#yetis

He had used his wand to bind her wrists to the edge of the mahogany desk, a silent, magical restriction that left her entire body at the mercy of his hands. He had been a husband who took, his focus absolute as he dismantled her reserve against the cold wood. He had silenced her begging with his palm, his weight a heavy, inescapable pressure that made the rest of the world vanish.

Even the portraits had reacted. In the library, a collection of nineteenth-century Malfoy elites had looked on with various degrees of scandalized disapproval, many of them retreating to the far corners of their frames or covering their eyes with painted silken handkerchiefs. But the gallery had been different.

Lucius had caught her there yesterday, her silk dress a soft contrast to the stone wall. They were beneath the stern, painted gaze of his great-grandfather, Septimus Malfoy II — the rugged patriarch who had attended Durmstrang and first met the Voronins in the 1870s. Unlike the delicate, pale oil paintings of the later generations, Septimus was rendered in thick strokes, wearing heavy dragon-hide. As Lucius pushed Vassa against the wall, his hands tangled in her hair and his mouth seeking the heat of her throat, Septimus had not looked away. Instead, he had leaned forward in his frame, his painted eyes sparkling with an ancestral recognition.

As Vassa let out a loud moan of surrender, the portrait had shifted. “Well done, Lucius,” Septimus had muttered, a grim smile touching his lips. “Aren't we glad someone in the family finally went back to the high country to fetch something worth having?”

The approval of the man who had first forged the pact with her family felt like a prestigious blessing. Other ancestors were less enthused; a trio of Victorian aunts in the east sitting room had spent an hour whispering about ‘sirens’ furiously behind their fans after witnessing Lucius lift Vassa onto the marble edge of a fountain because he had to have her that instant. Lucius had ignored them all. He was a man possessed, discovering that forty-five was not a twilight, but a high, burning noon.

“I’ve had you in my study, the winter garden, the upstairs landing, and against the window of the hall,” Lucius said, his breath brushing her ear. “And I still find myself waking each morning thinking of new places I want to show you.”

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The Cold Wolf Chapter 9 - fanfiction.net

The Cold Wolf Chapter 9 - A03

Summary: Lucius is a man of ruins and debts. To save what remains of his house after Narcissa dies less than a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, he calls in a specific Eastern debt owed, one rooted in the fallout of the Dyatlov Pass incident. Yetis might be involved. International cover-up. One of the biggest scandals in magical history. Messy business. Very, oh, those Russians.

Vasilisa Voronina is a Durmstrang alumna, descendant of the Baba Yaga, and half sea-Veela of the Arctic deep. She's a beautiful woman from an ancient family with high social standing and flexible morals... they also have no money to make good on their debt.

Their marriage of convenience quickly develops into something more and the post-war world rebuilds. From the leering curiosity of Horace Slughorn to the wary gaze of the Golden Trio, the new Lady Malfoy is a mystery no one can solve. Least of all Draco, who flees the fallout to navigate the Slavic wild.

Rating: M smut scenes including this chapter!