward, craving the next.

And he brought her up, up to that next ledge. She clung to it, her body tight, dispossessed, expectant and shimmering. Malfoy fucked ever harder, each surge into her accompanied by the deepest groan of pleasure.

'Now, now, come, come, come for me, Hermione.'

He surged along her g-spot, embedding his cock deep and hard in her, and she came. Her body knew pleasure tearing through it, robbing her of sense, denying her thought. She lived to feel. And now she was feeling. It raced through her, back to feed off the flesh stretching her apart, and hurtled through yet again.

And when he could hold back no more, when pleasure at last let her body sag, Lucius moved again, focused on the pumping of his cock. He stared down, studying it, his brows creased. And then he froze, his mouth gaped, his grey eyes widened. He was coming, harder than he could remember, bursting long and hot inside her, filling her, cramming her with all he had.

Only then did their movement cease.

She didn't want him to come out. She wanted to have him inside her always.

But, slowly, the inevitability of their discovery pressed in on them. As he slackened, Lucius pulled himself gently out of her and turned, himself away.

Hermione did the same. Both of them had to resort to a mending charm to tidy their clothes.

It was not a moment too soon. Only a few seconds after she had adjusted the last button, Shacklebolt was back in the room.

'Sorry about that. Ah, good, both still alive, I see.'

Hermione smiled and reached behind her, adjusting the dragon which had been knocked across the table in their coupling.

'Yes. I believe we have reached a satisfactory conclusion. Miss Granger has convinced me of the perspicacity of such a law. She has, however, compromised on one or two minor requirements. When it is necessary for me to make careful and sensible use of any artefacts, she will come to the Manor to witness it. That way, we shall all be happy, shall we not?'

He turned to her and met her eyes again.

'Very happy,' agreed Hermione.

'Well, that's … splendid. Umm …' Shacklebolt was at a loss for words. Both Hermione and Lucius took the opportunity to leave.

'If you need anything else, Minister, you know where to find me,' drawled Lucius.

'Have a lovely weekend, Kingsley.' Hermione was out of the door before he could stop her.

When they found a quiet corner along the corridor, the war heroine and the Death Eater turned to each other.

'Did you mean that? About me coming to the Manor?'

'Do you doubt it?' He smiled at her. Not a smirk, not a sneer, a smile. Her insides leapt again.

'No.'

'Come to think of it … I had intended to give one of our treasures an airing early next week. Say … Monday?'

With a final cock of his eyebrow he turned and sauntered away from her.

She smiled after him. Next week could not come soon enough.

I won't say I'll never continue this, but don't expect anything in the near future, I'm afraid. Lucius just came knocking again and I had to let him in.

LL x