Continuing Tales

A Great Task of Solitude

A Harry Potter Story
by Laurielove

Part 18 of 27

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Lucius continued his research.

When not in the library, his time was spent caring for her as best he could, although she refused most food and drink. He remained calm and rational, trying his best to speak tenderly and evenly, trying to maintain an air of normality.

He found himself more able to resist her sexual needs. When he came near her, her body invariably responded with a renewed strength. If he walked away she would instantly turn vile, anger twisting her still beautiful face, and would hurl insults and torments at him.

Lucius did not show his anguish but would turn rapidly away and retreat to the library. Hermione would fall silent almost immediately, slumping back into her semi-delirium.

It was late one Wednesday, days before Christmas. Lucius had been working all day, pouring over texts and manuscripts. He was despairing. Since he had denied her his body, he had not had the glimpses of her former vitality, the brilliance which they could share together.

He was desolate, surrounded by piles of books and parchment, all read in the wasted hope of finding a solution. Everything had proved futile. He had almost given up.

In the desperate hours of early morning, as his last candle shivered before him, he decided to look through one last parchment, an age-old document, requiring all his skill in reading ancient magic script.

And there it was.

'To Cure the Darke Torment Wrought by the Purification Curse'

He stared at the words before him. They stared back at him, so obvious.

Lucius exhaled a laugh of delight, a surge of enraptured power coursing through him for the first time in days.

He read.

But the hope that had built in him so rapidly soon faded.

The cure required almost as much pain and suffering as the curse itself.

Still, he forced his mind to reread, process the information presented to him. As he read it again, he transcribed a simplification of the ancient text.


"Thou shalt bring two of pure heart and soul, two who bear no malice, no malcontent towards the bearer of the curse, two who bear nothing but love for the cursed one.

From these two shall be gleaned blood, blood reflecting the love of the soul. It shall be gathered in unison, the two giving their blood after avowing their intent and affirming their love for the cursed one. For such, the following words shall be used: 'I hereby swear my love for the witch or wizard, (thou shalt herewith recite the name of the cursed one). I avow to heal and cleanse him (or her) through my blood, my soul and my love. If it fails, I will forfeit my life.'

A potion shall be concocted, the elements as follows: asphodel, the yolk of one dragon egg, fluxweed, graphorn spleen, hellebore, moonstone, crushed scarab beetles, blood extracted from the two cleansers, blood from the cursed one (which shall be added at a later stage). All ingredients, save the cursed one's blood, shall then be combined in a silver cauldron, using silver tools over the heat of a willow fire.

The following incantation shall be recited by the cleansers, who must be united in purpose and spirit:

Amoria flammare con spiritus uniquios

Lavare corporea, lavare spirito

Lavare spiritus con amoria flammare

Lavare iniquitatem

Spiritus completo par amoria eternum

Thereafter shall the blood of the cursed one be combined into the potion.

The incantation shall be read again. The cursed one must then consume the potion fully.

All being well, the remnants of the cursed one's soul will thus join with those of the two cleansers. It shall be restored through their giving of themselves. For the fulfilment of the purging of the curse, they shall feel pain and agony: their own darkness revealed. Their own souls shall be absorbed into the cursed one, restoring it, and, if all is well, he or she shall be healed, and the cleansers' souls restored intact.

Beware, if the two cleansers are not certain of their purest love for the cursed one, death will result for all, the souls being fragmented irreparably."


Lucius stared ahead of him, completely empty.

This was the only way.


Did he love her?

He closed his eyes. How could he not admit it now? It had been so obvious for so long.

Yes, he loved her. He loved Hermione.

He loved who she was, who she had been, who she could be again.

Was he willing to sacrifice himself to bring her back?

He was. The answer was unequivocal.

But the parchment specifically required two: two who loved her. He did not suppose it needed to be love such as he felt, as a lover. He supposed the love of a friend or a family member would be just as strong.

Who? Who in addition to him would be willing to risk everything for Hermione?

Her parents did not even remember her. She had no brothers and sisters that he knew of.

Weasley had moved on. He doubted he retained affection deep enough for her any longer.

There was one. One only.

One person he had hoped never to see again.

Lucius had given up sleeping in the same bed as Hermione. He knew, even amidst the anguish of their fractured lives, that he could not resist her body when the strength surged through her with pure erotic force. But every day, every night, he would check on her, ensure she was safe.

He entered her room the day of discovering the cure, more unsettled than ever before. She appeared to be asleep. He crept over and looked down at her.

Despite her weight loss, the tight skin stretched over her cheekbones, she was to him still beautiful. He stared. In sleep, he could remember her as she had been. He recalled the first time he had seen her sleeping in the chair downstairs, how he had wanted to reach out to her, to touch her.

An overwhelming and exacting oppression consumed him. He had betrayed her. He was killing her.

Lucius slumped down on the bed beside her, a dreadful sob rising from him into the stillness of the room.

Something stirred next to him.

"Lucius? Is that you?"

He looked around in surprise. Her voice sounded, for that moment, frail but normal.


"Where have you been? I'm so alone. You have left me so alone." She was like a little girl lost in vast darkness. His heart was stabbed with agony.

"You are not alone."

She reached over, her thin fingers stretching out to him. He looked down. He must not touch her.

He wanted to touch her.

"Don't leave me. I need you." She had never sounded so vulnerable, so much in genuine need.

His hand moved towards her and she circled her fingers around it.

Immediately, Lucius felt strength rushing into her. He closed his eyes and tried weakly to pull away. He could not; she held him tight. The woman sat up with sudden vigour.

"Lucius." Still, however, her voice was normal. Perhaps he could hope. He turned to look into her eyes.

She smiled at him. He could read no malice, no deceit in the smile. Her hand came up and lightly caressed his cheek. He exhaled with the simple touch of her: a touch he had longed for, had missed so much.

"My darling, my sweet. You have come back to me ... thank you for coming back to me ..." She was kneeling before him and leaned in, planting a tender kiss on his cheek.

He was lost.

Her hands encircled his neck, turning his head to kiss his lips. Still it seemed tender, loving, as it was that first time. He moved his lips under hers. Her hands were on his shoulders, running along the broad muscles, her fingers drawing a line over them. He felt the stirring in his groin once more.

She deepened her kiss, her tongue questing slowly into his mouth, circling it with the sensuality he had recently only been able to recall. Here it was again, in his arms.

He responded, his body responded, his cock responded.

Lucius' hands came up to hold her head, angling it to thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. He wanted to remember her taste, her feel. How had he thought he could survive without it? The woman groaned loud, her hand dropping to release his already hard member. He helped her remove his clothes swiftly and drew her own thin cami up and over her head.

"Yes, yes, my darling. I have longed for you, I have missed you so." Hermione fell back onto the bed, her back arching up. Her words were not coarse or brutal. If she was manipulating him he was unaware, or choosing to ignore it. This felt normal, this felt as beautiful as ever. He was powerless to stop.

She writhed beneath him, reaching beyond her and gripping the bedstead hard. Her body was his, open for him. He felt himself as hard as ever, ready to plunge into her perfect pussy once again.

Lucius glanced up. Her hands were gripping the bedstead so tight her knuckles were white.

His cock swelled yet more.

"Tie me."

Had he heard right?

"Tie me." The voice sounded again, more insistent, deeper. He looked at her. Her face was suddenly desperate and determined.

His heart panged. He frowned and hesitated. He had experimented with all manner of sexual practices in his life, but with Hermione neither of them had ever had the need for this, not even under the curse. He gazed down at her.

"You heard me. Do it. I need you to. Tie me hard. Bind me."

He knew he could only do as she said. He thought only of pleasure, of the energy coursing fast through his limbs to his cock. All hesitation vanished.

Lucius summoned a length of leather and, quickly grabbing her wrists, bound them tightly within it, then reached to wrap it round the bedpost.

"Tighter, harder. I want to feel it hurt. Punish me."

He was beyond questioning her. He knew the reason she was like this, knew the significance of it, but the pleasure and the power which gripped him overrode it all.

He gripped the leather strap and pulled, watching as the hard edge dug into her soft flesh. She gasped in with pain, but her eyes immediately closed as sensation surged through her.

"Yes, yes, that's it, more, more."

He pulled it yet tighter. He could see her hands darkening before his eyes. He did not loosen it.

Hermione arched up, her breasts rising, seeking him out. He plunged his mouth down to them, his hands gripping the pliant flesh hard, pushing the nipple up to his waiting lips, his urgent tongue. He laved hard over the tight, hard nub, then closed his teeth with astonishing force around it. Hermione screamed in sharp agony. He held it between his teeth. Her scream shifted into a laugh of triumph.

"Yes, yes ... feel me .. feel that."

He stayed at her breasts for some time until dark bruises appeared on them and the nipples cried out, red and angry. He reached his hand down to her soaking pussy. She was so wet his fingers glided through her folds with no resistance at all.

"Fuck me! Fuck me now, so hard, Lucius. I want your pureblood cock tearing into me, tearing into my cunt, my dirty, filthy Mudblood cunt. Do it!"

The fire in his groin propelled him between her legs. The scent of her arousal came at him so hard it made him reel. He couldn't prevent the inevitable; her body was his. But her words tormented and seared him. Positioning himself, he brought his hand up to clamp hard upon her mouth, silencing her.

She bit down upon it, her breath hot, her teeth hard on his palm. He relaxed his grip only to hear more words.

"That's right, that's right, you pureblood bastard. Silence me, silence this mouth of mine: this Mudblood mouth of mine. Silence it. Gag me. Do it."

He did not hesitate, could not. He summoned a length of dense black material, twisted it haphazardly and thrust it forcefully into her mouth, gagging her instantly, unable to bear the poison pouring from her mouth. Her breath was pulled hard into her through her nose and her eyes widened in lustful triumph. He reached behind her and tied the gag tight and hard.

He glanced down; her legs flailed before him. With a spell, more leather bindings appeared. Swiftly, he pulled one leg to the side, tying it to a bedpost, the leather digging in once more to her skin. Then the other, so that her legs were spread wide and open, immobile for him.

He gazed down at her. Her eyes rolled back in her head.


Lucius positioned himself.

Power. Triumph.

It surged through him once again.

He thrust into the woman forced into silent submission by him. She couldn't move and absorbed all he was in his first plunge. A groan was caught in the gag.

He moved rapidly, not stopping, not taking her pleasure into account.

He plunged into her, over and over, his grunts as he thrust deeply and violently breaking the otherwise silent air.

Hermione's eyes were wide, wild. He could see nothing in them of the witch who had first entered his house those months ago. He didn't care. All he felt was pleasure and power. Through her he could achieve it. Through her he could be what he had always supposed he would be.

Her cunt squeezed his cock. With a final hard thrust, he came, bursting into her so forcefully her back bent to accommodate him.

The instant his seed had left him, mortality crashed down upon Lucius. Agony and emptiness.

He stopped. Before his pleasure had even died away fully, he stopped and pulled out of her. She had not come. It was the first time ever since they had been together.

He stood and waved his hand. Her bindings and gag immediately disappeared.

Hermione curled her limbs around her, a low chuckle starting deep within. It rose to a manic crescendo, her body shaking as the crazed laughter poured through her.

He saw deep red marks on her wrists and ankles where the leather had dug in. She didn't notice.

Lucius turned and hurried from the room. He only just managed to make it to the bathroom before the vomit propelled itself violently from his body.

After some time, concern for her guided him and, warily, Lucius returned to her.

She lay as he had left her. Her eyes opened blearily as he came in.

"Where have you been? You left so quickly."

She spoke calmly, so delicately, for a moment he could forget.

He sat on the bed, turned away from her, utterly bereft.

Hands reached over his shoulders, running down along his torso.

"You left me unsatisfied, Lucius. You must do what you need, but you know I need my pleasure to be strong. To be strong for you. Make me come, make me come now."

He did not turn to her, merely remained staring out into the room.

She crawled off the bed and over in front of him on all fours, her backside swaying up into the air.

"Fuck me. Finish it. Fuck me now. Anywhere. I give myself to you completely. What do you want? What do you want?"

He ignored her pleas. He stared out into the room, almost unaware of the woman writhing before him, her swollen lips, her rump, fully exposed in lewd detail for him.

Hermione groaned. "Please, please, I need it, I need to feel it. I want your power, I want your cock. Anywhere. Fuck my arse. Fuck me in the arse. I want it to hurt."

Lucius stood, tense, desperate.

"Yes, do it, look, look ... you want it, you want it, don't you? Hurt me. Hit me. Go on. Slap it hard. Slap me so hard the sting echoes off the walls. Make me red. Burn it out of me. My impurity. My filth."

His hand tingled, his cock stirred again. Yes. He could do that. After all this time he could be ...

He stood. He stood up, rising above her like some deity hewn in marble, his body tall and rock hard with passion. Lucius moved in front of her and pulled her forcefully to her feet.

"Stop it!"

He held her in an iron grip and stared into her. "STOP IT!"

Hermione stared wide-eyed at him, then her face contorted into a malevolent sneer. "What, Malfoy? Will you deny me? You cannot do this alone. We are as one. You will take me as you need."

"Listen to me, listen to me." His voice came almost in a wailing sob. "You are ill, Hermione. You have been cursed. This is not you. This is not right. I do not want this. I want the woman who came to me in the darkness of my life, the woman who brought me light and radiance. She is being destroyed. I want her, and I will get her back."

She looked at him for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed again, that same manic laugh which tormented his very soul.

"Please, please stop it!" His voice rose from him in a cry of desolation and he shook her desperately.

The woman pulled her hand out of his hold and slapped him hard across the face.

"Coward!" She spat into his face, her spittle falling across his cheek in a thick splat. "Fucking coward!"

But instead of the surge of anger Lucius may have felt, would have done at any other point in his life, he stepped back from her, not able to look into her face.

The witch hurled her venom at him, her voice deep and inhuman, almost unrecognisable. "Always the way, Malfoy. Never could finish what you started. Never had the fucking bollocks to follow it through. You pathetic cunt! That's what you are: a fucking cunt. Well if you won't fuck me, you can go fuck yourself! You're a disgrace to your name and your blood! Shamed your whole fucking family. Your wife fucked off and left you, your son doesn't want to know you; you sad, pathetic bastard. I offered you glory, I offered you power. You had your chance, you cowardly cunt! Fuck off! I don't want your pathetic prick anywhere near me again." Her hand rose up high and she struck him once again.

Lucius Malfoy took a step back, not quite stumbling. Then he turned and walked from the room. He closed the door behind him, and with the last vestige of sense he had left in him, he cast a locking charm on it.

He went downstairs, put on his outer robes and disapparated.

A Great Task of Solitude

A Harry Potter Story
by Laurielove

Part 18 of 27

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