A/N

Hi Everyone. So it's taken me a year but I've finally finished this story. Sorry it's taken me so long. As always I'm scared that people won't like this chapter - it was really hard to create something that wasn't an anti-climax - I hope I've achieved this. Those of you who have reviewed every chapter thank you so much - I love seeing your names pop up in my inbox after each chapter.

I'm due to give birth next week so I might be away for a while but I still have loads of ideas I want to work through including a one shot for my poor patient 500th reviewer (sorry Jacqme - I will write it, I promise). Hopefully I'll see you all again soon.

Trigger warning: I'm pretty sure this warning is overkill but there's some very very mild spanking in this chapter...

Five years later

The fish looked balefully up at Lucius. On one side of the worktop two of its compatriots regarded him with fishy disdain; their mangled carcasses evidence of his failure. Lucius ignored them. He didn't care how many fish he had to butcher he was bloody well going to get this right. He sliced off the head with one decisive stroke and then, with a surgeon's precision, made an incision from the centre of the fish from the head to the tail. Moving confidently, as if he hadn't spent the last three hours mired in abject failure he slid the tip of the knife beneath the bones, removing them from the delicate flesh. He let out a sigh of relief as the spine finally came free and set about chopping the fish into fillets.

As he began the laborious task of basting the fondant potato in butter he looked around the kitchen with satisfaction. The table was beautifully set, the Malfoy crystal twinkling in the light of the three large candles he had set down the centre of the scrubbed pine table and the family silver glowing gently in the same light. Two emerald green silk napkins were folded with painful elaboration into the shape of peacocks which were enchanted to fly up and settle themselves on the lap of the diner at the right moment.

Lucius had set the table no less than three times. At first, he had dressed the formal dining room. But it had been too much, too intimidatingly stuffy, not the tone he was hoping for at all. Then he had tried the breakfast room. He and Hermione had enjoyed many a companionable meal in the warm and cosy room even daring to venture down to breakfast dressed only in their bath robes. Surely this would be a better setting for the evening. But it hadn't looked right, the cosy room was too small for his grand place settings and it was morning sort of room…it just didn't have the gravitas for which he was looking.

Eventually, he had reverted to the kitchen table. The kitchen had after all been where the whole thing had started. What better place to finally end things, what better location from which to move on to the next phase of their lives. He had reset the table, re-polished the silver, and re-charmed the napkins before standing back to examine the table with an air of smug satisfaction. It was perfect.

Now the soufflés were prepped, the grapes were peeled, the asparagus trimmed and the crème Anglaise suitably whipped. Everything was perfect, he just needed Hermione.

As if in answer to his summons he felt the wards shift, almost as if they were welcoming her back home and a few minutes later he heard her voice calling his name in the hallway.

"There you are." She burst through the kitchen door in a mass of flying curls and wrapped her arms around him. "I've missed you." She pressed her lips against his and for a moment Lucius was dizzy with familiar pleasure mingled with anticipation.

"Did you miss me?" She looked up at him.

"Terribly." He stroked her wild hair away from her face. "I regretted not coming as soon as you left."

"You had your board meeting." She pressed her face against his chest. "And I wouldn't have got nearly so much done if you had been there distracting me." Her fingers wandered down the back of his robes where they traced the outline of his belt.

"And what did you get done?" Lucius smiled down at her. Trying to avoid his own urge to explore; he wanted to get things settled before he allowed himself to take any liberties with her diminutive person.

"Well," Hermione positively glowed with excitement. "They asked both Severus and me to become cabinet ministers of the Potioneers' Guild. I'm the first Muggleborn ever to be extended the honour and only the second woman. They were particularly impressed with the potion we developed for Astoria; the chairman said it was extraordinary, he'd never seen it's like."

"Of course he did." Lucius dropped a kiss on her nose. "I'm very proud of you."

He pulled away and moved to pour them both a glass of the Sancerre he had chilling. There was a bottle of Moet too, of course, but he would save that for later, hopefully, there would be call for it. Hermione accepted the glass and sipped gratefully. Looking around as she did so she finally seemed to take in her surroundings.

"Lucius, you've gone to so much trouble!" Her eyes widened as she took in the elaborately laid table and the fish cemetery.

"It was no trouble," Lucius said smoothly. He vanished the mess with a flick of his wand.

"Dinner will be ready shortly if you'd like to take a seat." He gestured grandly toward the table. Hermione gave him a slightly shy smile and put down her glass.

"I'm not hungry just yet," she said.

Lucius furrowed his brow. He had very strict plans as to how this evening would go and they were meant to consume a delicious dinner cooked by himself during which Hermione would imbibe several glasses of wine thus leaving her relaxed and receptive to his propositions. Hermione seemed not to have received the script though. Indeed she was creeping closer to him, a determined look in her eyes.

"I've really missed you, Lucius." She stressed the words and he frowned again. She had only been gone for two days, just how badly could she have missed him? Of course, he had found the separation interminable. They were so rarely apart these days and he wasn't used to going without sex. How on earth he had survived that four-year dry spell he just didn't know. Now his mind had turned to sex he realised just how delectable she looked in her Muggle suit; the skirt ended well above the knee exposing a length of shapely thigh and the jacket nipped in sharply at the waist highlighting her curves to their full advantage. He firmly quashed his libido; there would be plenty of time for that after he had this deal sewn up.

Hermione seemed oblivious to his reticence. She sashayed a little closer and Lucius wondered if she had worn those ridiculously high stilettos to the conference she had attended. He hoped not, they were most inappropriate, as were the stockings with the thin back line up the back and, come to think of it, was she actually wearing a blouse under that jacket?

"You know I was very naughty whilst I was away." She walked her fingers up the front of his robes and Lucius tried to ignore the little darts of desire that she seemed to spark as she touched him.

"You were?" he breathed.

"I was," she confirmed. "I touched myself every night, even though I promised I wouldn't."

"You did?" She definitely wasn't wearing anything under that jacket. Lucius knew exactly what sort of game she was playing and damn it if it wasn't this favourite. It was also extremely inconvenient.

"The fish," he protested, his voice growing more high pitched by the moment.

"I'm sure the fish can wait." She flicked her wand in the direction of the food and the pans ceased their sizzling under her stasis charm.

Lucius swallowed. He needed to pull himself together and fast. Admittedly the evening wasn't going quite as he had planned, but this could still work to his favour. Surely a couple of earth-shaking orgasms would only make Hermione more amenable to his proposal. Besides, it had been two days and he was getting hard just looking at her.

"Take off your jacket." How on earth had he managed to sound so commanding when inside his heart was beating nineteen to the dozen? Hermione wet her lips and began to slowly unbutton her suit jacket. Lucius realised he was holding his breath as she eased it over her shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor. There was indeed no shirt and her bra was barely there either. Her breasts were supported by the merest wisp of flimsy black lace from above which her rosy pink nipples peaked invitingly. Lucius resisted the urge to touch her. He knew what she wanted.

"The skirt too." He kept his voice cool feigning a disinterest he absolutely did not feel.

Hermione smiled again and reached behind her to fiddle with the zip of her skirt. Lucius tried to ignore the way the action lifted her breast up and forwards as if she were presenting them on a platter for his delectation. Her skirt slid to the ground and she stepped daintily out of it.

Lucius took a moment to bless Muggles and their underwear. As in so many other areas, Pureblood fashion was mired somewhere early in the 1900's. It wasn't that he didn't like a nice pair of bloomers and a well-tied corset but there was something unbearably erotic about the black suspender belt that held up Hermione's silk stockings and the tiny triangle of lace which just and no more covered her public mound.

"Finally," Hermione muttered.

"Finally what?" Lucius was discomfited; he had thought she was enjoying the slow striptease as much as he was.

"Finally, after five years you're going to seduce me in your kitchen and my underwear will actually match!" She smirked at him in an extremely self-satisfied manner and cocked her hip a little as if inviting him to admire her further.

Lucius cast his mind back over the last five years. Had he really never seen her in matching underwear before? It hardly mattered; he couldn't remember a time when he had found her anything less than thoroughly desirable.

"I know what you want, Miss Granger and I believe it's for me to do more than admire your underwear." This time he moved towards her, deliberately towering over her, watching her pupils dilate as he purposefully invaded her personal space.

"And what do I want?" She gazed boldly up at him.

"Turn around." She obeyed so quickly she swayed for a second on her heels. "Hands on the worktop." She flattened her palms on the marble.

"Now, Miss Granger." He leaned over her to speak into her ear allowing his crotch to press against her exposed backside. She gave a slight wriggle as her bare buttocks came into contact with his erection. Lucius forced himself to ignore the pleasure. "What did we agree we would not do while you were away?" He tried to make his voice severe.

"We agreed we wouldn't touch ourselves." She answered promptly, ever the swot.

"And what did you just admit to doing?"

"I touched myself, every night." There was not a hint of contriteness about her.

"Really?" Lucius palmed her naked buttock, his fingers tracing the line of her thong. "And what do you think happens to girls who touch themselves after promising that they won't?" He tried hard to sound disapproving but it was difficult to pull off when she was eagerly undulating her backside into his hand. It was lucky Lucius had no real desire for a submissive partner because Hermione Granger did not fit the bill.

"They get spanked, Sir," Hermione said eagerly arching her back so her bottom was propelled up against his hand.

"You do know you're entirely too eager for this, don't you?" Lucius couldn't keep the humour from his tone. "You might at least pretend to be frightened of me."

"I'm terribly frightened, Mr Malfoy, please don't spank me." Hermione was an even worse actress than she was a liar. With an affectionate roll of his eyes, Lucius brought his large palm down on her creamy white buttock with a resounding smack. Hermione squealed and Lucius smirked as the imprint of his hand appeared, briefly emblazoned on her sensitive flesh. He began to spank her slowly at first, varying the location and intensity of his blows, listening carefully to the timbre of her cries. She whimpered and wriggled but made no attempt to pull away from him as her flesh heated and pinked beneath his hand. It was a beautiful sight to behold, her buttocks shuddering under his blows. With a quick gesture, he vanished her tiny thong wanting to see her labia bloom as her arousal grew. Hermione made a brief sound of displeasure at the loss of her underwear which was quickly lost as Lucius rained down a volley of heavier blows on her quivering buttocks.

She was panting now, tiny beads of sweat standing out like crystals against the smooth skin of her back. The rich scent of her arousal was heavy in the air.

"Was it good?" Lucius asked.

"Was what good?" she slurred drunkenly at him, her face now resting against the worktop, her legs shaking.

"Was it good when you touched yourself?"

"Yes," she panted.

"As good as this?" He inserted two fingers into her slick channel and pressed them forwards, unerringly seeking out the spongey area that would quickly drive her to oblivion.

"No, no," she squealed. "Nothing could be as good as that."

"Good." Lucius added a third finger marvelling at how sopping wet she was just from his spanking. He began to agitate his fingers inside her, all the while rubbing his other hand against her red and glowing backside. The timbre of Hermione's moans had changed now and she was bucking her hips against his hand.

"Don't stop, please don't stop."

He reached his thumb forward to circle around her clitoris, it was standing proud and erect, nearly as hard as Lucius' own aching cock and he only had to give it a desultory flick before she catapulted over the edge into orgasm her sheath contracting around his fingers with almost painful intensity.

They remained frozen, locked together, Lucius' fingers still buried deep within her, Hermione's body weakly contracting around him. Finally, he withdrew his hand and pressed a kiss to her backside, the skin was so hot it almost burnt his lips.

"That was amazing." Hermione turned, beaming up at him her hands reaching towards his flies as she dropped to her knees.

"No." Lucius was surprised to hear himself speak. His cock was aching, his underwear uncomfortably tight and yet he couldn't allow himself to enjoy her again until he had his answer. He unconsciously patted the breast pocket of his robes. Hermione turned her huge brown eyes up at him. He could well understand her confusion. It was most unusual for him to decline oral sex.

"Dinner first." He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.

She looked quizzically at him and then shrugged good-naturedly. "Alright." Completely unselfconscious in her near naked state she picked her skirt and jacket off the floor and slowly pulled them on before she sat gingerly at the table. Lucius stifled a chuckle at the site of her wincing as her backside hit the cool wood. He would never have guessed that Hermione Granger would have a predilection for being spanked. Of course, like most things, it had to be entirely on her terms but he was more than happy to adhere to those terms. Especially if it brought him closer to his goal. He topped up her wine and removed the stasis spell from the fish.

Three courses later Hermione was definitely relaxed, but although she had eaten ravenously she had barely touched her wine. There was no way Lucius could depend on the alcohol to help his cause. He felt his anxiety ratchet up another notch as his fingers travelled from the breast pocket of his robes to the locket around his neck.

"More wine?" He proffered the bottle, but Hermione placed her fingers over the glass.

"I think I've had enough."

"Very well." Lucius poured himself another glass, he needed the Dutch courage.

It turned out telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth had not been quite as easy as he had expected. He had known within six months that if Hermione's locket truly worked there was no chance of her accepting his proposal. By the end of the first year, the hair inside had been glowing a virulent green and resembling something that Hermione called radioactive waste.

For the second year, Lucius had adopted a policy of painful honestly. He had even told Hermione when he though her hair looked bad and had advised her against several outfits. By the end of that year, she had barely been speaking to him. He wouldn't have dared propose even if the hair hadn't still been bright green.

Things had definitely improved the third year. Until Ronald Weasley and whatever Quidditch playing hussy, he was married began to procreate. Lucius had a lot of opinions regarding Weasley, his wife, and child. Under the circumstances, he didn't think honesty would have helped his cause any better than lying through his teeth had.

At the end of year four, the hair had only the faintest of green tinges. Lucius had felt truly proud. He had learned when to hold his tongue and was really finding silence to be just as good as a well-placed lie – some of the time.

This year had been the best though. He hadn't even really felt the need to lie. He wasn't nearly as angry and cynical as he had been in the past and even when he did open his mouth and let the truth spew forth Hermione didn't seem to mind. For the first time in his adult life, he felt as if he could truly be himself, could simply ask for his needs to be fulfilled rather than attempting to manipulate circumstances to his own end. It had been something of an epiphany to realise that Hermione genuinely wished to please him and if he were honest regarding his desires she would move heaven on earth in order to meet them. It was for this reason and a thousand others that Lucius now wanted to marry her more desperately than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life.

He had been through every jewel and trinket in the Malfoy vault before he had declared it all worthless tat. He and Draco had visited Tiffany's in New York and chosen Hermione a diamond solitaire which was of suitable proportion to please Lucius and suitable subtleness to please Draco (it had not been an easy shopping trip). Now all Lucius had to do was secure her answer. Surely she would not deny him this time.

He brushed his fingers over the breast pocket of his robes for the hundredth time and took a deep breath.

"Do you realise what day it is today?" He wouldn't it put it past her to forget the anniversary of his first proposal. He had come to realise over the preceding years that Hermione's views on marriage seemed unlikely to change. She smiled at him and licked the last piece of perfectly risen soufflé off of her spoon.

"What day is it?"

In answer, Lucius drew the locket out from under his robes and eagerly cradled it in the palm of his hand.

"It's been a year."

"Has it?" Hermione looked genuinely surprised. "I hadn't realised, the time's passed so quickly." She gave a small private smile as if she were internally replaying the edited highlights of their last year together. She produced her wand from her sleeve. "Do you want me to open it?"

Lucius nodded, his heart was pounding and he felt a dizzying sense of anticipation. He felt like he had as a small boy the first time he had performed magic in front of his parents; proud, excited and just a little anxious. Hermione tapped the locket with her wand and it sprung open with an audible click. She slowly drew forth a long platinum blond hair. Lucius' eyes flew to hers, he was too choked, too overwhelmed with emotion to utter the words he'd been rehearsing all day. He fumbled with his pocket, at least he could get the ring out and show it to her, surely that would be enough to convey his message.

As he glanced up at her once more he realised that something was wrong. The smile had dropped from her lips and she was staring in dismay at the hair which hung from the end of her wand. Lucius' gaze followed hers to the very tip of the hair where the last few millimetres glowed a faint but unmistakable green.

"For fucks sake." He stood up so abruptly his chair toppled backward hitting the flagstone floor with a resounding crash. He pressed his hands over his eyes, willing the scene before him to be somehow different when he next uncovered them; it wasn't to be. The treacherous hair still glowed green.

"I didn't…I haven't…" he tailed off hopelessly. It didn't matter what he thought he had or hadn't done the spell had spoken, he was dammed to another year of purgatory.

"Lucius?" Hermione's voice was gentle, but he couldn't force himself to look at her, couldn't stand to bear witness to her pity.

"What?" he snapped.

"How many fish did you fillet for dinner?"

"Three."

"And did the soufflé rise the first time or did you have to try it more than once?"

"I made them twice, you know this isn't helping."

She ignored him. "So how long have you been cooking for?"

He glanced up at the clock. "Around six hours."

To his surprise, Hermione gave a soft laugh. "So when you said that you hadn't gone to any trouble you weren't exactly telling the truth?"

Lucius didn't think he had ever come so close to crying in all of his adult life. Even the moment when he had seen the prophecy the Dark Lord wanted more than anything smashed into a thousand shards and known in that moment that his whole life was about to change for the worse he didn't think he had felt as despondent as he did now. He wanted to beat his chest and howl out his rage. He wanted to smash things, to shout and rail, to take all his disappointment out on something…anything. He scowled angrily at Hermione who was still looking up at him with a little half smile on her face. He opened his mouth to tell her what he thought of her stupid locket and her entire stupid obsession with honesty, and then he abruptly closed it again and retook his seat.

"Are you alright?" She gave him a concerned look as he poured himself another glass of wine and took a large swallow.

"I'm absolutely fine." The hair wasn't back in the locket, he could lie as much as he bloody well liked before the next year started.

"Are you sure?" she placed her small hand over his and he fought the childish urge to pull away from her with her unwelcome kindness and her ridiculous ultimatums.

"Yes, I'm sure."

She got up and came around the table to sit on his lap. He remained stiff and unyielding beneath her. He couldn't even stand to put his arms around her. He felt fragile as if he might shatter at any moment.

"What's this?" Her fingers probed the bulge in the pocket of his robes.

"It's nothing." He pushed her hand away. He wasn't going to plead and beg. She knew how important marriage was to him; there was no point in reiterating it.

"It doesn't feel like nothing." She ignored his attempts to stop her and removed the box from his pocket.

"Hermione, don't."

"Why not? It's for me isn't it?" She flipped the box open and they both stared at the gently glowing diamond solitaire.

"It's beautiful," she spoke in a hushed voice as if viewing some sort of religious artefact.

"It is, isn't it?" Lucius snapped the box closed. "Never mind, you'll see it again in a year's time."

"Wait!" Hermione's hand closed over his. "Why don't I try it on?"

Lucius sighed. She was being unimaginably cruel. "Do as you wish." He sat back and removed his hand from the box to allow her access to it. She flipped it open and carefully took out the ring. She held it up to the light admiring the way the candle flames were reflected in its many facets before she slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. It fitted perfectly. She turned to stare at Lucius her eyes wide.

"So when do you want to get married?"

He stared at her, aware that his jaw had dropped. "I beg your pardon."

"I said when do you want to get married? You've been waiting for the last five years, I can't believe you don't have everything planned down to the minutest detail."

"I did, I mean I do." He desperately tried to collect his thoughts. "But the hair…"

"It doesn't matter." She pressed her hand to his cheek, the metal band of her engagement ring cool against his hot skin. "I love you, Lucius, and I trust you. I don't need some stupid lie detector to reassure me. I don't even need you to always tell me the truth. In fact, it might be nice if you went back to lying from time to time, especially when you don't like my shoes." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I told you I needed time and now I've had it I know I want to be with you."

Lucius struggled to find his voice. "But we haven't even discussed children."

Hermione shrugged. "Do you want more?"

"I don't know," he replied with helpless honesty.

"Nor do I." She kissed him again. "We can just work things out as we go along."

"Are you sure?" He couldn't believe he was trying to talk her out of this. He slipped his arms around her waist.

"Of course I'm sure. I've been planning this day for weeks. I thought you might have changed your mind because I'd made you wait so long and I was going to have to seduce you into proposing."

"How deviant." Lucius looked down at her with pride.

"I know." She took his face in her small hands and pressed her soft lips against his. Lucius closed his eyes allowing the glorious sensation to overtake him. She was his, entirely and eternally his. For reasons absolutely beyond anything, he could understand this wonderful woman had chosen him warts and all (although of course he didn't have any actual warts, perish the thought) to be her husband.

The anxiety of the day began to seep away as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer to him and thrusting his tongue into his mouth. He reached down to stroke the silky skin of her thighs, inching the tight skirt up around her waist.

"What are you doing?" She broke the kiss, staring up at him wide-eyed.

"I'm removing your skirt."

"Oh." She smiled. "I thought you would want to discuss seating plans and argue over whether the Weasleys would be invited or not?"

He looked down his nose at her as he continued to slide her skirt out of his way. "You may have already forgotten our prior arrangement, Miss Granger but whilst you were pleasuring yourself all weekend I endured a state of tortured abstinence. I absolutely refuse to argue with you about seating plans until you have fully satisfied my needs."

"I suppose that's fair." Hermione began to squirm in his lap, her buttocks rubbing against his erection to an almost painful degree and one of her stiletto-clad feet sailing precariously close to his crotch. Finally, she had turned to straddle him and Lucius fumbled with his flies, desperate to sink into her welcoming heat.

"There is just one thing." She had stopped moving, her small fingers pausing in the act of unbuttoning his robes.

"Yes," Lucius stilled; his hand wrapped around his erect penis.

"It's just a small detail, but very important to me." She placed her hand over his, her thumb gently swiping over the painfully engorged head of his cock.

"Anything," Lucius groaned. Somewhere in the back of his head his inner Slytherin was insisting that this was not a good idea, that Hermione was not nearly as innocent as she looked, that he should never ever give in to her demands, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be inside her, he would deal with the fallout later.

"Good," Hermione spoke against his lips, angling herself forwards and rubbing the tip of his cock against her wet core, "we can iron out the details later. She slid smoothly down on top of him and Lucius almost lost consciousness from pure unadulterated pleasure.

He awoke with a start. He had no idea what time it was, but judging from the inky blackness beyond the undrawn bedroom curtains it must still be the middle of the night. A sudden feeling of panic overwhelmed him and he reached out across the bed, groping blindly for Hermione. It hadn't, it couldn't all have been a dream, could it? To his great relief his searching hands encountered smooth skin and wild hair. Giving little consideration for the witches' need for sleep he wrapped himself possessively around her warm body.

"Hmm, Lucius," her voice was groggy with sleep, "not again."

He smiled into the darkness. He had certainly made up for his two days of enforced abstinence the poor girl probably wouldn't walk for a week. Even he was a little sore. He settled her against him.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he lied freely, he hadn't really cared if he woke her or not. "Go back to sleep now."

"No, no, I'm awake."

To his dismay, she began to sit up. He really had wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep with her nestled against him, but now she was lighting the candles and conjuring a quill and a roll of parchment.

"We should discuss the wedding." She looked archly at him and nibbled on the tip of her quill. "Now, as you'll remember you promised me carte blanche over one particular detail."

"That's correct." He struggled to a sitting position, a feeling of impending doom beginning to creep over him.

"Well, it's going to be tricky." Hermione was smiling at him. An adorable dimple had appeared in her left cheek. He wanted to hide under the bed. "Very tricky." She patted his hand. "But, for at least some of the time, I'd really like Camomile to be there!"

The End