Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Dazzle ❯ Dazzle ( One-Shot )

She was taken by surprise the day she rounded a corner and found Lucius Malfoy on the other side. He caught her with a steady hand at her elbow and reined her in with a smile that made her knees turn gelatinous. It was when his fingers slid into the hairs at the nape of her neck that she was overcome.

His hands were cold, like the rest of him. He kissed the way he spoke: cool, polite, distant, with an edge of titillating danger that left her dizzy and warm.

The rest was blurred at the edges, sharper at some turns and foggier at others. She remembered the flawless white of his skin. She remembered that his face remained dispassionate even as his long fingers delved into her softness, a strangely triumphant gleam in his eyes as he found her. She remembered the soft kisses that were still, somehow, anything but gentle.

His sculpted lips sucked her breath from her in slowly measured increments, leaving her light-headed with the whole of her skin humming. When he slid his lips to her throat, she marveled that his mouth could be so warm when the rest of him was so icy.

That pale, pale mouth found her breasts, lavished his attentions on them with his cool kisses and perfectly placed swipes of his tongue. Her hands clung in his hair, and when he slid down her body, they came away regretfully with fine platinum tendrils wrapped about her slender wrists like shackles.

His tongue touched her inner thigh; she spread for him. Her world had burned away to one focal point, surrounded by her flushed, sweating flesh. The tip of his tongue touched it, that point where everything seemed to begin and end, and she *writhed*.

It was when she was heaving breaths out, body sheened in sweat and just at the brink that he stopped. His tongue gave one last, torturous flick, and he pulled his mouth away. She let out a low keening sound. His laughter sounded hollow in the thick air. His kisses felt as though they were meant to soothe, though all they did was enflame her further.

Everything hazed over there, right up to the point where he pushed inside her, pulsing and hot and welcomed. She flung her arms around him, held him to her as he thrust within her.

She remembered the weight of him atop her. She remembered the feel of his angular hips between her soft thighs. She remembered the heat that finally spilled out of her with a breathy cry, the heat that spilled into her with silence.

It wasn't until he left her there, sweating still, that she thought to feel guilty, that she remembered who she was and who he was, that she realized she had been manipulated, dazzled into something she knew nothing of. His cool smile as he left her had not been loving nor even possessive; it had been victorious and smug.

That was over a year ago, now, but the guilt gnawed at her, and every kiss of her husband's lips made her think of cooler, thinner ones that hit her with the intensity of a blizzard. She leaned over the cradle, petting a hand over the black fuzz of her baby's head. The child blinked huge eyes up at her.

She struggled to come up with a smile before she asked him, "Can you keep a secret, Harry?"