Continuing Tales


A Harry Potter Story
by MizSphinx

Part 10 of 12

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Legolas did not meet her. That bastard.

No, I shouldn't say that! He could've been in an accident, or maybe something important came up and he couldn't make it. Or, maybe, he had already come and my lateness led him to believe I had avoided him. There has to be an explanation for this. Has to be!

Climbing off the stool was every bit as challenging as getting on, worsened by the g-string's sudden mission to grind deeper into her flesh. But once again she managed it without incident, and feeling greatly disappointed by Legolas' no-show, she waved goodbye to the barman with whom she'd struck up conversation during the wait and left Fran's.

Standing just outside the restaurant, having just decided to walk home instead of Apparate, she heard the door open so she stepped to the side to allow the individual to pass.

"Ah, we meet again."

She turned and found Lucius Malfoy standing behind her.

"You're still here? I thought you'd left." Then remembrance returned. "Oh, right. You were to meet someone. How did it go?"

"Not as well as I'd expected," he replied, watching her. "As much as I'd hoped otherwise, our meeting was too soon. She was not ready."

She ignored the irritation that had kindled when he'd said 'she,' and refused to dwell on who this 'she' may be.

"Ready for what?"

"To see me."

"So she didn't show, then?"

He gave her a strange look. "In a way, yes."

"That is unfortunate," she commented. Then: "My date didn't show up either."

"Yes, very unfortunate," he concurred.

They fell silent.

"Well, I'm off. I'm headed this way." She waved her hand in the general direction. "Have a good night, Mr Malfoy. It was nice –"

"You'll be walking?" he interrupted, frowning. "At this hour? That is extraordinarily unwise, Miss Granger."

She pursed her lips stubbornly. "It's a safe neighbourhood."

His frown deepened. "I'm not sure whether you're being overly naïve or foolish. Neither of which are desirable traits, I must add."

Her eyebrows knitted in impatience. "I think I'd know my own neighbourhood. Not to mention I'm perfectly capable of defending myself if need be. Unless you're so convinced I'm an idiotic damsel in distress in need of your wondrous and knightly protection?"

"As a matter of fact, I am." He went round her then extended his hand. "Come. If you must walk, then I will walk with you."

She eyed his hand, eyed him, and then eyed his hand again. He wanted her to hold his hand? In public?

She opened her mouth to voice this, but he beat her to it.

"Yes, Miss Granger. For the entire world to see. Now if you wouldn't mind…?" He made a beckoning motion with his fingers.

As she relented and slid her fingers along his, the colour in her face rose, threatening to match that of her dress. He intertwined their fingers, his palm flat and warm against hers.

They set off in the direction she'd pointed to earlier, their pace steady yet unhurried. His hand is so much bigger than mine, she thought, highly conscious of his fingers resting between the gaps of her own, and the way his thumb occasionally smoothed over hers. Who knew holding hands could be this distracting or arousing? She could hardly concentrate on lifting her feet, let alone guide him along the right path to her flat. Her heart was beating so fast, it was as if she were running instead of walking.

My father fancies you…

Could Draco be right? More than an hour ago, she'd been certain that that was utterly laughable shite. But now, Lucius was confusing her again. Here they went along the roads of Hogsmeade at minutes to ten like lovers on a near-midnight stroll…holding hands. Anyone could see them! What was worse, anyone they knew could see them! And he didn't seem to care one iota. If someone they knew noticed, what would they think of this? No doubt stop and stare with heart-stopping, wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock. Much the way she felt at present, really.

But he hadn't denied it. When she'd related Draco's accusations, he'd only asked her what she believed. Was that a roundabout admission? Had he hoped to ascertain her feelings first on the matter before proclaiming his undying infatuation for her? Sort of doubtful, wasn't it? Although, in consideration, she did not believe Lucius Malfoy the type of man to voice his feelings. He was far too proud to advertise such vulnerability. And then there was that 'she' he'd mentioned earlier...

She snuck a glance at him. He squeezed her hand.

"You think too much."

She looked up at him again. "How do you know I'm thinking?"


She turned her gaze to stare ahead and discovered they were standing outside her building's front door. She was about to question how he knew where she lived when she remembered she'd brought him to her flat two months ago. Still, for him to have recalled the location so accurately was remarkable.

He released her hand, and to compensate for the sudden lack of warmth, she clasped her hands together and lay them against her belly.

Awkwardly, "Thank you, Mr Malfoy."

"You're welcome, Miss Granger."

"I guess you'll be Apparating home now...?"


Her inherent babbling kicked in. "Unless, you'd like to come up for tea? That is, if you want tea. I-I've got lots of tea. In my flat. Upstairs. I like tea. Do you like tea?"

He looked amused. "Yes, I like tea."

She laughed nervously. "Of course you like tea. That's such a silly question! Yes. Right. You can come upstairs for tea."

Withdrawing her wand from where she'd stuck it in her hair both for safekeeping and to keep her hairdo intact, she spun around quickly and unlocked the front door. The building was a squat, square structure owned by a wizard who'd made his wealth opening a Wizarding robes factory. It consisted of two floors and four separate flats. Only two of the flats were occupied presently: one on the ground floor by a young man who worked for the Ministry, and the other on the first floor by Hermione.

They walked up the short flight of stairs and along the even shorter hallway to Hermione's door. With each step, Hermione grew both terrified and excited with what she'd done. Bringing Lucius over two months ago had not been as scary because his visit had been justified; he'd been hurt, and she'd wanted to help him. But now? What was going to happen?

Nothing! We'll only be drinking tea.

But then, she'd invited Legolas over for tea after their dinner in her letter. And if she was being honest: drinking tea had been the furthest thing from her mind...

She unlocked her flat, they went inside. They stood in the semi-dark foyer, the light from the kitchen penetrating the area just enough for them to see each other's faces.

Her tongue glided along her bottom lip. He watched this avidly.

Softly, "I'll go make the tea."


She didn't move.

Why is my heart beating so fast?

"What kind of tea do you like?"


"Peppermint? I have peppermint."


And still she did not move.

She wanted to kiss him. Would it be so bad if she did? Just one little kiss? Kisses didn't have life-altering consequences! They didn't really change the dynamics of a relationship! Kisses were harmless; easily forgotten! Although, Lucius Malfoy's kisses were particularly unforgettable. But, whatever. It wouldn't hurt to give him a quick snog then move on to make the tea.

In the gloom, his eyes looked charcoal, and he seemed bigger, towering over her easily. He made no move towards her, and Hermione suspected he did this on purpose. He was waiting for her to initiate contact. Could she be so brazen? All this time, Lucius had been the one to kiss her first, usually by way of overpowering her. She couldn't dream to use his methods – force him up against her wall, pin his hands and snog him senseless. Though, that did not sound like such an awful idea...

She just had to be brave. Be forward. No fear, no misgivings. Just take what she wanted. Could she do it?

She stepped forwards, standing in his personal space now. He remained still.

It's just a kiss, nothing more.

Her hands reached up and looped around his neck, her front pressed against his. She tilted her head back to meet his gaze directly. He looked simultaneously amused and curious, as if he knew how much willpower it had taken her to get this far, and to see how much further she was willing to go. He didn't help her whatsoever. Just stood there, stock still, awaiting her next move.

"You're an evil git, you know, making me do all this work," she said into the silence.

He could no longer resist the smirk. "I don't recall asking you to do it."

"So you don't want me to kiss you, then?"

"Quite the opposite."

"Just one kiss, then I make the tea, and then you leave."

"Of course."

"I've banned you from my bookshop by the way."

"Yes, I saw your sign. So very tasteless."

"I shouldn't be kissing you."

"Perhaps. But you've not even begun."

She bit her bottom lip coyly. "Why won't you kiss me, Mr Malfoy?"

"Because I'd like you to kiss me first, Miss Granger."


And she reached up further and pressed her lips against his.

He suddenly came to life, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, squeezing her to him. He did not dominate; instead he allowed her to lead the way, and soon, Hermione's chaste, close-mouthed kiss became hungrier. At her insistence, he opened his mouth, and their kiss deepened, became heated. It was no longer just a simple kiss. It became the impetus for their desire, rapidly pushing them forwards to what they'd both secretly longed for all this time, but from which they had abstained.

All thoughts of tea forgotten, their hands quested along and gripped at each other with relentless fervency. Hermione's fingers were either sifting through his hair, or bunched in the material of his shirt. She strained against him, as if somehow certain that he was not close enough. She moved her legs against his, lifted a leg slightly to curve around his calf, but the clingy material of the dress restricted her.

But that was rectified when Lucius' hands went down to her thighs and grabbed the material to hike up the skirt of her dress. Their kiss broke when he lifted her up, and she toed off her shoes and wrapped her legs around his hips. With one hand supporting her weight, he shoved her up against the nearest wall, his lips already at work on her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, while his other hand smoothed up and down her exposed thigh.

Their movements never slowed, never wavered. As soon as he'd pushed her against the wall, he was pulling her away from it, walking her forwards. Exhilaration and fear and desire combined forces and filled her with its heady mixture. Her heart beat too fast, her breathing was too shallow, the sensible section of her brain screamed bloody murder about how she really ought to nip this in the bud.

And yet, she did not stop him. When he carried her into her darkened living room and sat in her sofa, she did not move away. She only realigned her body to press more intimately against him; the flimsy material of her underwear and the cloth of his trousers hardly a barrier between them. His hand grabbed the zip at the back of her dress and pulled it down; her fingers outdid themselves unbuttoning his shirt.

My, how things have changed.

Indeed, and so swiftly to boot. Why did Lucius Malfoy have this effect on her? How could she so easily set fire to caution and reason without a second thought? How had a chaste kiss turned into this? She was about to have sex with Lucius Malfoy on her living room sofa regardless that she had feelings for Legolas, and that she knew Lucius was with someone else. And did she care? Did she give even the teeniest bit of damn about it? No. Not really.

He was kissing her again, even as his hands smoothed the short sleeves of her dress down her arms. Task complete, his mouth descended past her chin to her neck as his fingers unhooked the clasp of her bra at her back. And there was no time to be coy, no moment to blush prettily and cover herself, for as soon as the bra was thrown in some unseen direction, and her breasts were free, his mouth was on them, around them, sucking and licking…feasting on her unashamedly.

"Yes," she gasped aloud for the first time. Her own voice sounded strange to her ears. "Oh, god, yes…"

Eyes closed, she gripped the back of his head, holding him against her, arching her back and grinding her hips. His mouth warm and wet, his teeth biting, scraping, and his tongue flicking her nipples mercilessly. She moaned his name, and moaned it even louder when he worked his hand between her legs and touched her. An insistent digit, his thumb, stroking her through the material of her underwear, parting her, pressing and circling her clit, the rough material scraping exquisitely against her flesh.

Merlin, she was going to come soon. And she would come hard, too, because the idea, the very fact that it was Lucius Malfoy, this wicked, evil, wrong man, doing these things to her was so incredibly alluring. Every single nerve ending and every single hair on her body wanted this man, and the knowledge that she could have him, would have him, simultaneously scared and thrilled her.

Emboldened, she pushed his hand away, reached for his belt and undid it. She unclasped the stay, unzipped the zip, reached for him, gripped him, pulled him free. He groaned against her breast, and when she experimentally pumped him, he released her breast on another groan, lifted his head and kissed her neck.

"Gods, witch, I want to be in you," he said, his voice gravelly and his breath hot.

And she wanted that, too. More than anything. She whispered this against his lips before she kissed him sweetly, lazily, savouring the taste of his mouth even as she moved over him, on him, pushing her underwear to the side and guiding him into her. And sweet, sweet Merlin he felt good. So good, she whimpered into his mouth and blinked back tears of pleasure, for she realised that she'd never known completion, she'd never felt such total fullness until tonight.

Almost inaudibly, his eyes closed, he whispered, "Yesyes, how long I've waited to have you, my love. So long…too long…"

Their pace was languid at first. She lifted herself all the way up, then sank slowly, torturously down upon him again. She was in control. She dictated their pleasure. Her hands gripping his shoulders, his arms smoothing along her waist, they ground against each other with a natural ease of two lovers who'd known each other for years.

When they both could no longer restrain themselves, could no longer delay the urgency building within them, Lucius bent her forwards against him, grabbed her arse and began driving himself upwards, thrusting up into her with merciless persistence. This was no longer lovemaking. Lucius Malfoy held her still and fucked her. Fucked her hard and fast until she came, trembling, clinging to his shoulders, moaning, and crying his name.

And even as the last of the fluttering of her walls died away, he kept moving. Soon, his thrusts became more frenzied, less precise. His breathing deepened, fanning hot against her neck. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted just before he climaxed, groaning long and low, his eyes squeezed shut. And it delighted Hermione to no end that she was the cause of Lucius' unusually dirty mouth.

They stayed where they were for quite some time. And even after their breathing and heartbeat had regulated, Hermione remained pressed against his chest, her lips a hairsbreadth away from his neck. They were both hot and sweaty, but neither felt inclined to move. Even when he slipped, flaccid, from her and his ejaculate splattered onto his trousers, they still did not move.

Hermione waited for the ensuing guilt or shame concerning what she'd just done, but none of these emotions were forthcoming. Perhaps they were delayed. Perhaps in the morning when the light of day and reason came shining through her bedroom windows, she'll arise with the appropriate feelings, properly horrified as she ought to be that she'd slept with Lucius Malfoy.

"The woman you were supposed to meet tonight," she said quietly, her breath disturbing the fine hairs at his neck. "Is she important to you?"

He did not speak right away, but when he did, he replied,

"Yes, very important. But she does not seem to know this as yet."

When he said this, something began poking at her brain. Like a memory, or a…feeling or an intuition. Like she ought to know something. But what? What could it be? She couldn't really think straight, anyway. The events of the day had tired her out, and Lucius' warmth was making her sleepy.

"Perhaps she's daft," she commented, eyes drifting shut.


Sleepily, "You're not a very nice man, Mr Malfoy."

"And you're a very nice woman, Miss Granger."

She yawned, drunk with sleep now. "And it's so very ironic that I should fancy a man like you."

If she'd been fully conscious, she might have noticed the triumphant tone in his voice.

"Well, life is filled with incredible ironies, my dear. It is Fate's way to keep us dancing for her own enjoyment."

Hermione believed she'd heard that saying somewhere before, but she could not remember from where. Halfway off to sleep, she concluded that she'd probably read it in a book, and that Lucius Malfoy had read the same book as well. Mere seconds after, she drifted off to sleep.


A Harry Potter Story
by MizSphinx

Part 10 of 12

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