Horrified, Hermione stood frozen in place. Here she was, completely naked, in front of none other than Lucius Malfoy, who unabashedly studied her body.

“Liar!” She hissed, even though Hermione knew it was her own fault – as if it had been a good idea to trust the honour of this man from the start. Her heart beating furiously, she waited for him so say something or move or do anything, but Lucius just stood there, examining her with a strangely intense expression.

Suddenly, Hermione realized that Lucius Malfoy was a man – and she a woman. Her eyes widened in shock and all she wanted to do was flee from this bathroom, but Malfoy obviously could read her mind. Before she was able to take even one step, he had grabbed her and pulled her firmly into his arms.

“Are you afraid, little lioness?” Lucius purred. The low voice of the older man vibrated in his chest and Hermione started to shiver ever so slightly. Never before had she even thought of seeing the father of Draco Malfoy as a man, regardless of how odd their previous encounters had been. But now he forced his way into her consciousness, showing her that at this moment he stood in front of her only as a man, as a man who saw the woman in her. She noticed the faint smell of alcohol. If Hermione had not been convinced before that this man was about to disregard his prejudices against her and her blood status, it was now absolutely clear that his judgement was obviously clouded by firewhisky. Her breathing quickened while heat crept up her body.

“Mr Malfoy…” she whispered, but she realized it was too late to escape. Warm fingers forced her chin up, forced her to look directly into those icy blue eyes. Eyes that now, even though the face still showed no signs of emotion, betrayed desire. The slight shiver grew stronger and Hermione could not deny that more than fear was the cause for that.

“You came to me on your own will, little one, and I will definitely not let go of you!” Lucius murmured.

Desperately Hermione shook her head: “You deliberately entrapped me! That has nothing to do with free will!”

Amused he let one finger wander over her cheek: “What malicious thing to presume. You even knew you shouldn’t trust me, but you still came to me. You want this as much as I do.”

Before she had time to answer, he had pushed her backwards against the wall. Casually, one arm next to her head, the other hand on his hips, he leaned in and softly blew into her ear. Goosebumps travelled Hermione’y body.

“See?” He smirked: “Your body betrays your lies.”

Without giving her time to react, his left hand grabbed her hair, slowly pulled her face to his and captured her lips in a passionate kiss. Hermione felt her knees give in. Yes, she wanted this. Her body wanted it. This tall, strong man, experienced, dangerous and a little drunk, he had this aura that at the same time frightened and aroused her. But her mind just could not let go the fact that his loyalties were more than questionable. With the tiniest bit of self-control she had left, she put her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

Confused, Lucius opened his eyes. He was sure the young woman was as aroused as he was – why did she suddenly pull away? Reluctantly, he stepped back to look her in the eyes. What he saw there answered all his questions. It was a mixture of suspiciousness, regret and honest lust that brightened the brown eyes of Hermione. The fact that he was a death eater stopped her from giving in to her bodies wishes, stopped her from doing what was so natural between man and woman. He sighed. It was exactly this sharp intelligence, coupled with the pesky courage of a Gryffindor and her young age of sixteen that had him bewitched. That she did not just throw herself at him, but on the contrary controlled her feelings made her only all the more desirable. He could just take her. Ignore whether she wanted it or not. Just use raw force to satiate his lust, feel her young body beneath him, her soft skin…

Abrupt, Lucius pushed himself away from the wall he had used to entrap her. His thoughts had gone down a dangerous path, and he knew this was not the way he wanted to go. He wanted to feel Hermione’s passion, wanted her to tremble under the lust engulfing her body – lust for him. With another sigh he stepped further away and gave her free.

To his greatest astonishment, Hermione did not immediately run away, but just stood there, rooted on the spot, observing him with big, alert eyes, her breath heavy, obviously still struggling with her own arousal.

He would give it one last try.

“I see that you want, but don’t dare,” He told her as softly as his coarse voice would permit.

She nodded.

She actually, really wanted this. Now even more than before. He had cut off the kiss as soon as he had felt her struggle, had stepped away when he noticed her doubts. Contrary to her expectations, he was a perfect gentleman – just like back then, when he had saved her from Krum. This tiny gesture showed her that he did not belong to that kind of men that would just take without asking. He could have used force, but did not. It was almost frustrating that he had stopped now.

“Forget who you are and who I am, Hermione!” His dark, striking voice told her: “In this place, at this moment, I am standing before you as just a man. A man that desires you as a woman. Nothing else matters.”

As though he had put her under a spell, any doubts left Hermione. In front of her was a man who found her desirable. Not a Ron who confused make up and submission with beauty. Not a Krum who put her on a pedestal and worshipped her only to later devour her. Without a second thought, Hermione stepped forward and violently ripped open his shirt.

It was as if Lucius had only waited for this cue. Within seconds he rid himself of any clothing. With an experienced grip, he turned Hermione around and guided her hands to the stone wall so that she could find support there. Then, his hands closed around her breasts and the heat that before had only simmered deep down in her broke loose with full force. A lustful sob escaped her lips as she was suddenly aware of the long, hard length of the man behind her. Instinctively, she rubbed herself against Lucius, forcing a moan from him.

“Slow down, you hungry little lioness!” Lucius hissed, but he was obviously not able to heed his own words. One hand left her breasts and travelled down, down until he found her hips, and even further down between her legs. First only light as a feather, but with ever rising pressure, he let his fingers dance between her womanly folds.

Then, without a word of warning, two fingers intruded her body. A loud gasp escaped Hermione, not only because of surprise, but also because of the strange, uncomfortable feeling.

“Tell me,” Lucius groaned, “are you still a virgin?”

A single nod was all Hermione could give him while she tried to concentrate all her senses on the two fingers inside her. She thought she heard Lucius cursing, but her attention was elsewhere, captured by the new and exciting sensations arising from between her legs.

“I will give you this last chance,” Lucius told her with the last bit of self-control he had: “If you now tell me to stop, I will let you go.”

The only answer Hermione could give him was a suggestive roll with her hips, but Lucius did not need more. Using both hands, he firmly grabbed her butt, parting her folds with his thumbs. Hermione could feel the heat of his rock hard member directly behind her, sensed how big he was. Suddenly, despite her lust, panic swept her body, but before she could stop the older wizard, he pushed into her with one long, slow but forceful move.

Desperate, Hermione tried to relax her muscles, but the pain and the shock about the sudden intrusion were too much. Before she had any chance to adjust herself to the feeling of being filled completely, she felt the man behind her start to move.

“Stop,” She cried desperately: “Mr Malfoy, please … it hurts!”

A strangled groan was her only answered. She realized, he would not stop now. Before the panic could rob her of all senses, she felt one of his hands moving away from her butt, around and back to her clit. While Lucius was not stopping in his movement, he started to rub and squeeze her most sensitive part of the body. Then, suddenly, all pain was gone, replaced by a quickly building feeling of never before known arousal. Hermione shut her before wide open eyes and again concentrated on the sensations between her legs, his cock inside her, that seemed impossibly large just moments ago. Now, all she could think of was how perfect it felt.

As if he knew that her pain was gone, Lucius put his hand back on her hips and quickened his pace. Deep down somewhere in his brain he knew he should feel bad to take an unexperienced young girl this way, but he was too thrilled by exactly this fact to care. The sighs and sobs, heavy with lust, that escaped Hermione’s lips, were enough proof for him that she enjoyed herself. She loved his unforgiving, dominant love-making. His hands would leave marks on her hips and butt, she would ache in places she never knew could hurt afterwards, but that did not matter at this very moment. The only thing that mattered for Lucius Malfoy was the hot feeling of her inside, the sound of wet skin on wet skin and her little cries of pleasure. His movements grew quicker, harder, as he tried to bury himself ever deeper inside of her, until, with one last stroke, he came.

Hermione felt Lucius come inside of her, heard the heavy, ragged breath while he still struggled for composure after his climax. Then, when he finally stepped away, she felt strangely empty. Still hot all over her body, she turned around to look at him.

“I suppose I should apologise for the way I took you just now,” Lucius smirked: “But to be honest, I really am not sorry.”

Hermione nodded: “I wouldn’t have taken you for a gentle lover anyway.”

An almost wolfish grin appeared on his face: “Good. You liked it well enough yourself, obviously.”

It annoyed her how smug he was, so she could not stop herself from replying: “Well, I didn’t actually come …”

“Would be too much to ask for your first time, anyway,” Lucius brushed her complaint off, but he did not stop there: “But if you ever feel like repeating this or if you just want to know what a real orgasm feels like … just ask Draco to owl me.”

Hermione snorted: “Yeah, sure. You know exactly that I’ll never do that.”

He smiled and nodded. For a short moment, both eyed each other. Then, Lucius grabbed his pants and before Hermione knew what he was doing, he had her pushed up against the wall again, kissing her hard and passionately. Even though every little part of her body screamed for more, Hermione forced herself to not give in to this man’s triumph, to not show him how very much turned on she was again. She did not respond to the kiss.

He obviously saw through her, because when he let go of her, he just smirked and patted her cheek. Then, with his clothes in his hands, he left the bathroom.

Hermione was left behind, standing confused. She just had had sex with Lucius Malfoy – and she had loved it. She had actively thrown away her doubts. She had simply ignored the fact that he was a death eater. But he was right: She had liked it and she regretted nothing.




Her heart was beating furiously and her breath was ragged. Somewhere in the labyrinth of the corridors between the huge storage racks she had lost Harry and the others, noticing now that she had no idea where the exit was. Panicked she looked around herself, but wherever she looked, there were only endless storage racks full of prophecies. It had been a ridiculously stupid idea to come to the ministry in the first place, she had felt it from the beginning. The surprise Death Eater attack proved her right.

Running while simultaneously looking in all directions, Hermione didn’t notice the tall figure in front of her. She bumped right into him and fell to her knees.


Shocked, she gazed at the tall man in black robes. The same blonde hair, the same deep voice like in the bath just a few weeks ago. Only back then he hadn’t pointed his wand at her threateningly.

“Liar!” Hermione screamed and threw herself at him. The moment she had recognized him as he had approached Harry in his typical arrogant way to steal the prophecy, her stomach had turned ice cold. Only then had she realized that she had slept with a Death Eater, with one of the closest allies of Lord Voldemort.

“How could you? How could you?” Hermione sobbed hysterically, punching him over and over again.

“I never lied, Hermione!” Lucius whispered: “You knew who I were. You knew where my loyalties lie.”

“No! I didn’t! During that time … in the bath … you were different!”

“You shouldn’t be here, Granger!” Malfoy told her hurriedly: “You need to get out of here.”

With that he pushed her away and pointed to a corridor to her right: “Run and don’t look back. Escape now, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety!”

Distraught, Hermione looked after him, but then thoughts of her friends pulled her out of the daze and let her follow his instructions.

She was actually a bit surprised when she finally met Ron, who noticed her tear struck face but didn’t ask any questions. They had to find Harry, Luna, and Neville and then escape this labyrinth full of Death Eaters as quickly as possible. She would think later about why Lucius Malfoy had actually helped her.




“Ron, please wait!”

Surprised, he turned back to her: “What’s the matter, Hermione? You just said we’ll be late if we don’t hurry. Ginny’s been waiting for ages at the bridal salon, I bet!”

“Yes, I know, I know, but I think I just saw someone … I just want to say Hi real quick.”

With that Hermione left her fiancé’s side, who still seemed rather confused. With long steps she approached a tall man with long, blonde hair.

“Mr Malfoy!”

The man stilled and turned around: “Miss Granger!”

Unsure of what to actually say, Hermione stepped in front of the Ex-Death Eater. He watched her with open curiosity, but when words failed her, he simply smiled: “I congratulate you to your engagement witch Ronald Weasley.”

Wrinkling her nose, Hermione stared into his eyes: “We both know you don’t mean that, so don’t even try.”

“Right,” Lucius hissed and before Hermione realized what he was doing, he had grabbed her and dragged her into a small alley away from any curious people. Like many years ago, Hermione found herself pressed against a wall by Lucius Malfoy, who quietly told her: “I cannot actually compliment you for marrying a fool. I bet he doesn’t even know how to satisfy his woman.”

Hermione turned pink, but she hadn’t lost her Gryffindor courage: “Well, a certain someone didn’t achieve that goal, either.”

“I can make up for that right here, right now.”

She almost lost herself in the blue eyes of the older man, but found just enough self-esteem to chastise herself mentally. Something else needed to be said: “I … I wanted to say sorry. What I said to you during the battle at the ministry. I … you and your family were very brave in not telling Voldemort that Harry actually was still alive … and … I now know that you value family above everything.”

Confused, she stopped her mindless rambling. Again and again she had thought about what she wanted to say if she ever got the chance to talk to Lucius Malfoy again. How she wanted to thank him for what his wife did. How it had touched her to see him care for his son during the battel of Hogwarts. How she had suffered knowing that he was loyal to Voldemort and how glad she had been when that loyalty had crumbled for whatever reason. But now, standing in front of him, captured once more by his big arms, images of their time in the bath during her fifth year flashing before her inner eye, her brain was empty.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Hermione,” Lucius interrupted her thoughts, his voice sounding surprisingly soft: “Your anger back then was understandable, even if I never actually lied to you. I can’t deny who I am and what I did. Nor can I deny that I followed the Dark Lord of my own volition. I belong to a very old wizard family und I’ll never in my life be able to think that Purebloods are different from … from those that mixed with Muggles. You may be an exception, Hermione, you’re better than any of us … but at the end of the day, you’re just that: an exception that proves the norm.”

Hermione’s gaze fell upon her feet. She knew he was right. It would be naïve to think a grown man would be able to forget and change what he had believed his whole life to be true. At the same time, though, she was glad that he was honest at least to her. The rest of the world believed him to be a reformed Death Eater who no longer believed Purebloods to be better, but to her, he had been honest.

“I love my son and I have the deepest respect for my wife. The war showed me how very much I care for both of them. Perhaps it’s good that the Dark Lord is no more, even though I wouldn’t have mourned for Potter or all the other mudbl- muggleborn witches and wizards. But just the fact that you are alive now is enough for me to accept this victory over You-know-who.”

She nodded. His words hurt, but her brain told her that it would be unrealistic to expect anything else from him. With a sad sigh, she gazed directly into his eyes. For a moment both seemed unsure, but then their lips met in a passionate kiss that tasted of goodbye for both of them.

When Hermione returned to the busy street, Lucius called after her: “I really hope you’ll be happy with your fiancé, even though I don’t think it’s possible.”


Fairy Dust



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