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"While Narcissa and Draco were forced before their time to leave this world and their family behind, they will be remembered, for to live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die."

Between Lucius and Hermione, Scorpius, made a soft noise. His grandfather lightly squeezed his shoulder as a reminder to remain strong while in public, as his mother squeezed his hand gently in support. The ten-year-old straightened his spine. He might have lost his father and grandmother but he still had his mother and grandfather. He knew Dad would want him to be brave for Mum's sake, and Grandmum would want him to be strong for Grandfa. The three of them were the only Malfoys left, and Scorpius was determined not to let his family down.

"Scorpius, if you would excuse us? I need to speak with your grandfather alone," Hermione wasn't sure whether her father-in-law would be wildly for her idea or against. Either way, Hermione doubted whatever would come out of his mouth would be appropriate for Scorpius' ears. Lucius Malfoy may have appeared to have accepted his son's Muggle-born bride into his family and home, but Hermione wasn't foolish enough to assume her welcome would continue much longer beyond Draco's death.

"All right, Mum," Scorpius stood and kissed his mother's cheek. "Good night, Grandfa."

"Good night, Scorpius. Rest well," Lucius granted him a small smile. He waited until the boy had closed the door behind him before turning his attention to Hermione and lifting an eyebrow. He was genuinely curious about what she had to say. Since the attack upon his son and wife in Diagon Alley that resulted in their murder, Hermione had been singularly withdrawn and uncommunicative except with Scorpius. The request for a private interview surprised him.

"I was wondering how soon you would like us out, sir," Hermione began. "It would be easier if you'd be willing to allow us to stay until the end of the month, but I'd understand if you'd like us gone sooner rather than later." Harry had already offered them a place with him, but Hermione felt it would be better for Scorpius if they found a cottage or flat for just the two of them.

"Out, you say?" Of all the things she might have said, that had to be the most ridiculous. Lucius rose and poured himself a brandy. Force of habit had him reaching for the sherry for Narcissa before he realized what he was doing. Feeling Hermione's eyes upon him, he turned with the decanter in his hand as if he had intended it for her all along. "Sherry?"

"No, thank you, sir." As much as spirits might calm her nerves, she wanted full use of her faculties. "I believe it would be best if Scorpius and I were to give you your privacy." Hermione forced herself to meet his eyes. He didn't appear relieved to have her offer to be gone, but then again, it wasn't as if she'd expected Lucius Malfoy to display that sort of emotion.

"I see," Lucius sneered as he returned to his seat with his drink in hand. "Now that my son is gone, you have no interest in continuing to fulfill your contractual obligations to the Malfoy family."

"That's not—I didn't—I mean this isn't about that ruddy contract! You never wanted me to marry Draco in the first place and I sincerely doubt that you want a Muggle-born to become mistress of Malfoy Manor. I'm simply trying to make it easy for you to be rid of us." Hermione huffed. That ridiculous marriage contract had taken three solicitors, five weeks, and four dozen revisions, until there had been a version everyone was willing to accept, even though none of the parties involved had been happy with the final version. Compromise, Draco had convinced her, was the only solution.

"Be that as it may, I was forced into accepting the inevitable then, as you are being forced into accepting the inevitable now," Lucius sipped his brandy and gave her the tiniest of lift of one shoulder. A Malfoy would never be so gauche as to shrug. "You and Scorpius are to remain."

Hermione wished to smack that smug look off his face but restrained herself. "Mister Malfoy—"

"Lucius. You have been calling me Lucius for years, Hermione. There is no reason to step back now." Especially considering the way she had bonded herself to the Malfoys through Draco and certain clauses in his own marriage contract with Narcissa, back sliding would not be advantageous to either one of them. "You agreed to raise your children here at Malfoy Manor. I intend to see that you do just that. I absolutely forbid you to remove yourself or my grandson from our home."

"You can't keep us prisoner!" Hermione's eyebrows shot up as she exclaimed in surprise. Surely he didn't think to keep them here indefinitely.

"You mistake me, my dear. I have no intention of keeping either of you locked up," a small smile graced his lips. The idea of having the Muggle-born shackled to the wall for a flogging or crawling beside him wearing nothing but a collar and a lead was not at all repulsive to Lucius, though he thought it might be to Hermione. Few women were as willing to accept a submissive role as his beloved Narcissa. "I simply intend to hold you to your contract. You will live here in Malfoy Manor and assume the role of mistress," he deliberately caressed the word, "as stipulated, until such time as Scorpius marries and settles down here with his own bride. That was the agreement, was it not?"

It was. She simply hadn't thought he'd have any desire to hold her to it. "I thought you'd want us gone. Wouldn't you prefer it?" Hermione tried to reason with him.

"What I prefer is irrelevant, not to mention impossible. Wishes will not bring back my wife or my son. Right now, Scorpius, and you, my dear, are all I have left. You bonded yourself to our family and married my son, and once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy, Hermione. Scorpius and I are all you have left." Lucius polished off his drink and stood. "Do not worry overmuch. I will leave you time to mourn before I claim my right to have you." He left the room without a backward glance, leaving behind a puzzled Hermione.

"Gods, you're stunning," Draco practically growled as her dress pooled around her ankles. "Weasley is an idiot."

"Malf—"

"Draco, Hermione." He didn't mind when she called him Malfoy in that huffy, exasperated tone, but right now, he wanted to reinforce the mind shift that brought them here. She might see this only as an experiment, but for him, it was the opportunity of a lifetime. "Call me Draco," he purred, drawing her closer in between his spread legs to kiss that adorable belly button. She wasn't conventionally beautiful, but she had a lush woman's body, and wild hair that made her look half-ravished before he'd so much as touched her. Weasley might have had her believing otherwise, but he knew she was fiery, passionate, and right now, she was his. He planned to see to it that she'd be his forever.

"Draco," she gasped as he drew her closer and his blond fringe and lips brushed her stomach.

"Checkmate!" Scorpius exclaimed excitedly as he bounced in his chair. The cough from his grandfather settled him down. "Pardon me, Grandfa. That is checkmate, sir. Thank you for the game."

Lucius suppressed a smile at his grandson's excitement. It had been a match well played and he was very proud of Scorpius' win, despite it coming at loss for Lucius himself. "Well done, my boy. You played superbly."

"I've been studying the chess book Mum bought me for my birthday. It really had some wicked—I mean excellent strategies," Scorpius busied himself with straightening the board so he wouldn't bounce about like a child. He was eleven and off to Hogwarts soon. He needed to behave properly. It was just so hard when he was vibrating with excitement.

"Scorpius, perhaps you should find your mother and thank her once again for the book," Lucius suggested. It looked as if the boy would knock the entire table over in his excitement if he did not find a release for his emotions soon. Better he should crow to his mother. Hermione would no doubt approve of the boy's excitement at besting his grandfather. "I shall return everything to its place."

"Thank you, sir." Rising from his chair, Scorpius gave his grandfather a small bow, and then impulsively tossed his arms around him in a hug, much as he used to do when he was little. He knew he'd done right when his grandfather's arms came around him to return the embrace. Scorpius' dad had always said that Malfoy men might say they didn't need hugs, but his dad had learned from Scorpius' mum, that Malfoy men were very much in need of hugs indeed.

Lucius watched him go before turning his attention back to the chessboard and chuckled. "Hugs. Harrumph."

"Heavens," she breathed when his hand finally stopped coming down on her bum.

"I take it you're enjoying it then?" Draco's voice was rich with pleasure.

"Yes. You don't have to sound so pleased with yourself, you know," she huffed, but it lost some of its power considering she was currently in nothing but her bra and knickers, draped over his lap with her bum 'a delectable shade of pink' as he'd called it when he paused to let her catch her breath in the middle of the dozen smacks they'd agreed to try.

"I beg to differ. I have a beautiful witch— Stop that," he said when she snorted. "You're beautiful if I say you're beautiful. I'm not deluded, Hermione. I happen to like your impossible hair. It makes you look as if you've just been shagged. And your arse is a wet-dream." He should know. He'd had a few dreams of plunging into her from behind. Those Muggle trousers she often wore didn't hide her figure at all. Draco's hand caressed her bottom. It was warm even through her knickers, and he was not only the one that made it so, he was the one that had her enjoying it. He had every right to be pleased with himself.

Hermione flushed with pleasure. She wasn't deluded either. She knew her hair was a fright, but she'd always thought she had a nice bum and legs. Dashing up and down the stairs of Hogwarts carrying a mountain of books was better than Quidditch for exercise, in her opinion, and Hermione still preferred to take the stairs rather than the lift. Her hips were wide, and her breasts were more to the small side, but they were perky, and Hermione didn't regret that even if Ronald Weasley had bemoaned her lack when groping her too hard. And then that worm had the nerve to complain that she lacked passion. She had plenty of passion. She simply needed someone to bring it out in her, someone who appreciated her.

Someone, surprisingly enough, like Draco Malfoy.

"Do you think … that is, might I try more?" Hermione bit her bottom lip and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"I am at your disposal," he purred. He'd be more than happy to give her more. "You may try anything you'd like, Hermione. I'd be happy to do any of the things you already know you like, as well." Draco wanted her falling apart for him.

"I don’t know what I like," she sighed. That was why she'd come up with this bizarre scheme, only now it didn't seem so bizarre at all. Draco was respectful, appreciative, and so very sexy. Hermione found herself hoping that he might be interested in something more than this one-time experiment given the way he was making her feel.

"Again, I say, Weaselbee is an idiot. He's been fumbling with you for how long? Has he never managed to give you an orgasm, even accidentally?" Draco had thought his estimation of that dolt could sink no further after witnessing the way he had treated a jewel like Hermione.

"It's not like that. We never … He … I …" Hermione blushed so fiercely her entire body was red. She yelped in surprise when Draco hauled her up to sit beside him.

Draco deposited her on the settee only briefly before grabbing her and putting her in back his lap, this time sitting up. She shifted a little, but didn't complain about a sore arse as some women might have done. In fact, she seemed to be squirming a little for another reason. "Define 'we never', Hermione." Draco caressed her cheek. If it was what he hoped, this was so much better than he'd thought. He'd meant to convince her to try with him if he could, and he'd find some way around Malfoy family expectations to make his father accept it, but if she was a virgin—please, gods, let her be a virgin—he would practically be required to marry her.

"What do you think it means?" She huffed. He was manhandling her, picking her up and moving her about like that. Surprisingly, Hermione had enjoyed it. He was much stronger than he looked. The soft wool of his trousers against her nearly bare and well-smacked bum was doing odd things to her insides. She should be used to that by now. Draco had been driving her wild ever since she'd proposed her experiment and he'd agreed to help. "We never had sex, all right?" She blurted it out. Draco had been surprising gentle with her feelings thus far, but that didn't mean he'd resist mocking her if he could, especially given her currently vulnerable position.

"Oh, that is definitely all right," he drawled, drawing his fingers along her jaw. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, Hermione." Draco shifted her closer.

"Is this some possessive, macho thing, where the man crows over having got there first?" If it was, Hermione wasn't sure she minded. It was nice to be looked at the way Draco looked at her, as if she was more precious than gold. He drew her closer and she blushed to feel how much she'd aroused him. Ronald Weasley—the worm—would have been pawing at her and trying to guilt her into sex if he was even half as hard as Draco was now. The hardness against her hip made her feel warmer inside than she did on her bum.

Draco watched her closely. She'd asked a question, but appeared to be pondering an answer of her own. "Would it matter if it was?" he asked softly. "I agreed to stop whenever you said to, remember. I won't do anything you're not ready for, love."

Hermione's lips quirked a little when he called her 'love' because she wasn't sure she minded that either. She bit her lip again and looked up at him. The intense look on his face and the hope she saw there made her feel bold. "No, I don't think so," she replied. His face suddenly shuttered and he looked down, giving her a curt nod. Hermione felt her heart drop into her stomach. "Draco?"

He was an idiot. She was untouched. She'd only been interested in reassuring herself that she didn't lack passion, and wanted to find out if some of the things she fantasized about being done to her would actually turn her on in truth. She'd not been looking for someone to show her just how passionate she could be in all ways. Draco threw up his Occulmency barriers as he dropped his eyes, trying to wrestle his arousal and growing possessiveness under control.

"What did I say?" she asked, alarmed at this shift in him and the way he'd closed himself off.

"It's fine, Hermione. I know I have no right to act possessive. I'll—" She cut him off by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

"Silly man," she drew back slightly. "I meant, no, I don't think it matters if it's some possessive, macho thing. I like when you look at me as if I'm precious," she confessed.

Draco's face lit up with a dazzling smile, which she promptly answered with one of her own. "That's because you are, Hermione." He didn't think he'd ever had a better hug. "It's because you are."

"We shall depart precisely on the half-hour. See that your things are brought down and that Kneazle of yours is properly caged," Lucius told his grandson.

"I'm ready, Grandfa. Mum and I went over my list yesterday. I ticked off everything. Everything except Horus, that is. He'll be in his carrier and downstairs on time. Promise. If I may be excused, I'll see to that now," Scorpius waited for approval before leaving the table.

"You're excused, Scorpius. Don't forget to thank the house-elves for helping with your things," Hermione reminded him. It would be lonely with her son away at Hogwarts.

"I won't forget, Mum," he set his napkin in its proper place and left the breakfast room.

Hermione returned her teacup to the table and looked at her father-in-law for a moment. "You don't need to come along, you know. I'm perfectly capable of seeing that Scorpius makes it onto the train."

"I never said you were incapable, Hermione. It is my place to see to your safety and that of my grandson. I will be joining you to see Scorpius off," Lucius pronounced.

"Harry will be there as well, Lucius," Hermione knew the man still doubted her capabilities given her parentage and he worried about Scorpius even though she knew it was unlikely he'd ever say so out loud. "We'll be perfectly safe."

"I am sure that is true. However, it does not relieve me of my responsibility as the head of the Malfoy family. I am going. That is final," Lucius did not like her attempt to put him off.

"No, it is not final. I don't need you hovering over us every time we leave the manor," she snapped. It was becoming ridiculous being escorted every time they stepped out in public. She stood and started to leave the room.

Lucius had not been unaware of her growing resentment to his continual presence and protective attitude. He was even willing to concede that he may have been overdoing it by a small measure. Hermione and Scorpius were all the family he had left. This, however, was different. "Did it not occur to you, Hermione, that I might actually wish to see my only grandson off to Hogwarts for his first year?" Lucius asked softly.

Hermione stopped and nodded. No, it hadn't occurred to her. She felt slightly guilty that it hadn't. She knew the value Malfoys put on family. "Right, then. We'll depart on the quarter-hour. I like to be early. See that you're ready," she said without turning around before continuing out of the room. If he wished to come along, he would need to follow her schedule.

Still at the dining table, Lucius suppressed a chuckle. He had purposefully mentioned a time later than he knew Hermione would like, thinking he could turn giving up fifteen minutes of his time into a bargaining chip. He had no idea mentioning his desire for seeing his grandson off would so easily change her stance. Leave it to the witch to simply accept the honesty of what he had said. Lucius made a mental note to remember that for the future. While he enjoyed games, coy maneuvers, and subtle negotiations, there was something fresh in adding an honest approach to his arsenal of machinations.

The post was brought in immediately as she had asked. "Thank you, Whimsy," she told the house-elf even as Lucius was waving the creature off. "It's from Scorpius."

"Yes, I assumed as much, my dear," Lucius was well aware that she had been anxious to hear from the boy.

She opened envelope and read. "He was sorted into—" Her face fell; she'd been hoping for Gryffindor.

"Slytherin, of course." Lucius smirked. No Malfoy man in history had ever been placed anywhere else. He rose and dropped a kiss to Hermione's head as he had often done with Narcissa when the two of them were alone. Both of them froze. Lucius recovered first. Straightening, he pretended nothing was amiss. "I shall write to him directly to tell him well done," he said as he left the breakfast room.

Lucius did not know why he felt compelled to set his book aside and don his dressing gown. Even so, he had learned long ago that it was best to follow such pulls in Malfoy Manor, for they often led him precisely where his home needed him to be. Following the pull, he heard a muffled cry of despair as he approached the portrait gallery.

Hermione was curled in on herself beneath Draco's portrait, one hand reached up to claw at the frame while the other hugged her knees in tight. He wanted to snap at her to return to her rooms and dress herself properly, for his son's shirt—as he assumed that was what she wore—did little to hide her attributes. Lucius wondered briefly how Narcissa might have looked similarly attired before chastising himself for the thought. The young woman was obviously grieving and needed help. He was considering calling one of the house-elves to take her to bed when his son's portrait caught sight of him. "Father. Thank gods. Hermione needs to be held. It's the only thing that settles her when she's like this."

Hermione shook her head and wailed. She wanted to be held, but she wanted it to be Draco. She missed her husband. She missed her son. She missed her parents. "Why did you go and leave me all alone?"

Painted expression or not, the look Draco shot him was one that demanded Lucius act. Steeling himself, he lowered himself to the floor beside his son's widow and drew her into his arms. "Shush now. Be strong," he told her.

Hermione pushed at him. She was strong, but she wasn't inhuman. She'd lost the love of her life and now all she had left was her son, and he was growing up and moving away from her. Everyone she loved was gone. Her heart was in pieces, and he was trying to tell her not to feel. She tried to get free, but he was so warm, just the way Draco had always been, and he smelled like him, unlike her husband's shirt that had the fresh smell of the laundry but not that special something extra. Before she knew it, Hermione was burrowing herself against him instead of fighting him off and crying herself to sleep.

"She is strong, stronger than anyone. She's simply heartbroken, Father. She comes to talk every night, but this is the first time she's broken down," Draco's portrait told him.

"Scorpius started at Hogwarts today," Lucius said simply. There was no need to explain further. It took some maneuvering on his part, and a well-applied Featherweight Charm, to rise to his feet without dropping her.

"You won't be able to get her to turn you loose. She rarely clings, but when she does—"

"It will not be a problem," Lucius told the portrait.

Lucius was halfway to his own rooms when he realized she was quartered in the other wing. He relaxed his grip slightly, intending to sit her down and escort her back, however she hung on and whimpered in her sleep. Ah, well. If she was this much in need of comfort, it was probably best he kept her with him. "You are a perplexing creature, Hermione," he whispered softly as he continued toward his own bed. In truth, he welcomed the closeness as much as she.

The man had gone too far this time. Her hair was crackling along with her temper as she looked up at the large empty space where Draco's portrait had been hanging just last night. Hermione stormed from the portrait gallery fully intending to hex her father-in-law bald.

First, she woke to find herself in Lucius' bed, which had been disconcerting, but hadn't tipped her over the edge. She had enough presence of mind to see that he'd still been in his dressing gown despite being in bed with her and there were wrinkles where she'd been fisting the fine cloth. Hermione didn't break down often, but the few times she did, she'd wrecked similar havoc on Draco's apparel. She was reasonable enough to admit that she didn't remember much more than leaving her rooms last night desperate to hear Draco's voice, even if it was only his portrait's.

Hermione had slipped from Lucius' bed—no small feat, considering the man hung on to her nearly as well as Draco always had—and made her way back to her own room where she'd asked for breakfast to be brought up rather than face Lucius before she was ready.

Well, she was certainly ready now.

"How dare you!" Hermione shrieked, as she banged open the door to Lucius' study.

It was only long practice of hiding his emotions that kept the surprise off Lucius' face. He had expected this when she woke. Now, only one hour and some minutes shy of supper, he was taken aback by her fury. Surely if she had been working herself into this state all day, she would have sought him out sooner. "I assure you, had you not taken hold with all the strength of a Permanent Sticking Charm, I would have—"

"I'm not talking about last night! I'm talking about Draco's portrait!" Hermione huffed a wild strand of hair out of her face.

"Oh, that," Lucius said waved it off, unconcerned. He had felt a rare, and very odd, pang of guilt this morning for not having seen to that sooner. "It is no matter. I should have seen to it before, however—"

"You foul, loathsome, despicable man," she snarled, stomping forward on each word. Hermione had every intention of leaving her handprint on his face for making sport of her misery much as she'd done in third year when his son had made sport of Hagrid's. She drew back her hand to bring it across Lucius Malfoy's smug, pointy face.

While Lucius rarely moved with speed, it was not because he was incapable of it. He stood and caught her wrist in an instant. "Do not ever raise your hand to me again, witch." He clenched his jaw and reminded himself that she was distraught. While that did not excuse her actions, it was a reason to keep his own response carefully in check. This was not Narcissa play-acting to set herself up prettily for an erotic punishment. This was his son's widow grieving. Although why she was upset about Draco's portrait was beyond him.

"You're a monster," she glared daggers at him. Hermione knew he'd be expecting her to struggle away from his grip on her wrist, so she did the unexpected and stomped on his foot.

Lucius released her and she turned only to have him fist her hair, stopping her flight. He winced as the tendrils of her hair crackled and stung him, however he held on. "Enough!" he roared. "You are going nowhere until you explain yourself." He could feel his temper rising. Lucius clamped his jaw tight and forced her head around his direction so he could look her in the eye. "Now, Hermione."

"That portrait was all I had left of him. You had no right to move it." She didn't care if it was his house, it was her home as well because of that ruddy contract, and he shouldn't have touched Draco's portrait without consulting her first.

"I was doing you a favor. You should not be sitting on the floor half-naked in the middle of the night crying over—"

"He was my husband!"

"Which is precisely why I thought you would appreciate having his portrait hanging in your rooms. I did not think given last night's exhibition that you would object. I can see that I was mistaken. I will have the house-elves return it to the portrait ga—" Hermione went deathly pale and Lucius released her hair in order to catch her, thinking she was about to faint dead away. Perhaps huddling on the cold floor as she had done last night had made her ill.

Hermione launched herself at him, this time her arms went around him in a hug that nearly knocked them both off their feet.

"You dear, dear man. Heavens! I'm so sorry. I thought you'd taken it away. I didn't know you had it moved closer. Oh, gods. Are you all right? I didn't hurt your foot, did I?" She hugged him again. "Thank you. Thank you, so much." Hermione turned him loose and dashed away, eager to get to the rooms she and Draco had shared to see where his portrait hung now.

Lucius was too stunned to realize she was moving until she was out the door. He had been on the verge of insisting she be punished for her childish actions, however her spontaneous demonstration of affection and gratitude had left him momentary speechless as well as currently perplexed. He could still feel the warmth of her body. Not only that, the hand that had been tangled in that impossible hair still tingled. Lucius harrumphed, "Hugs. Indeed."

"Lucius, please," Narcissa begged, she tried sucking in a lung full of air but her husband only pulled the strings of the corset tighter. She could scarcely draw a breath.

"Please what, my dear?" Lucius chuckled. "I know this is difficult for you. It is supposed to be, after all." She was spectacular. Pale, trembling, gasping for air, and every breath she took was controlled by him. The surge of power he felt went straight to his groin. Lucius clamped down on himself, forcing himself to remain in control. As erotic a sight as Narcissa was nude but for her corset, this was to be a punishment after all.

His rich voice sent shivers down her spine. Narcissa felt him tie off the laces and nearly collapsed in relief that her husband did not intend to make the corset any tighter. There was still the matter of her punishment and she was not sure how she would be able to bear it when every sob would be torture. "I am sorry, darling. I know I am not to—"

"Silence. I have already listened to your apology, Narcissa. You knew the consequences for your action and yet you decided to disobey. I intend to make certain that you are well and truly sorry." Lucius snapped the lead onto her collar. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. When she resisted, he fisted her hair and used it to push her down to her hands and knees. "You do not deserve the privilege of walking. You will crawl to the bench." Lucius picked up the paddle and used it to drive his witch across the room to the bench he kept for her spankings. She might say she was sorry, however she had yet to understand just how sorry she could be. "I will be the death of you, Narcissa."

"Thank you again, Lucius. Having Draco's portrait close means so much to me." Hermione had spent some time every night this week between her work and supper enjoying its new location. Tonight, the painted Draco made her laugh with outrageous poses, overdone character voices, and exaggerated mannerisms while he recited a passage from one of their favorite novels. Hermione's eyes were still sparkling with good humor. "Would you care for a game of chess later?" Hermione wanted to offer him something in return for his thoughtfulness. After searching for ideas and finding nothing meaningful, she finally hit upon one she thought might suit.

Lucius used his bite of fish to give himself a moment to think. Hermione had never offered herself up as an opponent in the past. If Scorpius had not mentioned besting his mother a time or two, or groused about how boring Muggle chess sets were, Lucius would have had no idea at all that Hermione knew the game. He wondered what the witch was about and what this game would cost him. "I understood you only play Muggle chess, Hermione?"

"Oh! Well, yes," she looked down at her plate as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Perhaps she should have thought of something else. "It's not that I can't play Wizard's chess. The rules are identical, you know. The differences are all in the pieces and the magic that embodies them with the ability to—" She was rambling and lecturing. She shouldn't ramble, and most people found it annoying when she lectured. Draco might have found it an amusing trait, but he was an exception. "That's no matter. I play Muggle chess and Wizard's chess. I prefer using Muggle pieces because it's less violent." Draco had bought a beautiful, hand-carved Muggle chess set after the first time she accepted his offer to play Wizard's chess. She'd spent the entire match alternating between her moves, covering her eyes, covering her ears, and generally wincing whenever one magical piece annihilated another. Hermione considered that Muggle chess set one of her greatest treasures.

"You are aware, are you not, that there is a charm that renders the pieces inert?" Lucius' wondered that Draco did not teach it to her. Narcissa had never enjoyed playing with an active Wizard's chess set either. She claimed the pieces were far too noisy and crude when cutting each other down.

"Yes, I'm aware of it." Now she was. Hermione hadn't known about it until after Scorpius began learning to play. She'd been surprised the first time she saw Draco use the charm to freeze the board at various points while he explained rules and strategy to his son. Draco had laughed at her surprise. He'd thought she'd known about it all along because she knew so many things. It was then that Hermione learned he'd bought the Muggle set to show her that he didn't mind playing Muggle games if she liked them, and it was also something beautiful he knew they could share for a lifetime. "I won't pretend that I'd wouldn't be grateful if you'd use it—if you would like to play, that is—but I'm not placing any conditions on my offer."

Lucius raised an eyebrow at that. He had thought for sure there would be some sort of quid pro quo involved. Perhaps she was attempting to throw him off until she was ready to ask for her favor. "In that case, I could hardly refuse your offer, my dear."

Hermione decided she should be completely truthful. "I should warn you," she started, then hesitated a moment when she thought he quickly hid a smug look behind his napkin, "I'm not as good as Scorpius. He routinely trounces me." Draco had nearly always won as well. He claimed she was too structured, relying on what she'd read about strategy rather than feeling it instinctively.

"Then I shall be prepared to win, Hermione." He saluted her with his wine glass. Lucius had known that already. Still, any adversary in the game was better than none, and he still had hopes that the witch would surprise him.

"Thank you for the game, Grandfa." Scorpius was disappointed to have lost.

"You were far too confident, Scorpius," Lucius told him. The boy needed a lesson. "What is more, you allowed me to see your overconfidence, which in turn allowed me to exploit it by showing you what you wished to see, while at the same time employing a strategy of my own."

"Know your opponent as you know yourself," Scorpius quoted one of his grandfather's favorite lines.

"That is correct. You allowed your wins at Hogwarts to give you the idea that you are invincible. Although there is nothing wrong with assuming you will win—you are a Malfoy, after all." Hermione snorted from her place on the settee, however Lucius chose to ignore her and continued, "It is never wise to underestimate your adversary."

"Yes, sir." Scorpius should have thought of that. "Would you like to play again?"

"Unless your mother wishes her turn." Lucius retrieved his rook.

"Mum never plays Wizard's chess," Scorpius replied, wondering if his grandfather was having memory problems.

"She humors me," Lucius chuckled. Hermione was far too rule bound to be a truly challenging adversary but she was a more than adequate player. He had learned over the past few months not to underestimate her. Lucius never knew when some strategy of his own would be something for which the woman had memorized a cunning counter maneuver. It was obscene the amount of knowledge she had crammed into her head. Lucius was beginning to think that her hair grew and bushed that way because, once escaping the confines of her skull, it refused to be crowded ever again.

"Yes, I do," Hermione chuckled herself and gave both of them a bright smile. She enjoyed playing against Lucius. He was a natural instructor—something she'd been surprised she'd never noticed before—with a flair for creative moves, much as Draco had been. Playing chess with Lucius made her miss Draco a little less. What had been one game, had become two, then a nightly ritual, often followed by the two of them reading quietly or simply talking. "I think for tonight, I'll skip my turn. It's far nicer to sit here and watch the two of you play. I'm sure you both appreciate having a strong player as an opponent." She grinned, having had an idea. "Tomorrow night, however, I demand the opportunity to trounce you both in Trivia Titans."

"Aw, Mum! You always win that one," Scorpius complained half-heartedly. He enjoyed the trivia game, but his mum knew almost all the answers except in the Quidditch category. His dad had always had that one sewn up.

"Very well, you shall have your chance to exhibit tomorrow, Hermione. Scorpius and I will not go down without a fight, however." Lucius had played that silly game with her a time or two thinking his willingness to humor her would keep her interested in playing chess with him. He had initially been astonished to find how much wizarding lore the Muggle-born witch knew. It was then Lucius had remembered Draco telling him from the start of his relationship with the witch that no one embraced magical knowledge more than Hermione. "I call green," Lucius slipped in, determined to have his favored color wheel on the morrow.

"No fair!" Scorpius cried.

"Of course not. Fair is for Hufflepuffs. Malfoys do not ignore an advantage." Lucius stated plainly. Then, seeing Hermione's face as she wound up for a rant on fair play, he took advantage of still having the floor to speak. "In other words, you snooze, you lose," Lucius repeated what Hermione had told him when he missed out on the green to her call the last time.

Hermione gaped at him before bursting out in a joyous laugh. Scorpius caught his grandfather's subtle approval of the sound and his smug satisfaction at having brought it on. It surprised him enough that Scorpius forgot his complaint about losing the chance to play green. His mum laughing like that again was better than all the Christmas presents he received combined, although he certainly wasn't giving up his new Nimbus 7800. Scorpius was a Malfoy after all; he was happy, not idiotic.

"What do you mean, you're sorry you can't help?" she shrieked at the portrait in frustration. It was all the fault of Lucius Malfoy—that snake—and his rich voice so like Draco's that she was in this state. That Draco had got his rich, sexy voice from his father was immaterial at the moment. What was material was that she'd been painfully aroused for the past hour and seeking to relieve the pressure herself hadn't worked.

Hermione hadn't felt much urge in the past year to try reaching orgasm with Draco gone. Her desire had seemed to die with her husband. Or so she had thought before that blond snake suggested they might take turns reading something aloud this week. The man must have known the effect his voice would have on her. Lucius rarely did anything without purpose.

"Exactly that. Once a Malfoy—"

"Always a Malfoy. I know. I know," Hermione grumbled. "What I don't know is why you won't give me permission so I can attend to this … this problem!" Once she'd magically bound herself to Draco, Hermione had no desire to come without him. She hadn't thought the years she'd spent willing submitting that sort of control to him would make it impossible for her now. She needed release. She ached for it. If she couldn't get it alone, she'd simply thought to try another avenue. All she wanted was to hear Draco's portrait tell her she had his approval to come. It wasn't as if she was asking the blasted thing to bring her off itself.

"Because I can't, Hermione. I'm a portrait of a Malfoy, not the real thing. You bound yourself to a Malfoy. With the real Draco gone, there remains only one Malfoy who can grant you the permission you seek," the portrait explained. "You'll have to ask my father."

Hermione's mouth formed a small circle as the flogger landed with a thud. She loved this. She loved it all. Almost all, that was. The paddle they'd tried hadn't turned her on at all and Draco claimed not to have liked using it as much either. Hermione had been reluctant to believe that given his enthusiasm for trying different implements on her until he explained exactly why the paddle was different. It was so similar to her own reasons for disliking it that she found herself trusting him to make suggestions on what she might like instead of directing their course herself.

That had turned out to be her best decision of all. Without the need to think about what she wanted and how she wanted it, Hermione found herself able to sink into the sensations and simply enjoy the way the strikes felt. She was hot; she was cold. She tingled; she hurt. She was painfully and gloriously aroused. This was so much better than her fantasies. Every strike with the flogger, the strap, his hand—everything they'd tried—even the discarded paddle, had been meticulously placed, and her reactions carefully checked even after she'd given up using words in favor of moans, whimpers, and cries of delight. He praised her, caressed her, encouraged her, supported her, shared how she was making him feel, and in turn, made her feel alive, free, beautiful, and most of all, cherished.

Draco had never seen a more beautiful woman. Hermione brought the same zeal to this as she brought to everything she wanted to learn. He was determined to do all he could to keep that fire burning in her. Malfoy men were by nature dominant, but Draco's particular preference for dominance had been tempered by his horrifying experiences groveling before the Dark Lord. He wasn't interested in the sort of submissive who enjoyed being humiliated, terrorized, or even ordered to do things she didn't like doing. Draco wanted— No. He needed to know that his submissive partners enjoyed themselves and what he did with them. For that reason, he'd always kept this aspect of his sexuality confined to professionals who enjoyed the act as well as his money. They also aided him in gaining expertise. And because the women he dominated were professionals, he'd never, ever penetrated one. The arousal from the act of dominating a submissive was enough to guarantee him release without spreading valuable Malfoy seed where it shouldn't be implanted.

Now, here in front of him, he had not only a virgin, but the most passionate witch he'd ever beheld, writhing in pleasure from the things he was doing to her, begging for more with each gasp, cry and shudder. She placed her trust him and he was determined that he wouldn't fail her. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anyone. The way she transformed, allowing him to see this side of her, drew him like a Niffler to gold. No one could compare with her amazing mixture of innocence and wisdom, strength and vulnerability. She captivated him and it was his most fervent wish to capture her heart for himself.

"Touch me. Oh, please, touch me. Love me," she begged as the flogger hit an especially lovely place and nearly set off an orgasm. Hermione wanted to come so badly but she wanted it to be him, his body, bringing her off. "Let me touch you," she wanted to try so much more. She wanted to try everything. "Let me love you. Teach me. Teach me everything," she begged. "Make me yours."

"Yes. Gods, yes."

One final stroke and Lucius tossed back his head with a groan. The warm water rinsed away his tension with his seed. A shower prior to retiring to his bed had become a necessity in the past weeks to bring him some measure of relaxation for falling asleep. A wizard in his prime, as he considered himself to be, could not be expected to go without physical release.

His marriage contract with Narcissa did not allow him to remarry unless he was without heir. The magic binding him to it also prevented him from seeking his pleasure elsewhere as the Mistress Malfoy was to be his only partner. Narcissa's father and his solicitors had thought themselves very clever on that clause. They had thought to insure both that he would not stray and that Narcissa remained a virgin until the wedding by phrasing it in such a way. Indeed, they would have succeeded, except for one thing. Hermione was also Mistress Malfoy. Not only that, the impromptu magical bonding Draco and Hermione had stumbled into brought the Muggle-born witch under full Malfoy protection, not just Draco's. With Draco gone, the responsibility for Hermione, and technically for her training, fell to Lucius.

He had loved Narcissa deeply. She had been his and his alone. The conditions of their marriage contract had been more than acceptable to Lucius, thinking, as young men often did, that nothing could ever separate them. They had both believed they would grow old together. Keeping himself only for her had not been any sort of sacrifice. He'd been taught that Malfoy men were not indiscriminate lovers and were always faithful to their family. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy, and a Malfoy bride deserved the respect of a monogamous spouse as much as the family deserved the honor of knowing all its children were legitimate.

Despite his love for his deceased wife, Lucius saw no reason to deny himself for the rest of his life if it could be avoided. That Hermione had been his son's wife did not bother him in the least. If anything, already being a Malfoy made her more acceptable. While it was no longer common in the modern age, there was a history of Malfoy widows being taken in, cared for, and eventually being married again to a brother, uncle, or even the widower father, of the witch's deceased husband. Malfoy tradition demanded he provide for her. Lucius' own urges demanded that he seek happiness with her if he could.

Lucius slipped between his sheets. He missed the simple delight of having Narcissa beside him. Then, remembering the way Hermione had felt curled against him the night he had found her in the portrait gallery and brought the sobbing witch to his bed, Lucius vowed to step up his seduction. There was no need for him to continue sleeping alone.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her stammered request. "I am not sure I understood you, my dear. Perhaps you should repeat that?" Hermione was beet red, however her Gryffindor background certainly showed in her bravery in applying to him. He had always assumed that it would be necessary for him to approach her once it had become obvious that her need had grown too great.

"You heard me, Lucius," Hermione said, lifting her chin and speaking much more clearly. She really didn't want to have to repeat herself. It had been a good fifty times harder approaching him with this simple request than it had been approaching Draco all those years ago with her sexual experiment scheme. She doubted Lucius would be as careful with her feelings as Draco had always been. Hermione had been so reluctant to ask that it had taken her weeks to work up the courage and that was only after her research had convinced her there was no other way for a magically bound submissive to go about reaching orgasm. Lucius would have to grant her permission.

Indeed, he had heard her. As muddled as her petition had been, he had both heard and understood. He tilted his head and nodded a fraction to indicate he had without saying as much. "Allow me to rephrase." He had not been as interested in having her repeat herself as he was in making sure he had her full attention, and, that she understood he was expecting something in return. "What precisely are you offering me in return for granting you this extraordinary favor?" Lucius purred in a way that had never failed to make Narcissa shiver and was delighted to find it had a similar impact on Hermione, though she struggled to conceal it.

Damn him, Hermione thought as she fought to control the little tremor that smoky purr had on her. Draco used to use precisely that tone of voice when he was feeling especially pleased with himself and with her, and it never failed to make her wet. Hermione told herself that this wasn't the time to become aroused. She needed her wits about her if Lucius was expecting her to negotiate. Hermione had considered it a possibility given the conclusions she'd drawn from her research, even though she hadn't wanted to admit that she might have been hoping he would ask a little something of her.

She supposed it should feel odd to be attracted to her husband's father. In fact, it had felt odd at first. It was only when she accepted how much Draco had been like his father in his looks and more formal mannerisms that she'd started to consider it natural to feel some attraction. Hermione decided it would probably have seemed even odder to most people that she should feel an attraction to someone who had invited her death more than once in her Hogwarts days. Having moved beyond the war and the past with Draco, it had been easy enough to set that aside with Lucius as well. They were all changed by their experiences in that tumultuous time. All of that didn't make it any easier for her to deal with her attraction. As natural as it might be to feel the things she did, Hermione doubted it would be wise to act upon them.

"I—I am not sure," she struggled not to bite her lower lip, a mannerism she'd never fully outgrown when nervous. "Do you have any suggestions?" Depending on how he responded, she'd have a better idea of what he had in mind. Hermione doubted it would be as simple as darning his socks. He had Whimsy and Bacore for that in any case. No, she was sure it would be something his house-elves couldn't provide.

Lucius pretended to consider her question despite having several suggestions immediately at hand. He had been planning for a similar moment for some time now, after all. "I believe that I would enjoy the pleasure of seeing you disrobe and observing this desired climax."

"Lucius!" Hermione gasped.

Her wide-eyed look caused him to chuckle. "However, I am also willing to allow you to reach your peak alone if you are willing to grant me the favor of inspecting your bond mark. I admit that I have always been curious about the Malfoy crest you and Draco managed to spontaneously manifest." His son had refused to provide too many details or the location of the Malfoy crest that marked Hermione's body. It had been enough that her name had magically inserted itself into the Malfoy family record to prove Draco's claim.

"No! I'd have to undress, at least partially, for that as well. Isn't there something you'd like that doesn't include removing my clothes?" Her voice held a slight edge of panic that she wished she could stop. Surely he was only teasing her. She wasn't anything like Narcissa. He couldn't possibly feel any attraction for her the way she did for him so Hermione assumed he asked for more than he was willing to accept. It was Lucius' way to negotiate to his advantage, and recently she'd begun to understand it was something he actively enjoyed. She simply wished it didn't come at her expense. Hermione was nervous enough at the moment.

"I would not be opposed to you remaining clothed while seeking your release, if you were to do so while bringing me to mine," he countered with a small upturn of his lips. The witch sounded shocked yet she was playing along instead of tearing off in a huff, which pleased him. Lucius had thought she would need to be coaxed much as Narcissa had needed to be in the beginning. He failed to take into consideration that Hermione was a widowed wife and mother, not an unsure bride. This was promising. Even more surprisingly, Lucius found that he was actually having fun.

"You want me to—Er—"

"Fellate, I believe is the term you are searching for," he offered. Experienced, she certainly was, however, she was not above being shocked. Lucius found that rather entertaining.

"You want me to give you a blow job?" Hermione thought he was teasing her about wanking him as she got off herself, not using her mouth on him. She felt her insides clench and she fought down the thrill she was feeling at the thought of it.

"Filthy witch," Lucius growled as she tried yet another of her whore's tricks on his cock. He did not realize before Hermione started how much better such oral attention could be when the witch was not only willing to provide the service but was excited by it as well. "You are vibrating with arousal, you nasty tart. Ah!" He looked down the length of his body to where her mouth engulfed him and wished she'd been willing to lose her dressing gown and nightdress so he could see how the little wanton played between her legs. "You like sucking cock. Do not deny it. Your slut's body gives you away."

Hermione hummed along his length. She'd been surprised at first to hear such filthy things come out his mouth. Draco had enjoyed sex talk but he'd never called her anything stronger than his 'wanton witch'. Lucius seemed so pleased as he called her names that Hermione decided she could accept it as long as he didn't start calling her anything she found too offensive. It was different, and if she was honest, it was exciting to hear such crude things in such posh tones.

"I can smell you. You are close, are you not?" So was he, surprisingly. Lucius had expected begrudged fellatio from a reluctant witch, not this gloriously enthusiastic and talented performance. "Do not dare to come before I do." He felt her tremor as he commanded her to restrain herself and smiled with satisfaction. Not only was she aroused by sucking she was enjoying his orders. Every time he had told her to do something he could feel her tremble. "You are dripping. I am sure of it."

She shivered as he alternated between almost snarling directions and purring observations. Close she was, but even if she'd wanted to come, she wouldn't be able to unless he gave her the permission she sought. Hermione hoped he held it back until she'd brought him off. Seeing him this close to being undone by her was turning her on nearly as much as the commands, the sucking, and her hand on her cunt combined. She wished to be focused entirely on him as he came. Bringing her hand out from under her nightie and dressing gown, she let him feel just how wet she was as she rolled his bollocks before pressing somewhat behind.

Lucius tossed back his head and roared as his seed erupted into her warm, willing mouth.

Heavens, he was spectacular. Hermione was enthralled by the look on his face, the noises he made, and even the boneless way he collapsed back upon the bed as he finished. Her finger scooped the bit that had got away from her chin to her mouth. She was still watching him, as he opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. Her own arousal hadn't disappeared; she had backed off from her peak only slightly while watching his.

The witch was watching him with those wide, brown eyes and Lucius felt a surge of tenderness. Sitting up, he cupped her cheek and was surprised at how readily she'd pressed her face into his palm. Her eyes were glazed, her pupils dilated, and her breathing had yet to even out. "You did not orgasm," he said it as a statement, yet meant it as a question. This had been the bargain they struck.

"You haven't given permission," she replied softly. Her voice was husky from arousal and from using her throat to bring him pleasure.

"By all means, my dear. You may come now." Lucius was somewhat stunned that she had bothered to wait, however he found that he was inordinately pleased by it.

Hermione blinked slowly, then nodded. She'd barely needed to move her finger back to her clit to find release now that permission had been granted. She had been on edge for weeks, not just the length of time she'd just spent on her knees.

As surprising as Lucius had found her skill at fellatio, his surprise at the swiftness of her response to his words was even greater. The witch flew apart, shrieking her pleasure. The transformation her rather ordinary features underwent as she gave in to desire caught Lucius' breath. In that moment, she was truly stunning. He understood now what had prompted his son's insistence that he found Hermione beautiful. Lucius offered her his hands to help her up. "Come. Rest," he drew her toward his bed.

"Oh," she eyed the bed nervously.

"Rest," he emphasized, seeing she looked poised to flee. "We have shared this bed once before remember?" Lucius felt the reminder would settle her. They had both slept well after she had finished her cry. "I would like for you to stay and sleep." His earlier observations and tests of her reactions to his judicious sharing of his honest desires gave Lucius hope she would succumb now as well.

"Just to sleep?" It was a long walk back her wing of the manor and she was tired. And he was so warm, much like Draco had always been. And he smelled so much like Draco, that Hermione couldn't help wanting to curl up beside Lucius and learn the ways he felt different as well. "Will you put out the candles first?"

"Just to sleep," he agreed. Lucius wondered why she'd mentioned the light until it occurred to him why she might not wish to see. "So that you may imagine yourself crawling into bed beside my son?" he growled harshly. He nearly barked at her to leave. Lucius had thought she'd been enjoying him, not pretending he was someone else, even if that someone else had been of his own blood.

"What?" Hermione shook her head. "No. No, Lucius," she was surprised to hear the note of pain in voice. "I—I admit that it's difficult not to draw comparisons, but I know you're not Draco." She took a deep breath and sat beside him on the bed. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to you for many of the same reasons but you're you. I'm not interested in pretending otherwise. I love—loved Draco with all my heart. I won't ruin what he and I had by trying to imagine anyone in his place." Hermione looked at him and saw he was watching her closely, probably trying to figure out if she was telling him the truth.

Lucius eyed her critically. She sounded sincere. He supposed it was not a stretch to imagine that she'd find the similarities comforting. Malfoy men had been made from the same mold for centuries. He was not yet convinced, however. "Then tell me why you are concerned about the light, Hermione."

"I don't want to be compared to her. I'm nothing at all like Narcissa. I respected her, but I know how little I resemble her." Both in looks and personality, Hermione thought. The only traits she thought she shared with Draco's mother had been devotion to her family and the willingness to do whatever it took to protect the people she loved.

She said it with such feeling that Lucius was certain she told the truth. "This is your worry, that I will see you and find you lacking in some way?" He felt she was worried about more than the simple comparison she mentioned.

"Yes," Hermione whispered. She was beginning to wish she'd returned to her rooms after all. It was awkward to discuss her insecurities. It was awkward simply to admit she was feeling insecure.

Narcissa had been beautiful, especially corseted into a more feminine shape, however Lucius had always preferred natural curves. "You are a woman and a mother. I expect you look like one in your nightdress and out, just as you do in your day clothes. You are a lovely woman, Hermione. You need not worry I will find you lacking." He cupped her face once more and kissed her temple. "Now come to bed. I wish to enjoy the after glow as I fall asleep."

Lucius was in mood. He had not expected progress with Hermione to stand still after a single night, however it had. His subtle suggestions that she join him again had gone by without a response. Now, today, he had seen the trollop in Diagon Alley canoodling with Potter.

He had left word with the house-elves to inform him the moment she arrived home. Lucius intended to find out how she had got around the prohibition placed on her regarding other men and see that she was punished for her promiscuous ways. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy, the witch would regret her decision to stray.

"Lucius, you'll never guess what—" Hermione was brought up short by Lucius pinning her to the door with his body. She shivered as a wave of desire washed over her. Draco had loved taking her by surprise that way and Hermione never failed to be aroused by it. Her body responded the same way now, trembling in anticipation. She could feel her nipples tightening and her knickers growing damp. Her mouth rounded and a soft moan escaped as he roughly palmed her breast.

This was not what he had planned. Lucius had thought to cow her into confessing her transgressions and then punish her severely for them. He had not anticipated the reaction the wanton witch would have to simply being pinned to the door. She was trembling, however it was not in fear. This was arousal. The hard points of her nipples could be felt through her clothes and his body responded with hardness of its own. Lucius palmed her breast, "How aroused you are, Hermione." The little slut moaned and he felt his trousers becoming uncomfortably tight. Lucius thumbed her nipple then pinched. The sound she made in response only encouraged him to increase the pressure. That she could be aroused again so soon after leaving Potter surprised him. "And so soon. You have a whore's body."

"Don't call me that," Hermione growled. She was willing to accept that he enjoyed calling her names but she was not willing to accept that one, especially not when he used the word so coldly. "Don't use that vile mud word either," she added, thinking to nip that idea in the bud in case it had occurred to him. It was one thing to call her slut when he was purring it in pleasure, but the way he'd used the word whore just then made her feel cheap and unappealing. It had been weeks since that night she'd brought them both off before sleeping in his bed. She had hoped he might ask her join him again but all he'd done had made some vague references. After being the one to approach him last time, Hermione felt that she should wait. Wait she had done, and heavens she was pleased she had. Lucius' method of approaching her was very much the sort of thing she enjoyed, coarse language aside.

Lucius was surprised by her vehemence. Being pinned by a much larger person and roughly handled was not frightening her in the least. He wondered just how far he could go with her before she confessed her liaison with Potter, sobbing and pleading for him to stop. "You like it hard, witch." Lucius twisted both nipples in his fingers now as he bent to her ear and whispered, "Confess."

"Yes," she cried out as he pinched and twisted just the way she liked. "Harder, please. Please, harder." It had been so long since she'd been handled this way. She missed the glorious ache.

"Slut," he purred, releasing her only to grasp the bodice of her blouse and pull the edges apart, sending the tiny gold buttons flying from the crimson silk. Gryffindor colors he realized. "You wore this for Potter, did you not?"

"What? Oh! Yes. I did." Harry teased her once about turning Slytherin when she met him for lunch in green and silver. Draco had found it amusing and showed up the next day carrying her first crimson blouse with gold buttons for her to wear on her bi-weekly lunch dates with her dear friend. 'Better that Potter should be subjected to your full Gryffindorness,' he'd told her before kissing her soundly. It had been one of her husband's favorite ways of teasing her. He'd understood her relationship with Harry and never felt threatened by it. "I always wear red and gold when I meet him." She wasn't sure why Lucius was interested, other than she rarely wore the colors together at any other time. She'd always preferred shades of blue and green.

Lucius growled at the casual way she confessed. Pulling her arms up, he used her torn shirt to fasten them to the hook above her head. He would need to see about lowering the hook that had been placed for Narcissa's taller height when he wished to fasten her there for his amusement. He reached behind Hermione to unhook her brassier but was puzzled by the solid band.

"It opens in front, Lucius." Hermione was glad she was still in heels or else she'd had needed to be on her toes the way he had her attached. She tested the bonds to make sure nothing was too tight and also to gauge how much she could struggle without working herself loose. Her breath quickened when she discovered he'd made an excellent job of it. She loved being restrained.

Why she was aiding him while struggling to get away, Lucius did not understand. The clasp was another matter he failed to grasp. Finally, he withdrew his wand and holding it the fabric away from her body, he severed it loose.

"That was one of my favorites," Hermione chuckled. Her undergarment maker would be pleased. She'd not had much need of new things without Draco to shred them. The woman had lost a good bit of steady business when he'd died. The chuckle turned to a strangled cry when Lucius pinched almost unbearably hard. "Lucius!" Tears sprang to her eyes.

"You wished for something harder, slut. I intend to give it to you," he growled. "I shall have to have a set of clamps made for you." Lucius would see to it they were worn whenever she left the house to remind her to whom she belonged.

"I … have … Heavens … That hurts." It was not a complaint. "Um—Clamps. Clamps, I have some," she breathed heavily between words. Lucius laughed then, a rich, dark, deadly laugh and Hermione felt a fresh flood of wetness.

"By all means, then. Let us have them fetched. Whimsy!" He summoned the house-elf.

Whimsy was there before Hermione could object. She felt her entire body turn a deep red. The house-elf had seen her undressed before, but never in a sexual context.

"Bring your mistress' special toys," Lucius commanded, not bothering to turn his attention from Hermione. House-elves were there to serve and he had no qualms about using the creatures to fetch for him regardless of what position he was in.

"Master is wantings all of them?" The house-elf looked around the room in distress. "Is not fittings, Master."

"Draco and I have—had a special room, Lucius." Hermione was thankful the house-elf had covered her eyes with her long ears.

"Then, by all means, let us relocate," he said, waving away the house-elf as he lifted down Hermione's arms, keeping them bound as he led her bare breasted through the manor to the wing where she resided, stopping along the way to pinch and bite at her nipples to keep them hard. "Now show me," he commanded.

"Please, Lucius. Let me come." She ached for release and her nipples weren't as used to the sustained torment as they had been. Hermione had no idea why the man kept bringing up Harry while he teased and flogged her but she found it distracting. Every time she tried to float away, he returned to the subject.

"It is too bad that Potter could not satisfy you, slut. Now you shall have to wait until I am ready to—"

"Satisfy me?" Hermione blinked in confusion. "I know you're obsessed with Harry at the moment—though I have no idea why—but that's enough of that, Lucius. Just thinking about Harry trying to—No. No way." She understood from a distant perspective that Harry was very fanciable, but he'd always felt like family to Hermione. "It's like thinking of having sex with a brother."

"Then what were you doing whoring yourself with Potter in Diagon Alley today?" Lucius fisted her hair and yanked her head back, blunting asking and demanding an answer to the question he'd been subtly hinting at for the past half hour.

"I said not to call me that!" Hermione fumed. "Is that what this is about? You saw me hug Harry and kiss his cheek in congratulations and assumed—" It felt as if a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on her. When she shivered next, it wasn't from arousal. It was from anger. "Let … me … go," she said coldly and slowly. Hermione was furious. With Lucius for making such assumptions without simply asking for an explanation for something he didn't understand, but mostly with herself for not seeing that this hadn't been a pleasure game for him.

He had actually meant it as a punishment.

Lucius could not remember a time since finding out Draco had been singled out by the Dark Lord to kill Dumbledore where he had been so angry or felt so impotent.

He had not believed Hermione when she had claimed she only viewed Potter as a brother. He had not released her when she demanded it, and had even turned to inspect the implements on the wall for something stronger than the flogger he had been using to coerce the truth from her.

Lucius had turned back to find himself on the business end of the witch's wand. She had looked every inch the avenging goddess. Nude, flushed from battle with the flogger and strap, her hair virtually sizzling in her fury, Lucius had never seen a more glorious sight.

It was also the last thing he saw before waking up in an emptied room with a large knot on his head.

He had moved to door to hunt the witch down to finish what he had started and found a note stuck at his eye-level.

L —

Answer me this, if Harry wasn't like a brother to me, how was it possible for him to have kissed me in front of Draco and everyone else at my wedding when the bond was already in place?

How many times in the past have you seen me greet Harry or congratulate him in that same manner?

How many more times do you suppose Draco saw the same thing and was not bothered by it?

The next time you want answers, you might try simply asking some questions.

— H

A tight knot of the sort he had not felt since the end the war, settled in Lucius' stomach. The firm control he normally had over his actions had nearly fallen away. He had tried to hurt her, tried to use what he thought was her own promiscuity against her. Everything he had done to her had been met with enthusiasm. Instead of pleading with him to stop, Hermione had pleaded with him for more. The dark haze of his own arousal had made it so he had kept her on edge instead of going too far, still, how much longer would he have continued to hold back before he had done something that might truly have damaged her?

He could admit to himself that her last words of denial had probably brought him to that point.

Lucius found himself profoundly grateful for whatever she had done to free herself. He had broken faith with the family. He had nearly broken one of his own—one who had given herself to the Malfoy family of her own free will. Draco had understood her. He had deserved the honor. It was a hard thing for Lucius to accept that he himself did not.

Hermione didn't like to admit that she was frightened. When she and Draco had set up their playroom, as they'd called it, they had not only furnished it with all the elements they could desire for play, they had also charmed every inch of it for safety. All it had taken for Hermione to release herself from the frame Lucius had bound her to was a whispered safeword.

She hadn't even thought twice before retrieving her wand from her torn skirt and stunning him.

After transfiguring the shreds of her clothing into a dressing gown, she summoned the house-elves and asked them to help her hurry and pack up the room. They looked nervously toward their master but did as she bid. She'd then fled to her rooms where she tossed up every barrier charm she knew, including one she'd invented herself, and cried herself to sleep.

Scorpius and his grandfather stood when his mum excused herself to leave the dining room following supper for the third night in a row. Considering he'd only been home for three days, Scorpius was worried. His mother's letters had included less news of his grandfather lately, but Scorpius had accounted for it by assuming she'd been busy helping her friend Harry with that new youth center in Diagon Alley.

After watching how she'd scarcely looked at his grandfather through yet another meal and talked to him as little as possible, Scorpius had concluded that his grandfather must have done something very boneheaded and was too proud to apologize. Though Scorpius had heard stories of his mother's wrath, he knew that it wasn't her way to hold a grudge against someone who was honestly repentant.

"What did you do?" Scorpius confronted his grandfather once his mother had left the room and the gentlemen retook their seats.

Lucius hardly needed to ask to what the boy was referring. He had hoped that Hermione would let go of her anger once her son returned home for the summer. Apparently he had been wrong on that as well as her relationship with Potter. He wondered how long she would continue to hold his actions against him. "It is not your business, Scorpius. This is between your mother and myself."

He inclined his head, acknowledging that, but refused to drop the subject. "You should apologize, Grandfa."

"You do not know—"

Scorpius glared at him and dared to interrupt. "I know Mum. You did something that hurt her feelings. You should say you're sorry," he told his grandfather firmly. A Malfoy should always take responsibility for his actions. Malfoys also protected their own and his mum wasn't in the room at the moment to speak for herself. "Oh, and give her a hug. Mum likes hugs." He rose and tossed his napkin down on the table without waiting for permission to leave. "Excuse me. I don't think I'm in the mood for chess tonight." He went in search of his mother. If Grandfa wasn't willing to give her hugs when she needed them then Scorpius would.

"No, thank you. Excuse me," Hermione stood to leave. The last thing she wanted was to spend any more time around Lucius Malfoy than she absolutely had to for Scorpius' sake. She wouldn't force her son into taking sides. Scorpius was far too observant and perceptive not to notice her avoidance of his grandfather, however Hermione had resolutely refused to comment. She saw Lucius only at supper in company with her son unless the wizard happened to wander into the library or some other room she was using. In those cases, she would beat a hasty and guarded retreat rather than remain alone with him. She had even sent Lucius her monthly update on the housekeeping account in writing that morning rather than risk discussing the ledger in person.

"No, Hermione. Remain," he said firmly. "Scorpius, you are excused. I need a word with your mother." Lucius had been patient. The delivery of the household accounting this afternoon by owl when they lived in the same house was the final straw. "I wish to discuss the accounts." He did need to address them, however it was merely the first convenient reason he had for holding her beyond supper.

"There is nothing to discuss, Lucius. They are in order." As usual, she didn't bother to add. "I am well within budget as you saw."

"I also saw no accounting for your own personal expenses, Hermione." As mistress of the manor, she had funds allotted to her personally. She had never failed to utilize them prior to the incident, even if she spent far less for frippery than Narcissa had done. Hermione had often donated whatever of her share was left over at the end of the month to one of the many charities she supported. This month, as well as the last, she had not taken so much as a Knut for herself, nor had she given it away. "I thought perhaps you would like to have the mistress' portion sent to Potter's new youth center." The suggestion was a subtle way of making amends. Or so he thought.

Hermione rose with such speed, she knocked over her chair. "I am not your whore, Lucius. You can keep your money. And believe me, if I was not contractually obligated to live here, I would not accept room and board either. You can choke on the mistress' portion for all I care. I cannot be bought." She stormed from the dining room, slamming the door in her wake.

"Mum, have you seen Horus? I can't find him anywhere," Scorpius couldn't leave for Hogwarts without his Kneazle. He'd rather leave behind his broom. Of course that was only because he could send for the broom by owl, Horus wouldn't stand for that.

"I believe your Kneazle was attempting to elude the carrier by hiding under my desk," Lucius said from the doorway. He could feel the sizzle of the spells keeping him out despite the open door. "Would you like me to—"

"That won't be necessary. Thank you, Lucius. I am sure you are far too busy to bother. Scorpius, take Horus from your grandfather and put him in his carrier." Her spells would only keep Lucius out as long as he was not invited in. While she had no intention of allowing Lucius access to her sitting room, Scorpius' invitation would be enough to break the enchantment.

Scorpius knew how much trouble Horus could be to place in his carrier. "It would be a lot easier if you'd put him inside while I hold the carrier, if you don't mind coming in, Grandfa." His grandfather almost never came to their rooms but Scorpius had no idea that currently he wasn't allowed inside.

Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from shrieking at Lucius to stay out and Scorpius for inviting him in. The smirk on Lucius' face told her all she needed to know. The pointy, blond snake had planned this. He'd probably lured Horus away with a bit of the fish she'd ordered for tonight's meal.

"I would be happy to come in and help," Lucius smirked at Hermione as Scorpius' back was turned to reach for the beast's carrier. "I am convinced this creature delights in going where he is not wanted," he chuckled as the double meaning hit Hermione. He vaguely told himself that he really should not take such delight in finally foiling her plans to keep him out.

Had he bothered to learn more about her, Lucius might have realized just how grave an error he had made treating this like a game when to Hermione it was about survival.

"Get. Out." Hermione hadn't needed to draw her wand; she'd already had it in hand before she opened the door to her rooms. There hadn't been time before taking Scorpius to meet the Hogwarts Express to erect new barriers to ward Lucius out of her sitting room but she had the opportunity to place an alert charm to let her know if anyone entered. She and Draco had arranged their living quarters so that they had had a large sitting room for the two of them and Scorpius to spend family time. The family bedrooms opened off the sitting room and she thanked heaven she'd thought to charm her bedroom separately. It was now the only room in the manor where she could feel secure. Unfortunately, between Hermione and her bedroom sat Lucius Malfoy and she was not in the mood to have him lurking outside her haven.

"I thought we might have a nice game of Muggle chess. I understand the rules are the same," he ignored her order to leave. Hermione needed to get used to him again and she could not do that if she kept running away. In truth, he missed her and thought it would only take a little cajoling to make her admit to missing him as well. Lucius reached out to adjust his Queen's Rook only to pull his hand back in shock.

"Do. Not. Touch. That. You don't deserve to touch our chess set," Hermione snarled. "That belongs to me." There wasn't much she considered hers as opposed to belonging to the Malfoys past, present and future, but her beautiful chess set, the one Draco had bought for them before their marriage, was one of them. Lucius had no right to touch it. "I won't have you ruining that for me too."

"It is merely a game, Hermione. Do not be so—" Lucius reached out once more. He would not be deterred.

"Incarcerous!" Hermione shouted in fury as he dared to make light of something that important to her.

Lucius found himself bound to the chair unable to move. "Tsk. Tsk. Naughty witch. Unbind me now and I will take your cooperation into consideration when I punish—"

"Silenco!" Hermione roared. Her hair crackled and escaped the chignon she'd twisted it into for the trip to London. "You may mock me, but you will not befoul anything else I have left of my husband. Do you hear me?" She stomped across the space to where she'd trussed him up. "Whimsy, you're needed, please."

"Yesses, Mistress?" The house-elf squeaked when she saw the master tied to a chair and covered her eyes with her ears.

"I would appreciate it if you would fetch the box for the chess set from storage, pack it up carefully, and put it in my bedroom, please." Hermione reminded herself to remain polite with the house-elf. It would be easy, as furious as she was with Lucius, to simply bark orders. It wasn't Whimsy's fault that Lucius Malfoy was an arse.

"Yes, Mistress. Whimsy is beings very careful with greatest treasures," she bowed before popping off to do as she was bid.

"Now, what to do with you?" A flock of canaries might be temporarily satisfying but they were unlikely to accomplish her goal. Hermione reinforced the charms she'd used to secure the blond snake before going to the locked bookcase where they kept the material they considered not yet suitable for Scorpius' voracious reading habit.

"Top shelf. The Barston's," Draco's portrait offered helpfully. "I know you don't like to use anything too Dark, Hermione, but it needs to be strong. Barston is excellent for staying just inside the line."

"Thank you," she turned a bright and loving smile toward the portrait. He'd always understood her. He'd always considered her security important. The love and care Draco had lavished on her in life had imprinted itself on his portrait. Even though it wasn't actually her husband, it was so like him, that it felt to Hermione as if he was there looking out for her. Her partner, aiding her and helping to keep her safe even after death. "I always could count on you."

Lucius had turned his head to scowl at the portrait of his son when it started helping the witch work against him. He had missed the glorious smile Hermione had beamed at the portrait, however he certainly hadn't missed the adoring way she'd told the blasted thing she could count on it. Nor had he missed the way the tension eased from her face, despite the way she continued to blaze determination. That she should draw comfort from a portrait while denying what he offered her himself angered Lucius. It angered him enough that when the house-elf reappeared with the box for that chess set, he found voice to order it to release him. "Release me, Whimsy," he barked at the creature.

Whimsy squeaked, startled.

"No!" Hermione cried quickly. "No, Whimsy," she added in a gentler tone. "Do you understand why the master is bound or would you like me to explain why it's important he stay that way for a little while?" Both Whimsy and Bacore seemed to be less tense when she explained the requests she made that went against their normal inclinations. Assuming, of course, that she phrased it in such a way that supported their unique view of the world. It had taken Hermione years to move past assigning human needs to house-elves, but once she had made the leap to understanding their unique motivations and symbiotic relationship with wizards, it had become a far easier task to communicate with them in a way that made sense to them.

"Whimsy is understandings, Mistress. Master is not thinkings of family. Master is thinkings of hurtings Mistress. Whimsy is not allowings," the house-elf straightened and scowled at the master then.

"Release me, elf!" Lucius roared. How dare that creature nay say him.

"Whimsy is a free house-elf, Lucius. My marriage contract—That one you like to go on about, remember it?—guaranteed freedom for all current and future Malfoy house-elves," Hermione smirked. As much as she'd blistered at the concessions demanded from her, she'd always considered them worth it for the freedom she'd bought the house-elves.

"Whimsy serves the Malfoy family proudly as a free elf," the house-elf said puffing up.

"And the Malfoy family is proud of its house-elf, Whimsy, and Bacore as well, for seeing to the safety of the current mistress when one of its own has broken faith with the family," Draco's portrait added with short bow of respect reinforcing the correctness of what both Hermione and Whimsy had said as much as a imprinted likeness of a Malfoy could.

"There. That's the last of it," Hermione snapped the book shut in emphasis. She decided to take the book with her to her bedroom to read it all over again to insure she'd left no loopholes for the snake to slither through, but she was confident. Her charmwork had always been solid and she was especially adept at using existing spells in creative ways. "I'd apologize for the jab, but a bit of your blood was necessary to solidify the testicular curse." She'd only taken a drop from his index finger. No more had been needed, although Hermione could admit that she'd felt a bit of satisfaction when he flinched at the prick of the needle she'd chosen to use instead of a spell. Sticking him had been even more satisfying as it helped to relieve a bit of her pent up hostility.

"Now then, let us review," she said, doing her best imitation of her former Transfiguration Professor. There were few role models better at bringing a recalcitrant wizard to attention than Minerva McGonagall. "You, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, are bound from directly or indirectly bringing me bodily harm. I'm certain the mere thought of having your bollocks shrivel up even temporarily is enough inducement to behave?" She raised an eyebrow in a manner copied exactly from the man before her to indicate she wished for him to respond. The curt nod of his head was acceptable for that purpose. "Excellent. Second, you, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, are bound from touching me in any way without my expressed and non-coerced permission. I intend to fully study that one. I'd hate to see your hair disappear because you accidentally bump into me coming around a corner, but for now, I think it's best that we assume that you need to watch where you're going, shall we?" He scowled but nodded again.

Hermione shuffled through her notes. "Oh yes, I mustn't forget this one. You, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, are bound from referring to me out loud in any derogatory manner. Allow me to clarify for you what that means. You shall not refer to me as a whore ever—"

"He did what?" The painted Draco snapped to his feet in the portrait.

Lucius blinked in surprise. He had thought for certain that she had vilified him to the portrait if not to her friend Potter and everyone else.

"That isn't the disease, Draco. It's only a symptom," she said simply.

The portrait apparently understood though Lucius was quite in the dark trying to determine what she meant by that. At the moment, he had no ability to ask, even if he had had the inclination.

"Where was I? You shall not call me derogatory names or refer to me out loud in a derogatory manner. I won't stop you from thinking whatever vile thoughts you have swimming about in that slimy brain of yours but I refuse to listen to those words being applied to me ever again. Having your throat close up and cut off your words should see to that." Hermione stacked her notes and tapped them into a neat stack against the chess table turned research space.

"You do not respect me. I see that clearly now." He looked shocked and she scoffed. "Oh, please. Don't even attempt to deny it. You might respect the Malfoy—a little, very little—but you do not respect Hermione, the witch, or the woman. I don't anticipate that will change. I had thought it had, once you got to know me, but I was wrong. You didn't bother to get to know me beyond what you could use to create an advantage for yourself." She raised her chin. He had hurt her. Hermione had come to regard him as a friend and she'd been willing to trust him on the basis of that and her experience with his son. Lucius might resemble Draco physically, but he was miles away from where Draco had been in understanding. "I won't mistake your intentions regarding me again."

Hermione stood and walked to the door of her bedroom before turning to face him once more. "You are a Malfoy. As a Malfoy myself, I understand my responsibility to the family. You have a grandson who needs you. It is for that reason alone that I am willing to allow you the opportunity to correct your behavior toward me." As reluctant as she was to give Lucius another chance, she had to think of Scorpius before herself. "However … I swear an oath now, that if you make any attempt to undermine the values Draco and I have instilled in our son with your disrespectful ways, I won't hesitate to bring you down." Magic swirled around her as her oath became part of her bond to the Malfoys. Scorpius was her gift to the family's future and her bond understood her pure intentions and commitment.

With a flick of her wand, Hermione canceled the spells holding Lucius in place and keeping him silent. The disappointment on her face as she looked at him one last time before she closed her door burned into him.

"Congratulations on the appointment, Hermione. I'm sure you'll be a wonderful addition to the Board of Governors," the headmistress told her.

"Thank you, Headmistress McGonagall," Hermione was beaming with pleasure. "It is such an honor to be asked to serve."

"Please, call me Minerva. Everyone else on the board does." Minerva poured the tea. "To be truthful, we had hoped to have you take Miranda Goshawk's seat when she retired two years ago, then you lost Draco. We felt it best not to impose on you at that time. I know how difficult the untimely death of a spouse can be, particularly one so young. I lost my own Wallace less than ten years into our marriage."

"Minerva, then. It certainly appears to be a conscientious group," she observed. The women had just come from Hermione's first meeting as a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors and she'd been delighted by the offer to stay and have tea with her former professor.

"Indeed they are. Following the war, it was imperative that we find individuals who truly cared about the well-being of all of our students and understood the value of academic excellence. It didn't hurt that we were able to find volunteers with skills in planning and managing resources as well," Minerva observed.

"I'm sure the level of influence and wealth in that room didn't hurt either." Hermione knew that as a Muggle-born Granger with minimal connections and resources she'd never have been accepted to the Board of Governors without decades more time to establish her place in wizarding society. It was her position as a Malfoy as much as her hard work that made it possible. "I still remember the impassioned speeches you and Kingsley gave calling for people to step up and help rebuild. Draco and I were pleased to have been a part of that." It had been during the rebuilding that their friendship had formed. "Has the Board of Governors ever considered a public service option for the students to give back to the school or community? It's always been important to us that Scorpius understand the responsibility that comes with being a Malfoy, but everyone can contribute in their own way."

Lucius dropped The Daily Prophet in front of Hermione when she arrived at the breakfast table. "When were you planning to inform me of this?"

"Which this, Lucius? I see three things on the front page alone that I've had a hand in," she said with a small amount of pride, St. Mungo's new treatment program for magical beings, the grand opening of the Marauder's Youth Center in Diagon Alley, and her appointment to the Hogwarts Board of Governors. "Apparently it is a slow news day," she said as she passed the newspaper back to him.

"The Board of Governors, Hermione." Lucius did not like that he had needed to discover that the Malfoy family once again held influence over the school through The Daily Prophet. He might have exerted himself on her behalf; although it was more likely he would have attempted to recapture a seat for himself. After all, more than enough time had passed since his removal for people to forgive the reason why he had lost his seat to begin with, and Dumbledore was no longer alive to block a reinstatement.

Hermione had considered mentioning it when the offer was first made, but hadn't wished to jeopardize her candidacy. "I was unsure whether you would be pleased or disgusted by it. Whichever opinion you possessed on the matter, I was convinced that you would say or do something to my disadvantage," she told him honestly. She didn't trust him.

Lucius wondered how the witch always seemed to know these days when he was plotting. He did not like the idea that perhaps she had always known. "I could have helped pave your way. I was a member once myself."

"Yes. I know," she had to stop herself from screwing up her face. "You were an excellent example," she told him, waiting until he started to preen before continuing, "of how not to behave. The Board of Governors is now composed of serious people doing serious work to insure the educational character and integrity of Hogwarts is maintained. It is not the place for influence peddling, shady deals, or personal agendas." Hermione concluded her lecture. He most likely wasn't listening anyway. "I intended to tell you once the appointment was made public. I hadn't expected the newspaper to arrive ahead of me this morning. I apologize for being tardy. The youth center opening ran late."

"Potter," Lucius grumbled. No wonder she was in mood. Hermione was always in a mood when she returned from spending time with Harry Potter. He wished he could say that it was Potter who brought it on. Lucius knew, however, that it was the reminder of his own actions. It seemed the witch intended to make him pay for that for the rest of his life.

"Yes, Harry Potter. We had a lovely time. I think Scorpius will enjoy volunteering there this summer. He would make an excellent tutor for some of the younger children, I believe." She finished her tea. "If you'll excuse me. I have meetings. There is venison stew for your lunch today." He liked it, she knew, although Lucius would never admit to enjoying anything so common. It was the second, and sometimes third, helpings that gave him away. She wasn't so cruel to remove something he obviously liked from his diet because she was disgusted with him. Hermione wished to show him that common decency and consideration for others could make life much more enjoyable for all.

Stopping in the doorway, she turned back to him. "You know, you might consider volunteering yourself. They could use an excellent chess instructor."

Lucius had not expected to enjoy instructing other people's progeny. He had gone to offer his services only because he felt it was the most expedient route to winning back Hermione's favor. Surprisingly, he had found two talented young players who delighted in working on improving their chess skills. The satisfaction he found in helping them gain knowledge and confidence made up for the minor annoyances created by the dunderheads who occasionally sat down to play only because they thought the destruction of one chess piece by another was 'wicked'.

Volunteering at the youth center had been the first time he had much opportunity to observe Hermione around Harry Potter in a relaxed and casual atmosphere. The two of them truly did appear to view the other as family. There was also an ease about them that contrasted sharply with the chilly way Hermione responded to Lucius' own overtures now. While she no longer actively avoided him, neither did she seek out his company by joining him in the evenings to read, chat, or play chess as she had done before the incident. Lucius might not want to admit it, but he missed their nightly chess matches, her laughter, and the warm, genuine attention the witch had provided him.

The worst part of his currently cold situation with Hermione, was not that he continued to sleep alone—although he disliked it immensely—but that his sleep was being plagued with dreams of how she had looked and felt in passion's grip. Lucius had never had a woman abandon herself the way Hermione had when she thought he was doing the things he had done to her for their mutual pleasure. He wondered had he trusted Narcissa more if she would have abandoned herself in the same way without requiring punishment as an excuse for his more extreme tastes. Lucius had always assumed that his wife's transgressions had been her way of subtly indicating her own desire for punishment. Thinking back, he began to question that belief. There was a pang of regret that he would never know for certain if Narcissa's willingness to submit to his desires had been because she had enjoyed it or because he had always demanded it of her.

Lucius was not a man given to much personal reflection. He understood himself well, he believed. He even understood other people more often than not, at least when they were motivated by self-interest or pride, as many were. He truly did believe that it was necessary to know his opponent as he knew himself. The issue was that he too often assigned his own motivations and beliefs to others. That worked well enough for people who were like himself, but it fell apart when he tried to apply it to people like Hermione.

The witch was not a saint. Lucius had not made that mistake. He knew she was full of pride and opinions. He saw that she ached to be recognized and appreciated; yet he erroneously thought it was because she wanted to be acknowledged as the best at everything she did. His mistake was in not recognizing how much she strove to prove herself, and how she ached to be accepted, appreciated, and valued for who she was outside of her accomplishments. Draco could have explained it to him. Scorpius even understood it on an internal level, because as much as he looked like his father, he was still very much his mother's son. But Draco was dead and Scorpius was too young for such conversations.

Lucius Malfoy was no stranger to change. It was his nature to adapt; he had done so many times in his life. Those times had primarily come from necessity and were key to his survival. He had changed from the proud, egotistical Malfoy scion to an obedient servant when he had learned that becoming a Death Eater was not about gaining power over others for himself, as he had thought, but about serving the Dark Lord's interests above his own. He had changed from Death Eater to philanthropist at the end of the first war to appear as if he had actually been under an Imperious as he'd claimed. He had exchanged his role as philanthropist back for that of obedient servant at the return of the Dark Lord to stay alive. When he needed to change at the end of the last war to meet the terms of the pardon that kept him out of Azkaban, he did that as well. Yes, Lucius could change. But it was change he forced upon himself, brought on by extreme circumstances he had been unable to fully manipulate or control. Never, had it been change because he wanted to be a different person.

It had certainly never been because he felt he needed to be a better person.

"You know, the offer to move in here still stands," Harry said placing a steaming bowl of chicken soup in front of Hermione. "You're not happy there, Hermione."

"I know, Harry. But I can't. I agreed to stay when I married Draco and I can't go back on my word simply because he's no longer there. Scorpius needs to learn how to manage the estate and he can't do that visiting his grandfather on occasional weekends." She inhaled deeply. "It smells delicious. You'll make some witch a fine husband someday," she told him with a teasing grin.

"Well it's not hard to cook something good when you're gathering food from a market instead of a forest," he replied as he usually did when she complimented his culinary skills. "Don't change the subject, Hermione. You could stay here while Scorpius is at Hogwarts at least," he added a basket of warm bread to the table then took his own seat. "I don't like the thought of you there with him alone. He stares at you when you're not looking." Harry's forehead creased in a frown. Harry had never lost his saving people thing. She hoped he never did. It helped her remember what was important in life and inspired her to be the sort of person worthy of the friendship of such a great wizard.

"I know," she said with a sigh, letting her spoon dangle for a moment as she thought about how to phrase her situation in a way that wouldn't send him straight to Malfoy Manor to confront Lucius. "We were becoming friends. At least I'd thought so. I was wrong."

"Hermione Granger admits she was wrong. Excuse me for a moment while I find a quill to jot that down in my diary, will you?" Harry nudged her.

Hermione snorted but she was relieved to see that the worry lines had faded from his face. "Don't start, Potter. And it's Hermione Malfoy now, as you well know."

"Would you care for a game of chess this evening, Hermione?" Lucius asked after the pudding was served. He had been on his best behavior for months. He had even taken back up the role of philanthropist to prove to her that he had changed. "I thought we might discuss starting a foundation for the continuing support of St. Mungo's efforts toward providing care for magical beings." She had been instrumental in the establishment of that program and Lucius felt that was an excellent avenue for showing her he had changed as she had hoped.

Hermione sat her fork down and narrowed her eyes. "What are you up to now, Lucius Malfoy?" The man didn't give two Knuts about the house-elves other than that they appeared when he wanted something, and it was obvious that he disdained goblins and other non-wizard beings.

Perhaps he had not chosen as wisely as he had thought he had done. Then again, perhaps she was only testing him. It was likely that she would want proof of the changes she had desired. "I thought that it would be wise to secure the future of the program. You may not be aware of how fickle admini—"

"Yes, I am more than aware of that. What I am not aware of at the moment is why you profess to care." Health care for magical beings was important to Hermione but it wasn't nearly high profile enough to attract someone who only gave for his own benefit like Lucius.

"Is it not enough that it is a worthy cause?" Lucius sat down his own fork. This was not going as planned. He decided that perhaps a judicious application of honesty would help her see he was sincere. "You had hopes I would change, Hermione. I am trying to show you that I have done so."

Hermione closed her eyes and fought the desire to growl and make a strangling motion in the air. She could cheerfully wring his scaly neck right now. It wasn't that she hadn't noticed his donations of Galleons and even his time to assorted causes lately. She had. She simply hadn't figured out why. Now she knew. Lucius still didn't get it, but Hermione supposed it wouldn't hurt to applaud his effort for trying. "Right then," she said opening her eyes and forcing herself to remain calm. "Thank you for your consideration. I'm sure St. Mungo's would appreciate your effort on its behalf. I know the administrator and Healer in charge of the program would welcome your help as well. I'll be happy to introduce you to them so that you can learn what their needs are."

"I thought that we could work together on this, Hermione," Lucius gave her what he considered to be his most charming smile.

Patience, Hermione. Patience. She cautioned herself not to blow up at the slimy snake despite his oily smile. "No. I don't have time for a new project at the moment." Which was completely true. She was nearly always overextended these days. Hermione had filled the time she'd formerly spent with Scorpius, and then some, with projects to keep herself from feeling as lonely as she was. "I do think you should pursue it if it interests you, though. And only if it interests you, Lucius."

"I do not understand, Hermione." It rankled him that she was foiling his plans for making amends. "This is what you desired. I have displayed an interest in your projects and I am attempting to show that I value—"

"Stop. Just stop," Hermione held up her hand and cut him off. "I never asked you to change yourself, Lucius. I know you're a conceited, arrogant, infuriating prat who lives to work any situation to his best advantage. I was married to someone like that for nearly fifteen years. Some people might think me odd for it, but I happen to like those qualities. They're a large part of what makes you you. You're clever, resourceful, and I never have to worry about whether or not you'll do the things that need to be done because I know that you're too proud to let things go." Hermione almost laughed at the look of surprise on his face. Perhaps she should have thought to have this conversation long ago.

Draco had always known she valued him and why, just as Hermione had always known what her husband saw in her. The value they placed on each other, and later on Scorpius, as being unique and special just as they were, had always been equal to the value they had placed on family. It was those things combined, Draco had always said, that made them worthy of being Malfoys. The family had once been great for more than its wealth. It had influence because they were leaders. The family had defined noblesse oblige in the time before Tom Riddle had reinvented himself as Lord Voldemort and targeted the family for his own ends. Malfoys had been superior, because truly being ambitious, clever and cunning, they had strived for excellence in their fields of study, the management of their estate, their care of those who worked their lands, and their support of the greater community to which they belonged. They were great then, not because they were Malfoys, but because being Malfoys, they strove to live up to the name and the history of their family. They didn't seek to rule over others so much as help those with less resources contribute to the best of their own abilities. That was the family she had joined in good faith. That was the sort of man Draco had become once he'd pulled his head out of his arse following the war. And it had been the qualities that made Draco a Malfoy, along with his appreciation of her, that Hermione had loved most.

She realized now that Lucius more closely resembled the boy Draco she'd loathed at Hogwarts, than the mature man she found friendship, and then love, with after the war. She still wasn't sure if Lucius would ever respect her, but she thought that perhaps if she could teach him to respect himself and the family equally first, he might be able to learn to respect her. It was certainly worth a try, if for no other reason than the irony of a Muggle-born Gryffindor witch teaching a Malfoy how to truly be a Malfoy.

Lucius did not like feeling inadequate, however that was precisely the way he felt at the moment. He was the head of the Malfoy family, its leader, the person who should be looked at to set the tone, provide the guidance, and secure its future for those who would come after.

He still felt furious when he thought about how the witch had spent an entire evening lecturing him on the history of the Malfoys and their role in society, yet he thought that perhaps it was not Hermione he was angry with but himself. When he thought back on it, he could clearly remember the way she had glowed with pride for his family. It was the way Draco's eyes had shone when he was told about his family when he was young. It was the way Scorpius held himself higher when he walked through the portrait gallery exchanging words with his ancestors. It was the way Lucius supposed he had felt himself when he was very young and his own grandfather had taken him up on his shoulders to better see the portraits and listen to the family history.

When she had begun again the following night, lecturing not on the generations that had come before, but on the contributions of her husband to his family, he had nearly walked away. It was only the opportunity to stay in her company that kept him there at first. It had not taken long for her to completely draw him in.

He had always assumed that it had been Narcissa's choice to risk sacrificing herself by lying to the Dark Lord in order to find their son that had saved the Malfoy reputation. Perhaps that had been a part of it, however it was not all. He had also assumed that the fact that he had been wandless at the Battle of Hogwarts had been what brought leniency at his trial. The truth of the matter was more complex than he had ever imagined.

Lucius had had no idea that it had been Hermione Granger, as she was then, who had convinced Potter to give testimony supporting Draco's claim that he had been forced into the ranks of the Death Eaters before he had even come of age. He had not known that she had been careful when giving her statements following the war to make it clear that when the Snatchers brought her group to Malfoy Manor, Draco had openly refused to identify Harry Potter and the others. He had not known how Hermione had made certain it was told that the Malfoys themselves had not participated in Bellatrix's interrogation by torture because she felt she owed them that in return for what Draco had tried to do for her and her friend Harry. His son's denial of Potter's identity created a debt of honor in Hermione's mind, and her way of repaying the debt was to see to it that the way was paved for all the Malfoys to make their case for having had no choice but to do as they did during the war if they had wished to live.

He had known Draco had worked long hours on the clean-up and reconstruction of Hogwarts, but Lucius had not known that his son had put in so many hours so that Lucius himself would not be required to do the same. He had thought that Draco had gone on to work with the Wizengamot following the re-opening of Hogwarts in order to regain influence for the Malfoys and see to it that the laws and proclamations under review could be worded to the family's advantage. At least in that, he had partially been correct. What he had missed was his son's fuller motivation. Draco had wanted to once more feel pride in his name, and his desire was not to secure what was best only for the Malfoys, but for all of society.

Much as Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt had spearheaded reconstruction, Harry Potter had been the public face supporting reconciliation. It had been the young persons of his son's generation who had led the way in working together. Lucius had known that much from The Daily Prophet. What he had not known was that behind the scenes his son had much to do with Potter's successful pleas. Hermione explained that it had always been Draco's knowledge of wizarding culture and history that had helped her write Harry's speeches and plan the reconciliation projects that would have the largest impact. Lucius had known Draco was involved with Potter and his ilk, yet he had always attributed it to Draco's understanding of the influence they had and were gaining daily. It had never occurred to him that Draco had been such an instrumental part of it all.

He wondered when he had lost touch with his family to the point that he would not have recognized the Draco that Hermione described as his own son. When he had said as much, Hermione had pointed out that he had little opportunity while he had been in Azkaban and kindly gave him the excuse that the war had been hard on them all. It was difficult to think about more than the most immediate concerns and keeping yourself and your immediate circle alive when you were fighting for your life.

She had called what happened to him following the war being insulated. Lucius could see that she was attempting to be gentle with his feelings, however this time, he completely understood. Lucius Malfoy finally saw that it had been his lack of interest in things that did not directly involve him that led him away from his son and family.

"You're wallowing. It's not only unattractive, it's unproductive, you know." Hermione told him, looking up from her book to focus on Lucius. "I highly recommend that you sort yourself out soon. Why don't you go play chess with the children? It might make you feel better to do something useful rather than mope about the manor."

"I do not need you to plan my schedule, Hermione. I am not Scorpius," he said petulantly.

Hermione raised her book to hide her smile. She didn't quite manage to hide the amusement in her voice when she answered. "No, you're not. Scorpius is excellent at time management."

"Lucius?" Hermione knocked on the open door of his study to gain his attention. "Do you have plans for Saturday next?"

Lucius looked up from the account ledger. "Are you concerned I am under scheduled again?" His lips quirked up slightly. He could admit that filling his time had helped him come to terms with himself. What was more, he was certain Hermione knew it. The witch seemed to know what he needed before he knew himself.

"Actually, I'm hoping you're under scheduled that day. It seems that one of the perks of being on Hogwarts' Board of Governors is that I'm allowed to attend Quidditch matches." She grinned and waited for him to work it out.

Lucius feigned consideration of the date. He knew perfectly well why she was so pleased with herself. He was pleased as well. "That Saturday is the Slytherin-Ravenclaw match, I believe."

"Indeed it is. And I checked; I am allowed to bring a guest. Would you care to accompany me while we watch Scorpius and his teammates annihilate the competition? Ahem," she schooled her expression into one of prim seriousness. "I mean view the sportsmanlike manner in which both teams engage in friendly competition?"

"He will fly the pants off the competition," Lucius chuckled. He would be delighted to watch his grandson play.

"Of course he will. He is a Malfoy," Hermione agreed. "Be ready by nine. I like to be prompt."

"You will be ten minutes early," he countered.

"Exactly."

"Shall we go Side-Along?" Hermione asked as she tugged on her glove.

"You would trust me?" Lucius watched her with interest as she looked up and smiled.

"I believe I am willing to give you the opportunity to prove you are trustworthy, yes," she raised her chin and gave him a smug smile.

Lucius smiled back and offered his arm. He knew her well enough now to know that look meant she was in an excellent mood and feeling feisty. This was shaping up to be quite a day. "Then by all means, I would be delighted to take you, my dear."

Hermione took his arm, careful to focus on her willingness. She doubted Lucius would appreciate losing his hair. It wouldn't be long before she lifted the curse that prevented him from touching her without her consent. She had considered doing it when she removed the curse on his language last week but thought he would appreciate it more if he had to earn the ability to touch her by proving himself in small ways first. Apparating her to the gates of Hogwarts seemed like a safe first step. "You haven't called me 'my dear' in some time," she observed.

"I thought you might appreciate hearing me call you by name instead of an endearment, Hermione. To be truthful," he did not miss that her head turned to regard him closely to make sure what he said next actually was the truth, "I also thought that it would aid me in remembering that I was trying to get to know you as Hermione instead of you as a Malfoy." He had started it because he thought it would please her, however in doing so, he had learned it helped him keep his goal in focus. Lucius always had been goal oriented.

She nodded. It was sound thinking and actually showed he'd put a bit of thought into how best to address her. "And what is different today?"

"Today, we are both Malfoys going to support one of our own, are we not?" At least he intended to support Scorpius and Slytherin. She might think she needed to be more impartial.

"Absolutely."

Hermione renewed the warming charm on her cloak. It was a close game. The wind had picked up over the last hour and now the sky was threatening rain. She hoped Scorpius had remembered to cast the proper spells over himself to repel the cold and damp so he wouldn't become ill playing in this weather. Hermione chuckled at herself. Her son might only be a second year but he was an intelligent boy capable of taking care of himself. A loud crack of thunder startled her and she added an Impervius while her wand was out. It wouldn't do for her to catch a cold either.

Not long after the rain began, Scorpius caught sight of the Snitch and raced toward it. The Ravenclaw Seeker was closer but hadn't spotted it yet, though she had spotted Scorpius' mad dash and was desperately looking around for what he saw. Hermione wrung her hands as a Bludger came within inches of hitting him and would have done had he not rolled himself out of the way. The Ravenclaw Beaters attempted another intercept but the Bludger was beaten back by the pair from Slytherin. Hermione couldn't see the Snitch herself in the rain but Lucius leaned over slightly without taking his eyes from the Pitch to tell her where to look. When she found it, Hermione had to admit the man had excellent vision. The Snitch darted off but Scorpius kept it in view. Ravenclaw's Seeker had it now too and it was a race to see who would get to it first. Hermione only hoped the two didn't collide.

She should have hoped for a little more.

Lightning speared down from the sky. The bright streak temporarily blinded her and when she found her son again, he was careening off in a wild spiral headed into a low section of the Hufflepuff stands where he hit the wall and fell to the cold, wet ground of the Pitch.

"Hey," Scorpius said, blinking as he woke up. "I got it, didn't I? We won?"

"Yes, you caught it and held on to it as well. Superb performance, Scorpius," Lucius said with pride.

"Was that really lightning?" He asked as the matron buzzed around him, casting spells and asking him how many fingers she was holding up.

"Yes, it was really lightning. You gave me a dreadful fright," Hermione squeezed his hand. She'd been holding it for the past hour praying he'd wake soon.

"Sorry, Mum. Didn't mean to," he squeezed back. "My ears are ringing," Scorpius told the matron.

"As are ours," Lucius told him, "from the thunder. It was the shock wave that caused your accident."

Scorpius nodded, looking at his grandfather in confusion. His cloak was on and his hood was up. "Are you leaving, sir?"

"No, Scorpius. I will remain here with your mother until she is satisfied you are safe and is willing to leave you in the care of Madam Bumfries." Lucius did not wish to leave until he was satisfied either. He knew why Scorpius had asked, however he did not volunteer any additional information. It was embarrassing enough that the entire staff and everyone en route had seen.

"Your grandfather ran a foul of a curse, Scorpius. It's best for now that he stay cloaked," Hermione told him. "There are no worries. I'll sort him in no time once we return home."

"Who cursed you, Grandfa?" Scorpius squinted to see what there was beneath the hood but it made his head hurt.

"I did," Hermione said with chagrin. "It was an accident."

Lucius snorted. "It was no such thing, Hermione. You needed my support and I acted with full knowledge of the consequences. The fault is my own. It will grow back." He looked at her. "It will grow back, will it not?"

"Oh! Yes. I wouldn't leave you permanently bald, Lucius."

"There," Hermione said setting her wand down on top of her notes. "I have to apologize again for embarrassing you." Lucius had a great deal of pride. It had never been her desire that he touch her without permission and lose all his hair in front of others.

"Do not trouble yourself. Your need to reach Scorpius as quickly as possible was greater than my need to maintain my dignity. As long as photographs do not make it into The Daily Prophet I believe I will come out of this unscathed." He had grasped her arm and escorted her as quickly as he could through the throng of people. The titters and gasps of those who caught sight of his bald head when the wind snatched his hood back had been less important to him than his grandson or Hermione's safety and speed in navigating through the crowd. "I will admit I hadn't expected to lose all of my hair, however."

"Well, neither did I. I hadn't realized it would all dissolve." Hermione thought he was taking this with extraordinarily good humor. "Thank you again, Lucius. I appreciate you being there for me."

"You are a Malfoy, Hermione. I could do no less," he inclined his head and gave her a small bow.

"Now then, I think I should lift the final curse before—"

"No," Lucius interrupted, shaking his head. "No. I am … flawed. I am learning but I am not yet sure that I should be trusted not to bring you bodily harm. My … desire for you has not abated. If anything, it has grown stronger. Knowing how gloriously you respond, it would be a challenge for me—"

Hermione leaned over and cut him off with a kiss. It was their first. When she removed her lips from his, she whispered in his ear. "Next lesson: how to tell the difference between consensual acts and abuse."

Lucius growled and pulled her down into his lap, pleased he didn't have to worry about losing his recently re-grown hair and eyebrows. "Tomorrow. Tonight's lesson is how to show proper appreciation for one's partner."

"I believe I can accommodate that scheduling change," Hermione purred. Reaching behind her, she picked up her wand and cast a spell.

"What did you do?" he asked, honestly curious.

"We haven't grown back all of your hair yet. I thought it only fair that if you had no hair to get in my way of showing appreciation, then I shouldn't have any to get your way either," Hermione explained with a sexy smirk.

Lucius tossed back his head and laughed. "Wanton witch," he said fondly as he hugged her close. He decided right then that Malfoy men did indeed need hugs. "You are a delight, Hermione."

"You're certain you want to try this?" Draco stroked her bare arse. He could feel the rise of a few welts and the way she shivered in anticipation of what they planned to do next.

"Draco, if you don't want to, just tell me as much. What applies to me not doing anything I'm not comfortable with should apply to you as well." She could tell he was nervous.

"It isn't that I don't want to, Hermione. Merciful gods, witch, I've dreamed of possessing you like this," he caressed her arse again. He was nervous. This night would set the tone for what was to come and it was important that she enjoy it all.

"Then what is it?" she asked gently.

"I've never done this before. I have an idea of what needs to be done to prepare you but I'm worried I might hurt you, Hermione, and not in a good way," Draco confessed. It was hard to admit, when she was looking to him to teach her, that he was as much of a novice as she.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. I never expected you would know everything. In fact, I hadn't expected you to know as much about all of this as you do. I thought that a lot of it we'd be learning together as we experimented." In fact, as much as it had relieved her to learn that he had an interest in the sorts of things she wanted to experiment with, she was far more relieved to find that there were at least a few things he wasn't experienced with either. "Am I, or am I not, the cleverest witch you know?"

Draco bent and kissed the top of her gloriously shaped bottom. "Definitely the cleverest. Sexiest too," he added, waggling his eyebrows at her as she looked at him over her shoulder.

"Then let me up so I can get my notes. I've researched this thoroughly, you know." She had found some lovely spells to make it all very hygienic as well as ease his way.

He laughed in absolute delight as she bounded away to fetch her research. Draco felt his tension melt away. "Of course you have. Gods, how I love you."

"You do?" she turned and looked at him. He'd said it with such feeling that she wanted to believe for she'd lost her heart to him as well.

She looked so vulnerable and hopeful standing there that he'd had to go to her and take her in his arms. "On my honor as a Malfoy, Hermione."

Hermione shrieked with pleasure and Lucius looked at her in surprise. "I thought you needed permission?" He was not at all displeased. It would have been impossible to be disappointed the way her cunt pulsed around his cock.

"You … You're g—g—giving it," she managed to force out before she exploded again. "Please, Lu—Oh, gods!" Hermione swallowed hard in the breath between the last orgasm and the next. "Le—le—let … go … of … my … bum." She desperately needed an opportunity to breathe.

He released the grip he had on her arse cheek as she managed to tell him what she needed. Lucius had given his word when Hermione asked for his promise that he would not try to force her into anything she did not want. He was determined to give her no reason to claim he did not live up to his word. The hand that had gripped that perfect bottom moved to gently push the wild tangle of curls back from her face as she calmed. "Are you all right?" Lucius had stilled his hips but not unsheathed himself. She not asked for that and when he had done it earlier to tease her, Hermione had shrieked at him to put it back. He had never had such an active or vocal bed partner. He had quickly determined that he liked it.

"You can move now," she tilted her hips and pressed up against him to encourage his movement. "Only please, for heaven's sake, have mercy and don't hold my bond mark for so long. I'm too old to come more than three or four times in succession."

Lucius raised his eyes to hers. "Your bond mark?" He had always been curious about the Malfoy crest that decorated her body.

"It's on the inside of my left bum cheek," she told him, moving her legs up a little higher to give herself more leverage for meeting his strokes. His grip on her arse had pressed his finger against it. "It sets me off every time."

Lucius laughed joyously and kissed her. She was amazing. He had never felt so powerful in his life or so free.

"Heavens. That was…"

"Brilliant," he finished for her as the magic finished swirling and sparkling around them. Draco gently withdrew from her body. His face split into a grin at the small, silver Malfoy crest that had formed from the sparkling magic beside his thumb where he'd been holding her open. Not only would he have to marry her now, no one, not even his father, would be able to keep him from it. She was one of them now.

Hermione had given herself completely to her wizard and accepted everything he offered.

Draco had laid claim to every inch of his witch inside and out, and in return, had offered her not just himself, but his birthright.

They had brought their hearts, minds and souls together, and their magic had responded to their love, devotion, and their determination to join together.

She had joined not only with him but his purpose. He had secured not only his own future, but also the future of his family. He felt it in every fiber of his being.

"You will be an amazing Malfoy."