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Ever since the end of the war, Lucius Malfoy didn't like the Ministry of Magic. And being cited to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was particularly bad.
He shook his head and crumbled the piece of paper that spelled out his destination. There is nothing to be afraid of. You and your family were pardoned. You're free. Not as rich as before, not as influential as before, not as well-regarded as before, but FREE. There is no way the DMLE is coming after you now. He frowned. And yet here you are, with an "invitation" to the Department. Somewhere in the same building, his wife Narcissa was currently following similar instructions, no doubt having the same questions and worries he had. Still, no guards escorting you. You even received a guest pass! Too bad that the handwriting on the forms was basically indecipherable - it would've been nice to know in advance who is waiting for me. "Oh well, you've been through worse," he told himself and straightened his suit, patting the pocket with the written pardon to make sure he hadn't lost it. "Showtime." He knocked at the heavy door three times.
"Come in," a female voice told him, and the door unlocked with a barely audible click.
That voice sounded vaguely familiar... He pushed open the door and scowled when he saw who was waiting for him. "You."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," the young woman greeted him as if she hadn't noticed his expression or tone. "Please come in."
He did as he was told, closing the door behind him. A quick look around told him that the office was taking sparse design to the next level. No decorations, no carpet, no comfortable reading corner... no desk... In fact, the office was completely empty except for one chair that was occupied by the woman. "Miss Granger," he sneered, "I had been under the impression that even Mudbloods like you possessed some basic sense for interior decorating."
The golden fire whip that suddenly connected the tip of her wand with his neck brutally pulled him to the stone floor before he could even scold himself for the needless attack. Oh, way to go, Lucius. Go and piss off the lady in charge before you even know how much trouble you would have been in anyway.
Finally, the pain stopped as the spell was cancelled. "It's Mrs. Weasley now, Mr. Malfoy. It would do you good to remember this - you had been at the wedding."
"Feisty; I presume you had fun during your honeymoon?" He rubbed his neck - no blood, and knowing the witch's skill, it wouldn't even leave a trace after a few minutes - and sat down on the floor to catch his breath.
"You could not imagine," Hermione Gra-... Weasley purred. "But this isn't about me."
"So it was indeed you who summoned me here?"
"Of course. I reviewed your file and-"
"I was pardoned!" Lucius cut her off, giving her a glare and daring her to challenge that fact.
"Indeed you were. You're a free man, congratulations. But I reviewed your file and came to the conclusion that you might be able to earn a bit more than that. We might even negotiate about some of the old Malfoy properties... wouldn't you like to move into one of your mansions again?"
He licked his lips. The loss of his wealth had hit him and Narcissa hard - what would she say if he came back home with the keys to one of their vacation homes? "...oh? Please, do elaborate..."
"There is little to elaborate, really." The witch crossed her legs, causing her black, ankle-length robe to shift slightly. "Would you like to know why you were denied your assets? It's because you are an asshole."
Well, that was blunt. "I wasn't aware that quality of character decide who gets control over my old properties."
"You were pardoned because of your actions - and lack of actions - during the final battle in the war and its aftermath. You showed the willingness to cooperate, but that doesn't change that you are an elitist jerk who would probably torture so-called Mudbloods and Muggles if you thought you could get away with it."
"That's quite a bit of bad faith there, Mrs. Weasley," Lucius commented without denying it.
Ronald Weasley's wife grinned, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Well, that is why you are here, Mr. Malfoy: Penance. Your chance to show me you have changed."
His eyes narrowed slightly - he hated it when he had no idea where a conversation was going. In some ways, he felt reminded of his exchanges with Lord Voldemort back in the days. "Sure, I'll sign whatever you want me to. Mudbloo-... Muggle-born wizards are great, hooray."
"Ah, ah, ah..." The girl waved her wand condescendingly. "Show, don't tell, Lucius." She hesitated. "It's okay if I call you Lucius, isn't it?"
"Sure," Lucius replied, thinking that this was part of whatever challenge she had thought up. "What do you expect me to do, then? Hug a muggle? Build an orphanage?"
"Oh, those aren't bad idea, actually! I should've brought something to write!" Hermione's innocent expression faded as quickly as it had appeared. "No, Lucius, I had something more... personal in mind." And with that, she slowly extended her right foot.
"What..." He looked at her foot, then back up at her. "...are you trying to tell..." He looked back down at the foot and realized that it wasn't clad in the normal, functional shoe workers in the Ministry seemed to prefer. Instead, his tormentor was wearing a high-heeled, thigh-high, shiny boot. "...me," he finally finished his sentence, completely dumbfounded.
"Onto your knees, Lucius," Hermione whispered, careful not to break the spell he found himself under. "Do what comes naturally."
This isn't happening. This is some sort of crazy dream. Or worse, some sort of practical joke. "I... think..." That was optimistic, really - it was hard to think when a young, attractive and confident lady was asking him to... do what? Worship her? "I think I should leave," he finally rasped, barely conquering his growing arousal.
Her eyes widened just a bit - this was clearly not the reaction she had been hoping for. Was there a sign of alarm? He found it hard to read her. But the mask of control was back almost immediately. "Is it guilt that makes you say that? That you wouldn't even consider doing anything sensual with another woman?" She slowly rose to her feet, standing impossibly tall in her boots while he was still sitting on the ground like an idiot. Her heels clicked loudly on the stone floor as she walked towards him.
This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Lucius knew that he should have other thoughts. Plans, schemes, anything to get the upper hand. But the witch in front of him had outfought and outsmarted more dangerous people than him - he was certain that she had found a way to secure herself against any sort of blackmail. Which would explain the location, for one. This isn't her office, and it's probably rigged against any sort of recording, so there won't be evidence. And her husband? Yeah, he probably knows, too. Maybe this was his idea, even. Who knows what kinkiness these two enjoy?
"Or is it fear? Fear of what Narcissa might do if she found out?" She undid a single button and her robe opened up, revealing the absolutely nothing she wore under it. "Kneel, and I promise you will happily accept a few nights on the couch... though I don't think it'll come to that, really."
Was she- Is she- Should I- It was hopeless, really. His arousal, his ever-growing need, pounced his last functioning braincells and effortlessly tore them to shreds. With his rational mind having clocked out for the day, he slipped onto his knees, knowing that she was oh-so-right and embracing his fate. He brought his face almost down to the stone floor until his eyes were mere inches away from the tip of her right boot.
"Kiss it," Hermione whispered, "and forever remember how much you enjoyed worshipping a Mudblood."
He cringed at that. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear his ancestors laughing at him. Yeah, but they are dead while you're about to trade an extremely arousing favor for the keys to one of your mansions, so forgive me for breaking with tradition - I'll take a win-win situation any day. "Yes, Ma'am," he whispered and let his lips touch the leather.
The smell and taste was intoxicating, and Lucius licked and kissed the boot without any conscious thought interrupting his pleasure. His pants were uncomfortably tight, but he didn't dare to remove his hands from her boot. Slowly, he worked his way upwards, encouraged by her quiet, happy sighs. Inch by inch, he tongue moved upward, reaching the top of the boots and bringing her skin within kissing dist-
"Don't forget the other boot," Hermione purred, obviously taking great pleasure in delaying his pleasure. "Be a good boy, and maybe I'll let you move further up..."
Lucius swallowed hard, fighting the urge to disobey her by kissing her bare thigh. Trembling, he moved all the way down again. "Yes, Ma'am," he whispered.
Several hours and a few mouthwashes later, Lucius made his way back to the entrance hall of the Ministry. He was certain that he was just imagining things, but it seemed as if everybody he met on the way was giving him knowing looks. Trying not to show signs of nervousness, he tightened his grip on the small, black box containing the documents of ownership of and keys to one of his Canadian vacation homes.
Okay, play it cool, Lucius. Nobody here knows you just cheated on your wife. And nobody will ever know. Especially not- "Narcissa!" he blurted out when he saw his wife coming out of the elevator. Yes, Lucius, play it cool just like that, you idiot, he immediately scolded himself and took a deep breath.
Narcissa made her way through the afternoon crowd until she was standing in front of him. "Oh, Lucius, you wouldn't believe the... terrible... things..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes moved down towards the box in his hands.
He looked down, too. "Oh, this. I got good news for-" Then he looked a little bit up again, focusing on the object in his wife's hands.
It was a box. A black box, just like his. About the size of two wand boxes, just like his. Bearing the official logo of the Ministry of Magic, just like his. Likely containing a set of keys and documents, just like his.
Husband and wife looked each other in the eye, then blushed furiously and looked sideways. Finally, it was Lucius who dared to speak up. "Penance?"
"...mh," Narcissa admitted.
"Young Mr. Weasley took you to task about your opinions on blood traitors?"
"Mh." Narcissa coughed quietly before making eye contact again. "Then I guess you met the wife and revised your stance on Mudbloods?"
"Nothing more than lip service, I assure you." The words were out before Lucius even realized how terrible this sounded in context.
Much to his delight, Narcissa just laughed. "Oh, Lucius..." She bit her lip before lowering her voice. "She didn't let you enjoy release, either, I presume?"
Lucius cocked an eyebrow at that. "She did not," he stated slowly, studying her features to see where she was going with this. When he saw a mischievous smile playing across her lips, he sighed playfully. "Our guest passes are still valid, and I may be able to call in a favor or two with people loyal to the family name to secure us an office for a few hours, yes."
"Excellent," Narcissa purred and kissed his Adam's apple. "And after that, we'll start planning a little trip to Venice." She shook her box, making the keys inside jingle.
"Montreal is also an option," he stammered even as his wife pulled him towards the elevator.
"Priorities, darling!"
And with that, he was pressed against the back of the elevator, smiling awkwardly at the other passengers as his wife started nibbling on his earlobe. Once I get home, I have to organize a gift basket for the young couple... who'd have known that penance could be so pleasurable?