Fic: House Arrest (SS/HG/LM)
For bluestocking79:
HG/SS/LM, smut with some comedy. Both of them are trying to seduce Hermione in attempts to gain a pardon from her. She just wants to shag them, and intended to give them the pardons anyway. Not that she comes out and lets them know that...

It turned out more like comedy with some smut, sorry – something like a hard R (for inappropriate use of Lucius' big toe)
2500 words
unbeta'ed



House Arrest


Due to a long string of circumstances too long and tedious to be related in their full minutiae withing the tight confines of such a short fic, Severus and Lucius were both alive and, if on trial for their actions during the war, still short of a Dark Lord: what could possibly be more auspicious a beginning?

At first, they both considered themselves very lucky with the Wizengamot’s ruling. They had been given the choice between four years in Azkaban or forty years in solitary confinement in Malfoy Manor and, after checking the fine print and verifying that yes, the Wizengamot’s definition of Malfoy Manor did include the wine cellar, the Elves, and the orchid greenhouse, where many potions ingredients dwelled unbeknownst to the Powers That Were, swiftly opted for the forty years. (Lucius had it from reliable sources that conditioner still wasn’t allowed in Azkaban despite the multiple petitions he had started there as an inmate.)

To Lucius’ relief, Narcissa and Draco were acquitted.

“I can’t wait forty years for you,” Narcissa had said, “and neither can I stay that long in this draughty old place.”

Neither of them added that Draco still needed a parent to watch over him if recent events were anything to go by, and Draco went on pretending he hadn’t noticed his mother’s eye straying on the occasional cute, much younger, wholly unsuitable wizard. There were family matters best kept to oneself. So the divorce was shortly pronounced, considerable amounts were transferred from the family vault to a discreet bank account in Zürich, and Lucius hugged his son one last time before the international Portkey activated.

It was heart-wrenching to accept that, next time they saw each other, Draco would be a wizard with a whole new life of his own, a stranger to his elderly father. But at least they were both alive, and well-off – Lucius held on tight to that thought.

The other consolation to be drawn from this forced reclusion was that Severus got to live with him – some Ministry official had probably thought it would be less tiresome to visit the two of them at once for the monthly parole hearing. Lucius didn’t mind, of course, he’d always been fond of Severus and, in the absence of Narcissa, he was a good choice of a living companion. He didn’t talk during breakfast, directed the House-Elves to prepare suitable dishes, and could plot world domination over brandy during the long winter evenings. Not that they were plotting for themselves, they had been down that route once before and had seen for themselves how that ended – no, they were now busy discussing the new rulers of the Wizarding World, their ways, their probabilities of success in their various endeavours, and the likelihood that they’d get caught red-wanded in the middle of a sex scandal, preferably with the Minister’s new husband. Not that they would have anything to do with it, of course.

Unfortunately, the elderly Ministry-dispatched officer proved about as loquacious as a deaf-mute oyster when it came to society gossip.

“Prior incantatem!” he cried out at their outstretched wands right upon arrival, his own hand shaking with palsy, or perhaps it was righteous indignation at the idea of two ex-Death Eaters being kept outside of Azkaban.

“May I offer you something some refreshments, tea perhaps?” Lucius offered in the mellifluous tones of one who has courted the very edges of supreme evil power in his time.

The other wizard turned towards him and slowly inched his glasses back up the bridge of his nose so as to bring his interlocutor back in focus. “I do not accept bribes!”

Severus offered his own wand as a propiatory offrand. “You may rest assured that we have done nothing we’d need to bribe our way out of,” he said. “Tea is merely a perk – the Elves make the best blueberry jam you’ll ever taste…”

The Ministry minion, who had never been able to afford an Elf on his regulation salary, sniffed in disdain and promptly finished inspecting the house’s wards, thus ensuring that they had not gone out and would not be able to walk over the threshold in the foreseeable future.

“Well,” he concluded, “that is a farewell. You won’t be seeing me again.”

“What,” Lucius said, perking up, “a pardon? Already? After one single month?”

The other wizard let out a nasty chuckle. “No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I retire in two weeks’ time, and I’m given to understand you’ll be getting a young shark fresh out of Hogwarts to hold your leash. They’ll be a whole lot harder on you too, the young generation can’t stand you Death Eater scum, no they can’t…”

And he Apparated, rubbing their noses into the fact that they were not able to follow him.

“That went well,” Severus said. “He could have hexed us while he was at it. It’s not like we could possibly retaliate.”

“I do wonder what his successor will be like,” Lucius mused. “That old fart seemed to think we wouldn’t appreciate him.”

They replayed that conversation, and variations thereof, multiple times in the month that separated it from the visit of their new parole officer. Would he take it upon himself to punish them for the war? Passions still ran high, after all, and all was possible. They had all creature comforts, but were certainly lacking in the offensive arena.

So it was with faint apprehension that they awaited the visit of the Ministry envoy.

The wards chimed at 10 o’clock sharp and they hastened to the reception hall.

Severus stopped dead in his tracks and grabbed his friend’s sleeve. “Lucius, it’s…”

Hermione turned from the roaring fireplace to face them.

“May I see you wands, while you strip?”

It was at that precise moment that both wizards decided house arrest, no matter how comfortable, was highly overrated.

“You can’t make us do that,” Severus said in his best professorial tones, “you can’t take advantage. It would be against the rules.”

“My dear… mister Snape,” she answered after a split-second hesitation. She couldn’t well call him Professor or Headmaster now, could she? “I’ve been recently promoted – you probably missed the memo, it happened during your trial I believe. Anyway, I’m the one who makes the rules around here now. And as it so happens…” She took out a hefty rolled-up parchment from inside the sleeve of her robe and untied it with a flourish, “I am merely following the standard guidelines. See here? Article 365b., the officer shall then perform a strip search directly after the prior incantatem to determine the presence of spare wands and/or other artefacts whose possession is prohibited under the terms of the house arrest.”

She rolled up the parchment again and placed it back inside her sleeve with consummated ease. This wasn’t her first time at this, they both realised with a sinking heart, and they had no choice but to submit.

Four hours, thirty-eight minutes, four cups of tea, half a dozen of blueberry-jammed muffins and two rather thorough body searches later, Hermione left the two wizards standing in front of her, still stark naked.

“I have seen no evidence of Dark Magic, nor of intend to commit any,” she concluded with the kind of cheerful smile that added insult to injury. “Unless of course they count having such gorgeous bodies as a criminal offence!” She giggled at her own joke. “Well, congratulations, gentlemen, you may stay here for another month. See you then!”

And she Disapparated with a loud cracking sound.

There are occasions in a wizard’s life when all other recourses have been exhausted and there remains no venue of comfort but for the very thing said wizard had spent the greatest part of his adult life trying to avoid.

“Bring me a pint of lager!” Lucius cried out in the general direction of the Elven quarters.

“Me too!” Severus added.

“That was sexual harassment,” Lucius said as soon as he had his bottle in hand and thus recovered his higher brain functions, “that last comment of hers. We could sue.”

“No one would listen,” Severus answered with gloom. “It’s not like we have any proof.”

They were sitting down in front of the fire Hermione had conjured, warm enough and humiliated enough not to need any clothes.

“Plus,” Lucius added, “she was right in that one respect. Wasn’t she?”

An awkward moment passed as each wizard tried to assess the other’s appearance in general and penis size in particular without looking like they were peeking.

Severus smirked.

Lucius crossed his legs and then flung his lager-bearing arm over his lap for good measure.

“She was,” Severus said. “Of course there is conventional-gorgeous, but then there’s-“

He stopped in his tracks, half-impressed by Lucius’ death glare. The blond wizard had never been anything but a friend to him, but then he had also been known to eviscerate his enemies whilst they were still alive, so one was best advised to remain his friend as a general, non-prescriptive and yet highly precautionary measure.

There was another awkward silence as neither knew quite what to say in such circumstances.

“You were right,” Lucius said all of a sudden. “About her!” he hastened to add.

Severus was wrenched out of his day-dreaming session (where he and Lucius were both fighting an Hermione-lookalike of a dragon whilst still naked, but he had the longer, better, shinier sword). “What?”

“She likes our bodies,” Lucius went on, “both our bodies. There’s two of us, and only one of her… don’t you see? We only have to seduce her with our manly viles, soon she won’t get enough of us, and she’ll get us a pardon to keep us near her. It shouldn’t be too hard for her, what with the pull her hero status gives her at the Ministry…”

Severus’ brows furrowed as he contemplated the plan for what seemed like an eternity.

Then he smirked again.

Lucius uncrossed his legs.

Both men slouched back in the sofa and brought their beer bottle to their lips in perfect unison.

They had a plan.



*
* *




Hermione didn’t have a chance when she came for her second inspection visit.

She was met by the sight of two equally handsome wizards fully ready for their routine inspection, that is to say, of four equally erect wands ready for her grasp.

Like any self-respecting Ministry envoy to the home of convicted Death Eaters, she began the proceedings by seizing their wands (rule 42, paragraph 3). We shall, however, have to point out that she made a slight (though fully understandable given her female nature) error of judgement, and happened to place her hands on a specific part of her inspectees’ anatomy, on which it would have been useless to cast Prior Incantatem. Again, as a dutiful civil servant, she realised her misapprehension, and proceeded to remove her hands, thus rubbing them against the (unequal, yet similarly desirable in hardness and texture) length of the offered members.

There was a window of opportunity of roughly 0.2 milliseconds where the wizards, had they remained immobile, would have felt her withdraw her fingers from their present location, place them on the other pieces of wood within her reach, and retreat to safer shores.

Now, ordinary men would have missed it, and would have witnessed a blushing witch hasten to finish her inspection before leaving amidst a storm of confused apologies.

Not so Lucius and Severus. Not unlike their Roman namesakes, they were men of action, of iron will and of rigid erections. “Act promptly, or never at all” was Lucius’ motto; “never lose an opportunity,” Severus’.

And so it shall not come as a surprise to the dedicated reader to learn that, in the precise 0.2 milliseconds it took Hermione to realise her mistake and correct it, she was forcefully kissed in the neck, had both her hands caressed right where they were, and distinctly felt someone lick her left earlobe with the tiniest of moans that went straight to her knees, somehow rendering her unable to maintain an erect posture.

(The same, as you have well surmised, could not be said of either wizard)

To cut a potentially longer fic short - in no longer than it took me to finish this, Hermione had been brought to orgasm several times, with the aid of several different limbs, including (but by no way limited to) a conclusive demonstration by Lucius of his innate superiority in the toe-waggling department.

The three of them laid on the floor amidst a sea of cushioning charms, mute under the combined effects of burgeoning exhaustion and a deeper feeling of satiation.

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Hermione said. “I mean, I know you’re trying to ply me with sex to make me go easier on you, but why strip before my arrival? Didn’t you realise I really enjoy watching you disrobe?”

Severus and Lucius looked at each other in alarm. How did she guess the cunning plan?

“And,” she went on with a chuckle, “all that for nothing, too…”

The alarm turned to existential angst.

She let out a sigh, rolled around herself, and reached for her robes, from whence she took two rolled-up parchments.

“Now, Lucius, don’t take it the wrong way, but you did belong to the wrong side. I couldn’t get you a full pardon…” she handed Severus one of the scrolls. “This is yours – all charges are dropped, and you get a significant compensation for the material and psychological trauma caused by this obviously erroneous Wizengamot ruling. Don’t look at me like that! You get at least 50% more for the psychological part, I couldn’t afford not to mention it. And Lucius-“ she gave him the other roll- “you sentence is commuted to four years of guarded freedom, meaning, basically, that Severus vouches for your behaviour. Pending on Severus’ approval, of course, you need him to sign here, without Imperiusing him, I’m mentioning it because the parchment is charmed to notice that kind of thing. You’d be able to get out of the house, possibly even out of the country, under some conditions… I’m afraid you don’t get any compensations, though, the Ministry knows how much you’ve got left in Gringotts.”

A short, stunned silence followed her little speech.

“So, all this… seduction… was for nothing?” Severus asked, dejected.

“I wouldn’t call it nothing,” Hermione and Lucius answered together at the very same time with matching Cheshire-cat grins.

Severus’ few last functioning synapses seemed to spark at long last.

“You mean, we can do this again sometime?”

No answer was needed to that obvious a question, as, indeed, no ending is needed to this obvious a fic :D