The walls were thin.
The walls were thin and that Mudblood chit was purposely driving him insane.
Lucius had to wonder if this was a continuation of his punishment. Maybe the Dementors and the cold, dingy walls of Azkaban weren’t enough.
After failing his task in the Department of Mysteries, Lucius had resigned himself to a lifetime of imprisonment in that wretched island. He had lost all contact with the outside world and the only noise he could hear outside his cell was the wailing of the other prisoners.
Lucius had lost all sense of time in that place and didn’t know long he was there until the Order of the Phoenix broke him out.
Yes, the Order.
Why? They wanted information. Desperate times called for desperate measures, Kingsley Shacklebolt explained to him simply. At first, Lucius wondered why him of all people. Surely, they must know he wouldn’t just hand over everything to them on a silver platter that easily?
He feared the Dark Lord’s wrath more than all of them combined, plus he had his family to look out for. Unless they can guarantee the safety of his wife and son, he wouldn’t even consider talking to them.
But of course, they had banked on his loyalty to his family. It was a weakness Lucius never bothered to rectify. Family is family. It was why the Order chose him.
Narcissa's death was a solid blow to the gut. The wave of guilt that overcame him was crippling. Lucius had thought that his imprisonment was punishment enough, but he had underestimated the Dark Lord’s sadistic nature. She was the one who received the retribution intended for him and that punishment took the life of the woman he had come to respect over the years.
The Order managed to spirit Draco away in time and for that, Lucius was utterly grateful. So much so that he had immediately volunteered every information needed to dispose the monomaniacal madman for good.
It was how he ended up hiding here in Grimmauld Place. The last time he'd been here was when Regulus graduated Hogwarts and the house still looked the same, although a little bit neglected.
Lucius stayed in one of the rooms on the uppermost floor of the house right next to Potter's Mudblood friend.
He had hardly paid any attention to that fact at first. Lucius mostly stayed out of their way and only appeared when he was needed. The girl was mostly away too with her friends on a quest to find Horcruxes. Draco sometimes accompanied them, despite Lucius’ objections. But he couldn’t do anything about it no matter how dangerous it could be. His relationship with his son was only being held by a very thin thread and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the only thing that mattered in his life right now.
Lucius would breathe a sigh of relief every time his son would enter the doors, perfectly safe and laughing along with his newfound friends.
His son being here meant that the girl would be here too. It was both a relief and a thorn in his existence.
It started one night. Precisely three months after he started living here.
Lucius had always been a light sleeper. It was a prerequisite for being a Death Eater. The Dark Lord would call upon them sometimes in the dead of the night and a minute late would result in severe punishment.
He hadn't realized how thin the walls were when he woke up to some strange noise coming from the next room. His hazy mind thought that the Mudblood chit was hurt or was having nightmares at first but when his sleep-addled brain had finally cleared, he realized—to his disgust—what the sound was.
The girl was pleasuring herself.
The sounds were driving him more insane night after night. And when he did finally manage to get some semblance of sleep, it was filled with her moans and images of her sprawled across her bed with her hands between her thighs. He would wake up with sweat covering his entire body as if he’d run a mile and a raging hard-on that just won’t back down.
It was harder in the mornings when he was forced to interact with the girl and she would act so innocently like she didn’t keep him awake all night every. Single. Night. From the way she would flick her tongue to lick a cream that strayed the side of her mouth to the way her hands would caress the spine of a book sensually before opening it. Deplorable images would spring in his mind replacing every object she touched with his cock and Lucius would abruptly excuse himself to use the loo, biting the back of his hand to prevent himself from getting heard as his other hand pump eagerly along his rigid shaft.
It was wrong. Lucius knew it was wrong. His wife wasn’t even gone for a year and he was already having wicked thoughts about a girl half his age—his son’s age! And a Mudblood no less.
He wondered if she knew just how much she affected him every time he would hear her body move through the next room. How much she was playing him like he’s made of strings. Lucius was addicted to the sounds she made. Every sigh and whimper were like a melody caressing his taut muscles.
Tonight was one of those nights.
He was lying in his bed thinking about her when he heard the familiar rustling of clothes. Lucius already felt his cock rousing, felt disgusted with himself at how he easily let his baser instinct took over. His lower abdominal muscles shook as his hand reached inside his trousers to slowly stroke his cock.
“Hmm ohh,” he heard her moan on the other side and he couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath that left his mouth.
“Shit!” he hissed before biting his bottom lip. Lucius didn’t have a wand so he had to use the traditional way of silence himself. His other hand gripped the sheets so hard his knuckles were turning white as the other one kept pumping feverishly, pretending it was her mouth sucking his cock.
Lucius had half the mind to go over there and take her instead, wanted to be the one sharing her bed, to be the one to show her what real pleasure really was, but all he could do was touch himself as he listened to her cries of pleasure.
“Gods, yes,” the girl sobbed and Lucius could feel her getting closer. He couldn’t help but thrust his hips up in time with her frantic breathing, trying to chase release.
“Fuck, yes, Hermione! Come for me,” he growled.
“I’m coming, oh fuck,” she whimpered but it was he who came first with his teeth sinking in the back of his hand to muffle his groan. Wave after wave of blinding ecstasy rocked through him and for one, crystalline moment, she didn’t exist, and nothing existed and that was it.
His fingertips twitched and spasmed around his now flaccid member and it was only a few seconds before she followed. It was like she was dying. Tortured moans ripped from her raw throat, death bed cries.
Then, it ended.
Lucius heard the rustling of clothes again as he fixed himself. He imagined her arranging her nightclothes before lazily draping the bedsheet over her prone, satiated body.
He felt his pulse slow to an acceptable rate before sleep finally overtook him. Lucius was there, dangling on the edge of consciousness and oblivion when he heard it. A soft, contented sigh and a voice on the other side.