Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

**This is story takes place 5 years after the events of the**_** Deathly Hallows. **_**It has a little Austen-esque feel to it, which I thought might be perfect for a light summer read. Let me know what you think. As usual, all characters and cannon situations belong to J.K. Rowling. **

"Aw, 'Ermione, but you must come!" Fleur pleaded with her. "I cannot imagine why you 'ave refused."

Hermione glanced at Ginny and rolled her eyes.

"Is it because of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? Bill 'as assured me that it is ridiculous! Zey 'ave no objections to you at all. I promise, it will not be awkward for you."

"It's true, Hermione. They don't blame you for what happened," Ginny chimed in. "And Harry and I will be there. And I need someone to talk to besides all the silly former school-mates. For Merlin's sake, people like Lavender are going to be there!"

Fleur's cousin, Noelle, was getting married to Minister of Magic's son, and the engagement house party that the Minister was hosting was supposed to be the social event of the season.

"Fleur, it's truly kind of you to ask me," Hermione said. "But I would really rather not come, you know."

"But with classes all over, you're have the whole summer free. What's two weeks at a house party? Just tell her, Fleur," Ginny said in exasperation.

Fleur heavily sighed. "Ze most irritating zing 'appened. Ze Minister 'as invited an extra guest and now ze numbers are unbalanced. Now we are obligated to invite a guest to keep ze numbers of ladies and gentlemen even! I wish 'e told me sooner, but as it is last minute, it is too late to invite anyone else."

All was suddenly clear to Hermione. The owled invitation and now the ambush at Ginny and Harry's now all made perfect sense as the social disaster had loomed on the horizon of Fleur's world.

"You must come," Fleur pleaded again. "You could not possibly wish such a zing on me, especially when it is in your power to 'elp me."

Hermione sighed. She had been determined to resist. She didn't want to be around anything that would remind her of that time – of a happier time that was full of promise only to end so horribly. She had found a way to move on with her life, and needed no reminders. She really didn't want to be around Ron's parents only to be reminded and feel guilty. However, she had a weakness where people in trouble were concerned. And Bill and Fleur helped her so much during the lowest time in her life, during the war, when she needed help the most. How could she refuse such a simple request now?

"Fine, but instead of staying, maybe I could use a Portkey and come a few times to join the party."

Fleur vehemently shook her head. "Zat would be most inconvenient, 'Ermione. You must stay at Ashford Park like ze rest of ze guests."

Realizing that the moment for firm refusal had passed. She was doomed to attend the Minister's house party.

"Very well," she said. "I shall come."

Fleur beamed at her. "I knew you would. I wish you 'ad not forced me to use a 'ole 'our in coming 'ere. Zere is so much to be done. I can't believe zat ze Minister 'ad invited zat man!"

"What man? The Prince of Wales?" Hermione jokingly suggested.

"No! Zat would 'ave been preferable. Ze unexpected guest is Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She had not seen Malfoy since his insane sister-in-law tortured her in his house. The Malfoys kept very much to themselves, and she had only heard that he was widowed last winter. It was highly ironic that she was chosen to balance numbers with Lucius Malfoy.

Ginny waved her hand. "Not to worry. Fleur promises the party will be large enough where none of us will have much interaction with him. Not that he would bother. I heard he's become very reclusive."

"Now zat I ''ave even numbers again," Fleur said, "I must be off to 'elp Noelle."

She kissed them on both cheeks as she bid everyone goodbye and swept to the fireplace to use the Floo.

Ginny smirked. "For future reference, Hermione, it's easier to say yes to Fleur the first time she asks a question. Come on, we have lots of shopping to do. Otherwise, she will berate us for the next two weeks for not being grand enough for the Minister's soiree."

Hermione groaned and followed Ginny out the door.

Lucius Malfoy was sitting behind the large oak desk in the magnificently appointed library of the Malfoy House in London. He was immaculately dressed in his evening robes, though he had entertained no guests for dinner and wasn't planning on going out. The leather-inlaid desktop was bare except for the blotter, several quills, and a silver-topped ink bottle. There was nothing to do, since he was always meticulous about dealing with business matters during the day and this was already evening.

He might have gone out to some entertainment – he still could. There were several to choose from, even though most of his peers have left London to spend summer in Brighton or at their country estates. But since the war, he had never been one for social entertainments.

Draco and his wife, Astoria, were busy with their new son. He had a busy life now and he was genuinely happy for him, for them all. Yet the house felt empty without family. Malfoy Manor, his principal seat in Wiltshire, felt even emptier.

It was this realization that led him into uncharacteristically accepting an invitation from the Minister of Magic, Armand Magnus, to attend his house party in Ashford Park. He never attended house parties. He could not imagine a more insipid way to spend two weeks. Of course, Magnus had assured him that there would be superior company, but it might still prove to wearing on nerves after two weeks.

Lucius sat back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arms. He stared off sightlessly across the room. He missed Narcissa. She had died last December. She caught a chill that had seemed relatively harmless at first, though he had insisted on summoning his Healer to her. It had developed into a severe inflammation of lungs and all Healers could do was to make her as comfortable as possible. Her death had come as a severe shock. Lucius had been with her throughout her illness, especially at the end. Theirs had not been a passionate relationship – he doubted he was capable of passion – but they had enjoyed a particularly deep friendship since their education and interests were so similar. Her death had left a vast emptiness in his life. He had been celibate since her death, but longed for companionship. They had enjoyed a comfortable intimate relationship and he was uncertain he could adjust to another partner. At forty-eight he felt much too old for that. Besides, he didn't want another marriage; he was past all that. Besides who would ever marry him again?

But a mistress – that was an interesting possibility. Perhaps he might meet her at this house party. Even if he didn't, it would be better than spending the summer alone at Malfoy Manor.

Lucius continued to stare off into space, lost in his thoughts. Surrounded by the splendor of his mansion, he was very much alone in his grandeur.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was the first to arrive at Ashford Park by Portkey. As the Minister's wife had passed away long ago, Fleur was in charge of hostess duties and promptly gave her a quick tour of the house before ushering her into a primrose sitting room where the other female guests were to join her. For some odd reason, Fleur separated witches and wizards at her parties until she was free to welcome them all to the drawing room for tea.

Bored, Hermione wandered out onto the stairway landing that gave a perfect view of the entrance hall where Fleur and Minister Magnus were greeting the guests. She was curious to see if anyone she knew had arrived and leaned over the banister to have a better look.

She saw that two wizards had already arrived. The shorter one, she didn't recognize. He was dressed in brown robes that were much too large for him and wrinkled. His shirt points drooped without the benefit of starch and his hair stuck out in all directions. Another could not have been more the antithesis of the first if he had tried. He was tall and dressed with consummate elegance in a robe of black over a waistcoat of embroidered gray with darker gray trousers. His shoulders were broad and powerful beneath the exquisite tailoring and his starched shirt points framed his masculine jaw perfectly. His hair was the purest blonde, tied back with a black ribbon.

But it was not his impressive appearance that held Hermione rooted to the spot. It was his utter assurance of manner and bearing, as well as the arrogant tilt of his head. He was clearly a man who ruled his world with ease and exacted strict obedience. He was an aristocrat from the topmost hair on his head to the soles of his shoes. She recognized immediately who he was and he could only ever be – the incomparable Lucius Malfoy. He looked exactly as she had first seen him in Flourish and Blotts almost eleven years ago. What a sharp contrast with the last time she had seen him at his Manor! Back then, he looked broken and defeated, a shell of his former formidable self. Yet looking at him now, time hardly touched him. If Hermione didn't know any better she would have thought she was twelve again, admonishing the lofty wizard about the unreasonable fear of Voldemort's name.

She continued to watch him as he moved almost directly beneath her as Minister Magnus and Fleur turned their attention to other new arrivals. Hermione leaned slightly over the banister when his head tipped back and he looked up, instantly spotting her. She might have drawn back in embarrassment at being caught if she had not been startled so much by his eyes. They bore right through her, as though he could see her very soul. In all of her previous interactions with him, she could never quite pinpoint what color they were, and this time was no different. Pale gray? Pale blue? She was too far away to tell, but near enough to feel their effect. Had he recognized her?

For one fleeting moment, Hermione remembered the danger this man represented and felt a slight shiver of fear course through her body at the memory of him in the Department of Mysteries. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest and she felt the palms of her hands break out in cold sweat. And then she turned and scurried away as fast as her legs would carry her. Silently berating herself for loitering about on the stairway, she desperately hoped this was no harbinger of events to come. As she composed herself, Hermione felt silly for acting so dramatically. He couldn't pose danger to someone like her anymore, at least not here. He probably hadn't even recognized her. Granted, her appearance hadn't drastically changed since the war. The only notable difference was that her once bushy hair thinned out and now fell about her shoulders in loose, manageable waves. The rest remained as it always was.

Why should she be so discomposed by him, at any rate? He was not the sort of man she'd ever wish to impress and she's not the sort of person he'd notice in the normal course of events. So for the next thirteen and a half days, it shouldn't be too difficult for them to avoid each other's company.

It was her, the Granger girl, Lucius soon realized. He instantly recognized her before she ran off. Chasing away fellow guests with one glance – it was certainly not an auspicious beginning to a two-week visit. He still had hopes that this house party would be to his taste. Sebastian Roston, a scholar he met in Switzerland, had arrived just before him. He was a rather brilliant man in his fifties, who traveled extensively on the Continent and was a voracious reader. They had been acquaintances for years, and he was relieved that Magnus hadn't lied about good company. Perhaps this gathering was, after all, just the thing for him, Lucius thought as he was escorted to his room. He would enjoy two weeks of interesting company and then be ready to return to Malfoy Manor for the rest of the summer. After all, one could not become a hermit just because his wife had died and his son started a family of his own.

As soon as he settled in, Lucius was shown into a small reception room where the other wizards were gathered and settled into an easy conversation with Roston. Just then the door to the drawing room had opened and he heard two extremely annoying sounds: feminine giggles and male laughter. The witches went on their way, while a large group of swaggering and posturing wizards came inside. There was no one among them, Lucius estimated, who was above twenty-five years of age. And unless he was very much mistaken, just as large a group of their female counterparts had walked by. These were the very people who filled London ballrooms and soirees every season and the very reason why he avoided such entertainments unless circumstances absolutely forced him to attend.

"Ah," one of their number said. Lucius knew the youngster by sight as Magnus's son, Oscar. "It looks as if almost everyone else has arrived as well. A fellow doesn't really need a betrothal party in his honor, but Noelle's cousins and mother disagree, and Noelle too, I suppose. So here we all are." He laughed while his companions slapped him on the shoulders and made bawdy remarks.

Oscar, Lucius recalled when it was too late, had recently announced his betrothal to Noelle Hartcour, Fleur Weasley's cousin. This was a house party in honor of their betrothal! And since both halves of the couple were people his son's age, most of their invited guests were also very young.

Lucius was appalled.

He had been brought here under false pretense to frolic with the infantry of both sexes? For two whole weeks? Had Magnus deliberately misled him?

Of course, he had no one to blame but himself for letting a moment of vulnerability make him act so out of character. And now he was paying for that lapse in judgment. If he was lucky, he could spend the entire two weeks holed up in Magnus's vast library.

Molly Weasley was one of the first witches to arrive. She looked the same as ever and Hermione would have rushed over to hug her, but something in the other woman's demeanor stopped her and she stood awkwardly where she was.

"How are you, Mrs. Weasley?" she asked.

"Hermione," the older woman greeted her, ignoring her question. "Fleur mentioned that you were one of her guests."

"How is Charlie? Is he still in Romania? Ginny told me he recently got engaged as well."

"Your hair looks so different," Molly observed. "How pretty."

She quickly turned her attention to the other guests present. Hermione sat back down again. The initial meeting went better than she had expected, at least only her voice had been ignored. Since sending her parents off to Australia, the Weasleys had become a second family to her, more so when she had married Ron. One couldn't ask for better in-laws. But the terrible events that led to Ron's tragic death had strained their relationship and they had barely spoken to each other these past couple of years. Hermione fervently hoped that they could at least be civil to one another for the next two weeks. After all, she had done nothing wrong.

Madame Delacour and Noelle soon entered the room and the ladies swept to offer their congratulations on her betrothal. Noelle blushed and looked extremely happy. Fortunately, Hermione's troubles never affected her amicable relations with the Delacour clan, who had not spent much time in Britain during the past several years. Friends of Noelle's arrived next, amongst them were the girls Hermione knew from Hogwarts, the Patil twins and Lavender Brown. After the introductions were made, they huddled together and giggled, oblivious to everyone else. Hermione wished Ginny would hurry. She was feeling rather stranded: neither fitting in with the older set of witches and left out of Noelle's coterie of friends.

"Lucius Malfoy is one of the guests," the loudest of the group, Claire Lutte announced, her eyes as wide as saucers. The girl clearly believed that she brought fresh and startling news. She must have only recently arrived, because Fleur had regaled almost everyone in her acquaintance with this latest tidbit.

"I never saw him even once when we were in London for the season," Claire continued. "I heard that he's quite the recluse and rarely goes anywhere anymore."

"Only one Malfoy and hordes of us," Lavender said, her eyes glittering with merriment. "Of course, the married witches don't count. Neither does Noelle because she's engaged. That still leaves an uncomfortably large number of us to vie for his attentions."

"But Lucius Malfoy is much too old, Lav!" Parvati grimaced. "He's almost fifty!"

"But he's still one of the richest wizards in Britain," Claire countered, "so his age is of no consequence. Imagine! Being a mistress of Malfoy Manor!"

"I suppose _that_ would make it tolerable enough for anyone to marry a nearly decrepit old man," Padma chimed in. There was a flurry of giggles.

Madame Delacour raised her voice to be heard across the room, "You are all lovely young ladies and are bound to marry well wizeen a year or two, but you ought not set your sights on Malfoy. Zere were quite a few determined witches in London zis season, 'oo tried to ensnare 'im when 'is wife 'ad died, but it was all for naught. I 'ave it on good authority that he 'as absolutely no interest in getting remarried."

"But who would want to marry him anyway?" Noelle said from the complacent safety of her betrothed state. "He was a Death Eater and I highly doubt that his purist beliefs have suddenly disappeared. He's still so arrogant and cold. Oscar tells me that the younger wizards at his gentlemen's club always avoid him whenever possible. Personally, I think it was inappropriate for my future father-in-law to invite him here. I know that he's trying to be a great conciliator, but it is highly insensitive to the Weasleys. I would have preferred not to have my betrothal party made into some sort of political statement."

Hermione entirely agreed with her. If the Minister hadn't invited him, then she would not be sitting here now, feeling partly uncomfortable and partly bored. Young women lowered their voices again and resumed their giggling.

"I propose a wager," Lavender half whispered. "We each wager a galleon and the whole amount will go to whoever can get Malfoy to propose marriage before the fortnight is over."

"That's impossible," Claire whined. "Didn't you just hear Madame Delacour? He doesn't mean to remarry. Even if he does, it'll take longer than two weeks to change his mind."

"And no wager is interesting if there is no chance of it being won by anyone," Padma added.

"What shall we wager on, then?" Lavender asked.

"How about, who can keep his undivided attention for one whole hour?" Noelle suggested. "Believe me, from what I heard that will be difficult enough, and the winner will have earned her prize. An hour in his company is akin to an hour sitting on North Pole, I would imagine."

There was another round of giggles.

Lavender ignored the warning and looked with sparkling eyes at every member of the group, except Hermione. "So it is an hour alone with him. The winner will be the first to accomplish that feat. Who's in?"

All of the witches except Noelle and Fleur eagerly took up the challenge to the accompaniment of more squealing and giggling. Hermione smiled at them. Had she ever been this silly? She hoped not.

"And you, Hermione?" Noelle asked. It had been agreed that Noelle would hold bank, one galleon from each of the participants, until the winner could claim the lot, or back to each individual at the end of the party if no one could claim the prize.

"Noelle!" Fleur admonished her cousin and whispered something in her ear.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Hermione smiled. "That's alright, Noelle. I doubt my company is welcome to Mr. Malfoy and I've had enough of his to last me a lifetime."

Claire narrowed her eyes. "You are afraid of losing the wager, I daresay."

"I think I'd be more afraid of winning it. What on earth would I do with him for an hour?"

"I could offer an idea or two," Lavender salaciously suggested and the group burst into another fit of giggles.

"Enough of this," Noelle said. "I shall put in a galleon for Hermione. I can't allow you to exclude yourself only on the grounds that you don't wish to win."

"Then you will lose your money, Noelle," Hermione assured her, joining in the laughter of the other girls. She wondered how Lucius Malfoy would react if he knew what was transpiring in this room.

Noelle shrugged. "I think no one will win, so my money is sure to return to me. Technically, I could enter the competition myself since all that is required is a lengthy conversation, but I have no intention of being turned into an icicle and I don't want Oscar to get jealous."

Just then Fleur announced that it was time to assemble in the drawing room and the witches slowly filed out the door. Fleur gave Hermione a sympathetic look.

"'Ow ridiculous we must seem to you," she said. "Will you really participate in zis wager or shall we keep our distance and admire ze great man from afar?"

"I shall definitely keep my distance, but not to admire him. I fail to see any greatness in him and I won't be wasting my time on a bigoted, arrogant wizard who sees me only as a filthy Mudblood."

Fleur sighed. "I too wish 'e wasn't invited. Zen zere would be no need for zis silliness. 'E'd better not provoke Mr. Weasley, or anyone else for zat matter. I don't want to zings to get to ze point where Dementors would be necessary."

"Let's hope not. I hear that Malfoy's changed quite a bit since the war, but you never know."

Hermione was absolutely furious with herself for being drawn into this nonsense when all she had to do was refuse Fleur's invitation in the first place. And Ginny cajoled her into attending and keeping her company, and where was she? However, Hermione had no one to blame but herself. If she was lucky, perhaps she could barricade herself in the Minister's library for the rest of this ordeal.

Upon walking into the drawing room, Hermione was determined to find a seat in the most remote corner of the room where she hoped to go unnoticed and be out of everyone's way. Fortunately, she settled into her seat before Lucius Malfoy came into the room. She thought she would dread to see him, but why? He was not the one torturing her all those years ago, and what could he have done to stop his insane sister-in-law? She seemed to carry much more clout with Voldemort than anyone in that family. The past was in the past. Life post-war hadn't been kind to him either and she ought to show more empathy considering how they both experienced similar losses, Hermione silently reprimanded herself.

Then she saw him. He strode into the room with that dominating elegance he always possessed. As she watched him make his round of introductions with the Minister, she was saddened to see that he walked around with the same supercilious air that he had before the war. His sneer plainly said that this gathering was beneath his pureblood dignity and never bothered to look even marginally approachable. When introductions were complete, he stood with the Minister and the haphazardly dressed man she saw earlier from the landing. Conversing with them, he looked perfectly affable and very interested in the conversation. Then all of her complacency fled as their eyes met from across the room.

Her first instinct was to look away, but her body was unwilling to obey her, and Hermione only broke her gaze with him when a tray of cupcakes was offered, blocking Malfoy from her view. As she carefully took the first bite, she didn't see the man in question leave his group and make his way toward her.

**A/N: Oh, to be Hermione right now!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I want to thank you all for your lovely messages and reviews; they are greatly appreciated. I can't personally respond to anonymous reviews, so thank you as well for taking the time to comment. Hopefully, this chapter will answer some of the questions you posed. As usual all Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling. **

**Now back to the party…**

* * *

"Miss Granger," he said about a foot away from her, his tone as cultured and articulate as ever.

At the sound of his voice alarmingly above her, Hermione gasped but, forgetting that her mouth was full with dessert, she promptly started coughing as cake crumbs blocked her airway. Her eyes watered and she tried to catch her breath while simultaneously ignoring the fluttering in her stomach at his presence. He held out a handkerchief to her and she gratefully took it and wiped off the crumbs on her lap as her breathing returned to normal.

"Mr. Malfoy," she managed, her voice hoarse from the coughing fit. She pointed her wand at his handkerchief and the cleaning charm restored it back to its original pristine state. "Thank you."

"May I join you?" He raised his dark blonde eyebrow in inquiry.

Hermione could only agree. "Y-yes, of course."

He gracefully lowered himself to a seat next to hers. She licked her lips, not sure what to say.

"Did I frighten you?"

Turning to look at him, she could plainly see that his eyes were the most unique shade of silver-gray. So luminous…so extraordinary. The way they had penetrated into her, Hermione had to briefly wonder if he was a skilled Legilimens. She never heard of him being one, but his gaze was so deep and thorough, she felt as though he could delve into the deepest recesses of her mind. It was quite a disturbing thought, and confirmed her initial impression when she saw him from the stairwell that he was still a dangerous man.

"What?"

"You ran when you saw me. Do I frighten you that much?" Something strange flickered in his eyes as he repeated his question.

She began twisting the handkerchief in her lap, unsure of how to answer him. "A little, I suppose. It's just that I didn't expect…"

"I take it you didn't know I would be here."

"Actually, I knew. You're the reason I'm here, Mr. Malfoy," she said with a smile.

One of his eyebrows arched up, "Oh? How so?"

"Fleur has a thing about hosting events with even number of participants, so when the wizards outnumbered the witches, she asked me to come to balance the numbers," she explained.

"I must admit I was surprised to receive an invitation."

"Why? I thought that since you and the Minister are on good terms that an invitation to his son's engagement party wouldn't be out of the question."

He winced. "Ah, but I wasn't told about this particular aspect."

"So you didn't know?"

"I assumed it was a gathering of a different nature since Roston was here—"

Hermione interrupted him upon hearing the name of the famous scholar, "Roston? Sebastian Roston? He is here?"

"You know him?" he asked, his interest piqued.

She shook her head. "Not personally, no. But I've read many of his works. _Petersburg: A History_ is one of my favorites of his."

A hint of a smile played on his thin lips as a light sparked in his eyes. "I must introduce you then." He pointed at the man Hermione saw arrive earlier.

She softly laughed. "I'd love that. I saw him arrive, but didn't recognize him. I should probably warn you that some witches here are involved in a contest that involves you."

His dark blonde eyebrow rose up again. "Involves me how?"

Hermione sighed. "Just to see which one of them can hold your attention for an hour."

He frowned. "I shall be on my guard."

As if on cue, Fleur appeared in front of them. "Mr. Malfoy, may I borrow you for a moment? Claire Lutte 'as a question she wishes to ask you, but she eez too shy to approach you 'erself."

She led him away in the direction of Claire, who darted a look of pure venom at Hermione before turning away to bat her eyelashes at Malfoy. Hermione fought the urge to laugh out loud. Did that girl seriously believe that Hermione was scheming to win her wager? But if Claire did, she apparently wasn't the only one. Lavender sauntered over to her.

"Nice try, Hermione," she said frostily. "Bat your eyelashes at him all you want, but you'll need a better plan than that if you really want to win."

Hermione rolled her eyes in irritation. "Oh, honestly, Lavender! I'm not remotely interested in participating in some juvenile wager."

"That's exactly what I mean. You always like to act like you're so much better than everybody, but we both know how conniving you really are."

"What?"

"Come off it. You used the exact same tactics to get Viktor Krum to ask you to the Yule Ball back in our Fourth Year. You always pretend not to be interested in someone, but then resort to all sorts of underhanded tricks to get their attention. It was the same way with Ron too! It's rather pathetic that you need constant validation in such form. Juvenile or not, you want to win as much as the rest of us."

Without letting Hermione have her say, Lavender walked back to rejoin Claire's group. She was just about to finish her cupcake when she saw that Harry and Ginny had arrived. Jumping gladly to her feet, she warmly hugged them in turn.

"What took you so long?" she demanded as she glared at Ginny. "I had to endure Lavender and Noelle's friends for almost an hour."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a strange look and Ginny briskly replied, "I wasn't feeling well. What were you talking to Lavender about?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "She was acting like a daft cow about something."

She proceeded to explain the terms of the wager and emphatically derided Noelle's friends for participating in it.

Ginny snorted. "You see now? This is why I need someone who's not obsessed with snagging a wizard at every house party. If you weren't here, I'd only have Harry for company."

"Thanks, Gin," Harry said with an affectionate smile.

"Oh, you know what I mean with Fleur constantly separating everyone by sex like it's the nineteenth century. Odd about Malfoy though, I thought they'd be all after Oscar's friends."

"According to Claire, since Malfoy is 'one of the richest men in Britain', the race to become the future Mrs. Malfoy is on."

It was Ginny's turn to roll her eyes. "I wouldn't marry a Death Eater for all the galleons in the world."

Just then another familiar figure appeared at her side.

"Viktor!" Hermione exclaimed, giving him a quick hug. "It's been forever!"

"Christmas, actually, but you're close," he corrected, grinning at her. "You look very nice."

"Thank you."

"I didn't know you were going to be here."

"Oh, well, I wasn't originally invited. But then Fleur found out that another guest is coming and she needed me to come so that the numbers would be even again," Hermione explained, grimacing. "And you know what Fleur's like when she has her mind set on something. I couldn't really refuse."

"I'm glad you didn't. It's more fun with you here."

Hermione smiled at her friends and, for the first time all day, relaxed.

Between tea and dinner, most of the guests retired to rest quietly in their rooms, but Lucius took the opportunity to slip into the library. The whole time in the drawing room, he'd been bored stiff by the prattling of those simpering girls. Although he was used to such attention from witches, especially in his bachelor days, this idiotic wager of theirs was not going to give him any peace, and there are still thirteen days left.

He wandered around the spacious, sunlit room that, much like the rest of the house was done in the neoclassical style with cream furniture and walls. His steps resounded around it on the parquet floor as he walked around, examining the book titles behind the glass doors of the bookcases. However, soon he discovered he wasn't there alone. The French doors that led to a wide courtyard were opened and rustle of pages was heard. He walked toward the sound and saw the Granger girl reclining on one of the benches with a thick tome on her lap. She gasped when she noticed him standing the doorway, her eyes catching the silver snakehead atop his walking stick.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger. It seems to be a habit with me today," he apologized, turning to leave.

She shook her head. "No apology necessary. I just thought I'd be the only one here today."

"I think we had the same idea."

Hermione nodded with a smile. "Escaping from your contestants?"

Lucius' expression darkened. "You can say that."

She gestured to the benches around her. "You can join me, if you like. It's much too nice out to be inside."

He looked around the courtyard and his next words surprised even himself, "Would you like to take a walk about the park with me?"

Hermione was gobsmacked at his invitation. She was even more astounded by her response when she found herself agreeing to it. They walked out of the courtyard onto the expansive green lawn and took the paved path that she assumed led toward the lake that Fleur mentioned when she gave her a brief tour of the house.

Lucius noticed that she still had the book she was reading in her hand and gestured to it. "What were you reading?"

"Oh, _War and Peace_. It's a 19th century novel by a Muggle author," she explained.

"I've heard of it, though never read it myself. Seems a bit depressing, no?"

A spark lit up her brown eyes as she shook her head at him. "Not at all. This book helped me a lot after the war…It's about searching for meaning of life and finding it in most unlikely places. It's also about political leadership, love, society, war, and loss. It seems depressing, but it's really not. It's actually very hopeful and it helped me when I was going through a lot of anxiety."

He abruptly stopped. His eyes bore into hers and she could now see that his appearance wasn't as unchanged by war as she had originally surmised. Upon closer inspection, she could see the lines around his eyes and mouth that subdued the austere arrogance that she had come to associate with him.

"Was it after the war?" he softly asked.

"Yes, mostly. I used to have nightmares and had trouble sleeping. My nerves were also a bit messed up, I think. But it helped put some things in perspective after of Ron's death as well."

They resumed their walk along the pathway.

"I heard about that, but don't know the details."

She glanced at him, unsure if it was an invitation to share. "It was two years ago."

"An accident, I presume?"

"Um…no. He died in a duel."

His eyebrows rose up again. "Really? Why?"

Hermione sucked in a deep breath and looked away from him. "I'd rather not talk about it now."

Lucius noted a change in her demeanor and didn't press the subject. The light in her eyes faded and she looked as though she was fighting back tears. This subject was clearly painful for her. He didn't know why but he felt a sudden impulse to make her smile again, to see that spark light up her eyes.

"So, tell me, how precisely did this book help you so much?" he asked after a few minutes' silence.

She smiled at him as she began to explain the plot and the various characters and their motivations, finally arriving upon her favorite scene.

"There's this oak tree that Prince Andrei sees when he first arrives at Otradnoe. He's still feels guilty about his wife's death and he's also very disillusioned with his previously held convictions, so one can say he's a bit depressed. So he sees this old oak that looks completely dead, which mirrors his own emotional state. But then he overhears Natasha sing and feels something change in him. The next time he sees the oak it is in full bloom and Prince Andrei feels just as rejuvenated, so much so that he decides to make some profound changes in his life." A dreamy look came over her eyes as she described this scene.

Lucius carefully and silently listened to her, fascinated by the enthusiasm she showed for this work. When she paused he spoke again, "So meeting Natasha renews something in him?"

Hermione exuberantly nodded, swaying the waves in her hair. "Exactly. He realizes that he must go on living. It's a motif that Tolstoy weaves in several times throughout the novel. Toward the end, Pierre says this 'where there is life, there is happiness. There is much, much before us.' Together, it just means that suffering is a part of life but the living must get on with it – that going through loss and horror doesn't mean we must be constantly depressed about it. We must go on. Like Pierre says to Andrei on the ferry, 'we must live, we must love, and we must believe.' These words just had this soothing effect on me…it's hard to explain, it has to be felt."

_We must live…we must love…we must believe…_

The words replayed themselves over and over in his mind as they got closer to the lake. They paused to survey the view of the calm, crystal blue waters. A gazebo was visible in the distance on the other side of the lake. They continued to look on in silence, appreciating the natural tranquility around them.

Almost at once, they turned to look at each other. Words were lost. Hermione could not help but marvel at the irony that she was actually enjoying spending with him. There was a certain understanding in his eyes that made her oddly comfortable talking to him. If five years ago someone had told her this she would have thought they'd gone mad.

She looked at her watch. "We'd better get back or we'll be late for dinner."

He extended her his arm and Hermione took it, noticing how steady and strong it felt underneath his clothes. They walked back to the house at a brisk pace without saying much.

"Well," she said when they stepped back inside the library again, breaking the lengthy silence in which they had completed their walk, "I'll see you at dinner. Would you mind putting this back on a shelf for me?"

He nodded and she handed him the book as she rushed out the door to her room.

Lucius stared after her and stared at the book. Perhaps there was something worthwhile in reading it if it had the power to produce such an effect on her.

During dinner a familiar restless came over Hermione. She found herself disengaging from the conversation around her as Harry and Viktor began discussing the latest transfer news in Quidditch. She tuned them out, wishing Ginny would quickly recover from the headache that prevented her appearance in the dining salon, began to lazily survey her fellow guests. Noelle and Oscar were regaling their friends with what she assumed to be a really funny story. Laughter and giggling constantly sounded from their end of the table. At the other end, the Minister and Sebastian Roston were in the middle of a heated debate. She continued to watch them, wandering what they were so intently discussing when her eyes stopped abruptly on Lucius Malfoy, who was sitting next to them.

He was staring directly at her.

Hermione froze under his arresting gaze. He was frowning in concentration, as if trying to read her mind. She knew she should look away, but her body disobeyed her and she continued to stare back. Her heart raced in her chest as she began to feel uncomfortably warm. A familiar feeling enveloped her body but the one she hadn't felt in such a long time. It was…

Just then a tap on her arm interrupted her thoughts and she turned away as Harry and Viktor began to pepper her with questions about her plans for the rest of the summer. By the time she was able to sneak a glance back at Malfoy, he was deep in conversation with the Minister. Excusing herself with from the table, Hermione hurried to her room. Once there, she opened her book and attempted to lose herself in Roston's stunning description of the erstwhile Russian capital. Soon, the lavish details of 300-year history of power, triumph, suffering, and heroism – all the natural and human forces that helped shape that magnificent city – distracted Hermione from the unexpected eroticism she had experienced during dinner from staring at those gleaming gray eyes.

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**I think it's going to take more than a book ****to get this wizard out of her head. Share your thoughts, if you have a moment. **

**More to come very soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the late update, sickness had me out of commission for a bit, but I now that I'm better I'll be able to post updates at my usual speed. Anyway, I want to thank everyone for all of your reviews! I just love reading your impressions. Once again, I don't own any of the canon characters or situations.**

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After dinner Lucius had finally escaped to the library. This contest was going to be the death of him. The young witches had fawned over him constantly after dinner and used every ruse imaginable to draw him away from Roston and Magnus. He was beyond annoyed. He knew it was foolish to allow a touch of loneliness to rope him into accepting this invitation, and now he had to suffer the consequences. Looking down at the page in front of him, he continued reading, finding himself intrigued by the 19th century Muggle drama, especially by a certain character that reminded him so very much of the Granger girl.

She possessed this pure vitality that shone through her eyes. Lucius found himself drawn to that vitality – to her. She had experienced so much hardship and horror at a very young age, but it didn't deprive her of life…of hope. She certainly wasn't locking herself away like him. He thought about the conversation they had during their walk. Of course, it was obvious her marriage wasn't a happy one. Someone like her was too incompatible with Weasley, but war tends to bring together the most unlikely couples. Still something peculiar happened in this case. He noticed the older Weasleys hardly spoke to her. It seemed likely that they blamed her for whatever brought about Weasley's duel. But why? That sop was bound to let his hot-headed nature get the best of him.

The most unnerving aspect about the girl was the fact that during dinner, while looking at her, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time – a stirring of sexual desire. He was hoping to talk to her after, but she was gone before the meal was over. His stare must have made her uncomfortable, Lucius assumed. Still, since that night he found himself wondering what it would be like to bed her. He was not in the habit of looking at witches with lascivious intent, but after that unexpected reaction to her, he did wonder. He sighed and shook his head, attempting to force the scandalous thoughts from his mind and went back to the book. Within minutes, he was absorbed into Tolstoy's world once more.

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Hermione was rather enjoying the next two days. During the day, she spent time mainly in company of Harry, Ginny, and Viktor. During the evenings, she often found herself chatting with Roston and Lucius, but whenever Lucius was around they were constantly interrupted. As amused as Hermione was at the witches' transparent attempts to win the wager, the interruptions were starting to grate on her nerves. Yesterday, during a picnic in the gardens, Lavender nearly toppled her into the fountain in her attempt to secure a vacant spot near the blond wizard. After that incident, Hermione thought it best to avoid being around him while the battle for his attention raged on.

Fortunately, tonight the two of them managed to separately slip away into the library where Roston found them and proposed to teach them a Muggle Russian card game Durak, the Fool, as it was most optimal with three players. He explained the simple rules of the game: the attacking and defensive turns, the determination of trump cards and their role, and the terms for winning and losing. The concept was fairly simple: to avoid being the last player in the game with cards. The last player with cards is, obviously, The Fool of the game. As they began to play more and more hands, both Hermione and Lucius found themselves tremendously absorbed by it. Since Lucius was sitting on her right, he was constantly in the attacking position, and she couldn't help but notice the slightest nuances in his demeanor: the frown of concentration as he contemplated his moves, the gleam of triumph in his eyes every time he held a good hand, and the slight smile that played on his lips as he teased her about her actions in the game.

It wasn't long before Lucius was on a winning streak, and Hermione was on a losing one. His first turn in the next game was to her because as Roston explained, one must teach The Fool. Hermione was relieved that this time she possessed at least two trumps in the beginning, which on this particular turn were the spades, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that she wouldn't have to use them since his first card was easily beaten.

"An ace, Miss Granger? Do you really want to start collecting so soon in the game?" Lucius teased her as he tossed an ace of hearts on the table for her to beat. Roston followed the suit and added an ace of clubs.

Hermione smirked at him. "Better sooner than later, Mr. Malfoy. I think I'll take these. I may yet use them against you." She filed the cards into her hands, losing her turn.

"That is precisely what you said last time and ended up losing with a handful of knaves." He winked at her as he turned his attention to beating Roston's attacking card. "Nines and sixes, Miss Granger, surely you have something to throw in?"

She threw in her six of diamonds and glanced at Roston's six of clubs underneath the nine. A blush crept over her cheeks as these numbers suggested a sexual position Hermione had yet to try. Although she had no complaints in the bedroom during her years of marriage to Ron, there was always a niggling disappointment; she sensibly consoled herself with the fact that reality never could match up to fantasies and dreams. Still, she was curious what it would be like to try some things she had read about. With the right lover, perhaps it would come close to fantasies. At least, a little.

"Daydreaming, Miss Granger?" Roston's voice shook her out of her thoughts. "I'm sure you have a ten stashed in there somewhere."

Hermione glanced down and saw that Lucius had beaten her six with a ten and she licked her lips before throwing down a ten of spades. Lucius raised an eyebrow at her choice of discarding a trump card. The largest trump card in his possession couldn't beat it and for the first time in the game he was forced to gather a pile of cards into his hands.

"Collecting so soon, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione playfully used his earlier retort against him.

He leaned to whisper into her ear, "Oh, I think it makes it more challenging, don't you think? I can't enjoy a victory if it comes too easily."

Roston shook his finger at him. "Nuh-uh, no conspiring against me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Lucius said in mock offense.

Hermione softly laughed. Her laughter was short-lived when Lucius' next attack left her without any trumps and soon she had collected a considerable pile of her own while Roston finished with all of his cards and got out of the game, leaving Hermione and Lucius once again playing against each other. For the first time that night, Hermione successfully beaten his cards in his last attack, essentially ending the game in a draw as they both finished without spare cards.

"And on this note, I think I'll retire to bed," Roston declared, bidding them his good nights and left the room.

A palpable silence settled around them as the door firmly closed behind Roston. Hermione didn't want to go leave Malfoy's company just yet. She was so pleased at having an evening free of interruptions that she didn't want it to end. She challenged him to another hand and he readily agreed and dealt the cards. The light-hearted teasing that peppered their previous games when Mr. Roston was around was conspicuously absent this time. The game was largely spent in silence, broken occasionally with some remarks about the cards in their hand. Halfway through the game, Hermione received quite a few trumps and shifted happily in her seat. As she did so, her foot lightly touched his leg under the table.

She drew in a sharp breath and tensed, not daring to look up from her cards. He didn't move from this position as she had expected. Through the small point of contact and through the layers of clothing, Hermione could feel the strength of his leg muscle and the warmth emanating from him. She felt the same rush of desire that she had experienced at dinner two nights ago. Embarrassment came over her as she finally had to admit to herself the undeniable truth that she was attracted to Lucius Malfoy!

Looking up into his luminous eyes, Hermione almost gasped when she saw the same lust reflected in them. She blushed and quickly looked away, concentrating on the game. Yet something had changed. Though they barely said a word to each other, the accidental touches continued. He'd reach for the deck of cards at the same time as she would and shift the leg that grazed hers to increase the point of contact between them. Words seemed useless as their bodies found a more powerful method of communicating. Each touch triggered mild waves of pleasure to course throughout her body, and Hermione was amazed at how aroused she was becoming from such innocent contact. She found herself torn between wanting more and wanting to flee to her room. Despite the distraction and the turmoil of confusion brewing within her, Hermione ended up winning her first hand of the night.

"You didn't mention a prize after issuing your challenge, Miss Granger. What shall it be?" He seemed to be leaning closer to her, his eyes locking into hers.

"Oh," she said, smiling. "A prize is not necessary. The triumph of winning is enough for me."

He didn't say anything. Their faces were now mere inches away from each other. She sensed her cheeks grow warmer and hoped her blush wasn't as noticeable as it felt. He reached for one of her hands and raised it up to his lips.

"I will simply concede defeat, then."

His heart pounded in his chest as his lips touched the smooth skin of her hand. Hermione's hand trembled at the contact. Every fiber of her being seemed to focus on the feel of his lips touching her skin. He held her hand far longer than necessary, unwilling to let go. Her lips parted and her fingers slightly squeezed the hand that held hers. He squeezed it back. His thumb indolently caressed her fingers, gently massaging them. The warmth of her skin seemed to melt away the ice that had always held his emotions in check and he felt his veins flood with blazing fire. The arousal he experienced two days prior in her presence was nothing compared to the feeling her touch was igniting in him.

He must be going mad, he silently chastised himself. Here was a woman who showed him nothing but kindness and respect, who refused to use him for sport and entertainment by not participating in that puerile wager, and he was repaying her compassion by having salacious thoughts about her again! Feeling thoroughly disgusted with himself, Lucius let go of her hand and Hermione quickly came to her senses.

"It's getting late, Mr. Malfoy. I'd better get to bed. Good night," she briskly said, avoiding eye contact. She hurriedly got up from her seat and walked toward the door.

"Good night, Miss Granger," he politely replied and watched her as she closed the door behind her. Looking down at his tented trousers, he knew it was certainly not going to be a good night.

Disappointment engulfed Hermione as she walked back to her room. What had she really expected to happen? That he'd swoop her into his arms and kiss her like some sort of Byronic hero? She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Reason told her that such scenarios between them were impossible; the look in his eyes before he pulled away from her said it all. The war may have changed him in many ways, but some things were too fundamentally ingrained, too deeply etched into one's psyche, to ever be eradicated or altered. He is who he always was and there are some things he will never do. She raised up the sleeve of her dress and looked down at the faint marks on her arm spelling out the word 'Mudblood'.

Yes, kissing Mudbloods like her was something he'd never bring himself to do even if he was attracted to her a little, she continued to reason out. It was useless to waste time feeling disappointed over impossible fantasies.

* * *

The next day, Noelle and Oscar insisted on an excursion to explore the Ancient Roman ruins in the nearby wizarding village. The guests were all supplied with brooms to fly there and Hermione couldn't be less thrilled about the prospect of flying. It was natural for Harry, and certainly natural for professional Quidditch players like Ginny and Viktor, but she felt utterly out of place on a broom. Claire overheard her expressing her concerns to them, even though Hermione kept her voice deliberately low, not wanting to spoil the occasion by opting out.

"Who would have thought that the brightest witch of our time is uncomfortable astride a broom?" Claire derisively called out. "I guess it just shows that some Muggle habits remain ingrained no matter how much magical ability one possesses. I may not have had the perfect scores on my exams, but at least I can sit on a broom without looking as if I just ate a sock." Her gaggle of friends cackled at her joke but Hermione resolved to ignore her.

As they flew the short distance to the village, the group of competing witches once more surrounded Lucius. Even though she felt a twinge of jealousy, Hermione happily rode on with her group, grateful for their company and encouragement as she maneuvered the broom. The morning and late afternoon was spent wandering around the ruins, admiring the remnants of a bygone empire. It was relaxing to spend the time outside, enjoying the sunshine and having fun with her closest friends. Since she began working at Hogwarts two years ago as Professor of Arithmancy, she didn't see them as often as she had in London and missed having those rare moments when they could spend time with each other doing everything and nothing. When they flew back to Ashford for tea, Hermione found herself next to Noelle's group since Ginny, Harry, and Viktor decided to race back to the house. Most of the witches were plotting their next move in regards to Lucius. Her grip on her broom tightened as they spoke around her.

"Ladies!" Fleur called out. "I believe you're wasting your time! Mr. Roston waz talking to Mr. Magnus and I believe 'Ermione iz ze winner!"

An excited chatter broke out around them, as Hermione maintained her focus on the broom.

Fleur proceeded to tell them of how she overheard Mr. Roston mention yesterday's card game in the library.

"But it doesn't count!" Claire pouted. "If they were together with Mr. Roston, it doesn't count! It only counts if they spent an hour alone, without anyone else!"

Fleur nodded. "So zey 'ad. Mr. Roston said 'e left but 'e couldn't sleep. When 'e came back down to ze library, 'e said 'e 'eard zem still playing ze game."

"But Hermione doesn't count. She wasn't participating," Lavender whined, shooting a glare in Hermione's direction.

"Ah, but I wagered on her," Noelle's voice rang out as she happily zoomed around them. "So, in effect, I was participating since the witch I wagered on won, whether she was actively playing or not. I expect you to be good sports and pay up when we get back."

"That's a relief," Padma said. "I'm glad someone won. Now we can relax for the rest of the stay. This party was supposed to be about Oscar and Noelle, not Lucius Malfoy."

Claire sneered. "Well, I wouldn't be caught dead all alone in the company of a Death Eater. That would be a good way to lose a reputation."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Former Death Eater, Claire. And it's strange that you're having a moral awakening now, considering the terms of winning the wager."

The younger woman huffed and zoomed off on her broom without a further response. The rest of the ride was relatively uneventful for Hermione. As she neared the ground her broom suddenly jerked around. No matter what she did, nothing seemed guide it properly. It was eerily reminiscent of Harry's incident during his first Quidditch match. She heard herself scream as the jerk of the broom threw her off while she was still some feet away from a comfortable landing distance. Hermione whipped out her wand and managed to safely land but the ground was uneven and she felt her ankle painfully twist as she lost her balance and fell to the ground, yelping in pain.

Lucius quickly appeared at her side, helping her up to her feet.

"Are you alright? What happened?" his voice was etched with concern.

Hermione gave him a weak smile as she slowly tested her ankle. "Oh, I don't know. Like it's been pointed out many times today, I'm not the most graceful witch on a broom." She was certain someone put a spell on it, but didn't want to start a round of accusations when she had no proof.

It was immediately apparent to her that there was no way she could put any weight on her ankle. A sharp pain seared through her every time she tried. To her great surprise, Lucius stooped down and swung her up into his arms.

"Mr. Magnus, you'll need to summon a Healer," he called over his shoulder, and swiftly strode off toward the house.

"I'm sorry," she softly said as she pointed out the way to her room. "I don't want you to go through so much trouble for me."

"It's no trouble, Miss Granger. You're hurt and you need help," he reassured her as he bore her firmly and swiftly up the stairs.

Hermione tightened her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the feel of his flexing muscles as she nestled against his chest. Occasionally, she raised her head to look up at him and, because he didn't look down at her, was able to study his face more closely. She noted the worry lines around his eyes and mouth. The eyelashes were strikingly long and lightly grazed the skin below. His lips were fuller than she had remembered and slightly damp. His skin was smooth and his cheekbones high. He was perhaps in his late forties now, but he was undeniably the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

When they reached her room, he gently set her on the bed. Hermione was just about to thank him when she noticed his eyes flick over her arm. The spark that she had come to admire over the last few days faded from them. She knew he saw it. Although the word Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into her arm had considerably faded these past five years, at a close range it wasn't too hard to make out the word 'Mudblood'. Hermione never bothered to cover it; she didn't see the point, and she wasn't ashamed of it in any way. It only served as a reminder of what she had overcome and what evil she helped to defeat.

As he continued to stare at it, Hermione was surprised to see the color drain from his face; he looked visibly shaken to the very core.

"Mr. Malfoy—" she began, but was interrupted.

"This is all my fault," came a whisper, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Hermione shook her head. "It's not your fault. It's in the past now. It healed better than some of my cat scratches."

His eyes flashed. "But it was my fault! You were barely old enough to Apparate, and I, a grown man, stood by and watched an innocent girl be tortured by a madwoman. I never once moved to stop her! You were just a kid…my son's age…I did nothing when he went through hell…I did nothing when you faced the same. There's a reason cowards don't have war wounds."

Her waves twirled as she shook her head. "No, I won't let you blame yourself for what happened at your home. You were a prisoner there yourself, what could you have done? Stop her? How? As far as I understood, her stock was much higher with Voldemort than yours at that time. Anything you would have done may have reflected badly on the rest of your family. We both know he wouldn't have hesitated to harm your late wife or your son just to punish you."

He continued to look at her arm. "Some say that standing by and watching evil committed is just as bad as committing the evil itself. I stood by and did nothing. Of course, I rationalized by what you have just said: that I was protecting my family. It doesn't excuse the fact that I could have done so while minimizing the suffering of the people around me. Most girls your age should have been worried about passing their N.E.W.T.s at that time, not tortured in their classmate's house."

She felt tears sting her eyes and attempted to blink them back. "Please, don't this to yourself. I don't hold your past against you. For all you have done, for all you have believed, I have forgiven you. Not to be an insufferable Know-It-All, but in _War and Peace_, there's a line that reminded me of you when I read it. It says that '_it's too easy to criticize a man when he's out of favor, and to make him shoulder the blame for everybody else's mistakes.'_ So please, don't shoulder the blame any longer. It is no way to live."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "I thought a more appropriate line for me was the one about people being eternally mistaken in what they consider to be right and wrong."

Hermione's eyes twinkled as she realized he must have read it after all. "So you have read it?"

He slightly shook his head. "Not all of it. I'm in the process of reading it now."

"I'm glad. I hope it will be as useful for you as it was for me."

"We'll see," he sadly replied.

Lucius took a hold of her hand and planted a light kiss on it, just as he had done last night in the library. Then he slowly turned it over, gently caressing the old wound.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he softly pressed his lips against the fading letters.

She gasped in awe. Watching the most formidable of wizards become so humbled before her was unnerving and yet so…soothing…so right. Just then there was a knock on the door, announcing that a Healer had arrived to examine Hermione's injury. Lucius' demeanor reverted to his usual composed and collected self as he excused himself and left her alone with the Healer. Despite the throb in her ankle, Hermione could only concentrate on the spot where his lips touched her skin. And though reason told her not to get carried away by unrealistic hopes, some fantasies were just too good to ignore.

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**What do you think? Any reviews, thoughts, messages, etc. are always welcome. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all for your reviews and messages. I can't begin to tell you how much they mean to me, and I'm so excited you all like the story.**

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Hermione's head pounded with a fierce headache as she continued to analyze the events of the day. The broom incident was clearly meant to harm her, but she couldn't figure out who'd do something like that. She suspected Claire at first, but she rode off ahead of her and had arrived back before Hermione felt her broom get out of control. She was certain it had to be one of the girls since before it happened few were pleased to hear Fleur declare her a winner. Hermione made a mental note to keep on high alert for the rest of the stay, and she was definitely staying off brooms. Luckily, her ankle was quickly healing thanks to the Healer's potion, but she had to stay off of it for the rest of the day.

She closed her eyes and lay back down, trying to clear her mind. But every time she closed them, all she could picture was how effortlessly he scooped her off the ground and carried her upstairs. He was so protective, so kind, so caring, and…so sweet! Hermione never had expected that from him. The man had been getting under her skin since she had seen him arrive. After spending so much time with him and getting to know him better, Hermione could no longer ignore that she was becoming quite infatuated with him. He didn't seem repulsed by her blood status anymore and certainly not averse to kissing her, as she had originally assumed. A glimmer of hope shot through her. Hermione wasn't sure what exactly she was hoping for, but it was empowering to feel like a woman again. The way Lucius looked at her and touched her made her feel attractive and desired.

Just then she heard a gentle knock on her door and Ginny flounced in when she called for her to enter.

"Merlin's pink pants, Hermione! Fleur told us what happened! I am so sorry! I knew I should have stayed with you, and not get roped into a racing contest!" Ginny continued to fume, but Hermione interrupted her.

"Ginny! Ginny! Stop berating yourself. I'm fine really. There's nothing you could have done anyway; somebody jinxed my broom."

Her friend's bright brown eyes widened in shock. "Then we should let Minister Magnus know! Who do you think could have done it?"

Before Hermione could continue, Ginny interrupted her with her own suspicions. "I reckon it's that Claire. Every time I see her she's always shooting daggers your way and has something insulting to say. She even asked me one night how Harry feels about being bested by his wife at Quidditch. Honestly, if she had half a brain, she'd know that Harry and I play completely different positions and he wasn't interested in playing professional Quidditch; he just liked playing it at Hogwarts." She rolled her eyes before muttering, "What a stupid bitch."

Hermione frowned. "I agree, but I doubt it's her. She rode off way before I felt the broom get out of control. You have to keep eye-contact with it and she was nowhere around the entire time."

"Then it had to be one of her friends. Most likely Lavender," she suggested. "I don't think she ever got over Ron choosing you over her."

"Ginny that was ages ago!" Hermione almost laughed. "I know she doesn't like me, but she never had and, trust me, the feeling's mutual. Besides, as I remember, she seemed to excel in subjects like Divination; I doubt she knows how to cast complicated spells that don't require tea leaves and glass orbs."

Ginny snickered as Hermione continued, "I'm just going to be on my guard for the rest of the stay, in case whoever did it tries something else."

Suddenly, Ginny's eyes lit up. "Merlin's beard! I know who did it!"

"Who?"

"Lucius Malfoy! He must have done it so he could do the whole rescue bit to show off to everyone how rehabilitated he really is, or something like that."

Hermione violently shook her head. "No, Ginny. It wasn't him. It couldn't be."

"It has to be. He's a Death Eater, and he hates Muggle-borns and wizard families like mine. You and Harry could be his targets. He's probably still trying to get some kind of revenge on us. I know he's trying to tread carefully nowadays and has kept a relatively low profile, but it's not that easy to change one's beliefs, especially the ones he risked his life for. I mean, no one really stops being a Death Eater; it's for life. He probably saw his chance when you were on a broom with no one around you and put a spell on it. Then, when it didn't go as planned, he rescued you to look less guilty. It all fits! That's why it couldn't be Lavender or Claire – they wouldn't know how to cast dangerous spells like that. He does though! It all makes sense now!"

Hermione rubbed her temples. She wanted to explain to Ginny how impossible it was, in light of all that had transpired between them, but she was too tired to argue. Besides, those few precious moments with Lucius felt too personal, too precious to be shared, even with one of her closest confidantes.

"I'll just have to be more vigilant around him, then," Hermione said.

With a loud crack, a house elf appeared with their dinner. The girls thanked her and the elf left with a bow.

"I guess no one expected us to come down for dinner," Hermione said as she bit into her sandwich.

"Fleur said she'd send this up." Ginny took a bite out of her sandwich as well, and blanched before she even swallowed it. She practically flew off Hermione's bed and raced into the bathroom where Hermione heard a loud heaving noise.

"Ginny! What's going on? What happened?" she called after her. Ginny emerged after a few minutes, looking paler than ever.

"Yeah, I'm fine. The taste of pickles made me sick. I've been having this odd reaction to some foods. Must be some kind of food poisoning. It was really bad few days ago when we first arrived. Harry and I almost decided to skip the first day, but then it just went away. That's why we were late."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't sound like food poisoning, Ginny. My mum used to tell me that the smell of garlic made her just as sick…when she was pregnant with me."

Her hands shook as Ginny settled back on Hermione's bed and hugged her knees to her chest. "Oh, Hermione, I've been suspecting it, but I hope I'm wrong. One time I forget to take my potion!"

"You should really see a medi-witch about this soon. It's better to find out now, so you can plan what to do," Hermione gently suggested to her.

Ginny deeply sighed. "I'd probably have to miss an entire season with the Harpies. There's no way I'd be allowed to play if I really am pregnant. I just want to keep this quiet for now. I haven't even told Harry about my suspicions. He'd just be too worried and he'd want me to get checked out right away, and then mum will find out and tell everybody, which will take over this entire gathering. I'd rather not take attention away from Oscar and Noelle."

Ginny looked nervous and tired. "Until I know for sure, I don't want to tell anyone, okay? Not even Harry or mum, so please don't tell them."

"You know you can trust me. It's not like there's a chance of me telling your mum anyway, she's made sure to avoid me this entire time."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Mum still doesn't understand it. Don't feel bad, she'll come around eventually when she's ready to face the truth."

Hermione sadly shook her head. "She's never going to come around this, Ginny. She thinks it's all my fault."

Ginny let out a derisive snort. "Mum's been clueless about all her children for ages. She had no idea what any of us got up to half the time. It's no surprise that she didn't know how irrational Ron got since he failed his Auror training. All the information she ever had came from the owls he sent her from time to time. She wasn't around for any of his episodes. Remember when he got so pissed that he came up to me after one of my matches to accuse of me helping to cover up your nonexistent affair? Even if the duel hadn't happened, I don't see how you could have stayed with him if he kept up like that. I wish he hadn't refused our help."

Hermione pushed her food away. "I just don't understand how she believed all those vicious rumors!"

Ginny patted her hand. "Mum's love is blind. Anytime she thinks someone has hurt us, she goes into her mama-bear protective mode. Don't you remember the time when she thought you were dating Harry and that you dumped him for Viktor?"

"Yes, she believed every word in Rita Skeeter's column! I should have known back then that it was a sign of the things to come."

Getting up from the bed, Ginny sighed. "Don't pay her any mind, Hermione. Once she sees reason, she'll feel absolutely terrible. Look, she was wrong about Bill's marriage, wrong about Fred and George's business, and wrong about me choosing Quidditch over her more 'sensible' career preferences. That's how she is until she sees the truth. It just means that she has to admit that Ron had a lot of problems brought on by his insecurities, for which she is partially to blame. It's only something she'll accept with time."

Hermione nodded. "You're right. I just wish she'd let me explain what was really going on." Taking a look at Ginny's still pale face, she shook her head. "I shouldn't keep you here talking about this. You look like you could use a bit of a lie down."

"Yes, I definitely could," Ginny agreed. "We'll talk tomorrow." She walked out of the room, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts.

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Tossing and turning on the bed, Hermione realized how futile it was to sleep; she felt completely restless after spending nearly half a day in it. Giving up on sleep, she decided to walk down to the library to get something to read. It was well past midnight and she was careful to not make any noise as she crept down stairs. Her heart thudded in her chest when she saw the light on in the library, hoping it would be Lucius. Upon opening the door, she was happy to see her hopes confirmed. He looked up from the copy of _War and Peace_ when he heard the noise. At first, he looked quite irritated at the interruption until he saw Hermione smiling at him. Taking in her barely clad figure in the simple white nightgown, Lucius felt an involuntary twitch below his belt. He almost cursed himself for reacting like a school boy. Lucius used all of his restraint to sound nonchalant when he greeted her and inquired after her health.

"I'm much better now," she said. "Thank you, again, for what you did."

He shrugged. "No need to thank me. I'm glad that no serious harm came of it."

She walked closer to him.

"I see you're reading it." She gestured at the book. "What part are you on?"

He gave her a wry smile. "Just before the Borodino."

"Oh."

"I see you don't like that part." He was trying really hard to keep his focus exclusively on her face, not letting it stray to the swells of her breasts or those long shapely legs.

Hermione shook her head. "It's not that. It just means that my least favorite part is coming up."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "So you liked the broken engagement storyline?

"Not at all," she said, shaking her head. "I hated that! But I blame it on the secrecy condition. I understand why they had to wait a year; it was very sensible of Prince Andrei's father to suggest it. I just hate that Andrei wanted Natasha's family not to officially announce it. That condition ruined the proposal scene for me."

"Why?" he inquired as his eyebrows rose in curiosity.

"It's one thing to ask your fiancée to wait for certain period of time, but it's another to keep it a secret. I'd be concerned that the person is ashamed of me and is just bidding his time for something. I know that's not why he makes this condition in the book, but that's how it made me feel," Hermione explained.

"Not one for illicit romances, Miss Granger?" he asked.

She bit her lip before responding, "I-I supposed not. I can understand not being public in the beginning, but when you plan to get married, I don't see the point of keeping it secret."

"But he wanted her to have the freedom to change her mind," he reasoned. "Back then a public break up of engagement always reflects badly on the woman. It was most unselfish of him to give her that option. Considering what happened, she needed it."

"And if the engagement was publicly announced, she wouldn't have had a reason to need it," Hermione countered. "Public status would have protected her from being susceptible to the likes of Anatole."

Lucius smiled, as he got up from his seat. "Are you saying making it official would have stopped Anatole from trying to seduce her?"

She grimaced. "He's such a cad, so I doubt anything would have stopped him from trying. But I think she would have been more secure in her status and of Andrei's feelings if their engagement had official status. Of course, if Andrei was more romantic in his correspondence, then the engagement status or secrecy wouldn't have mattered that much."

"Ah, so it's his fault?"

She crossed her arms over her chest as she replied, "Not really, but marrying a younger woman, he knew she wasn't as worldly and sophisticated as his first wife, so he should have known that she'd like romantic gestures because at that age most women equate those things with love, not all the practical and sensible things that Andrei was doing."

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he asked his next question, "Are you saying that Andrei should have seduced her through his letters during their separation?"

Hermione softly chuckled. "Romanced her through his letters, not seduced. Not that seduction could have hurt. It's always nice to be pursued, to feel desired."

The wistfulness in her voice stirred something in Lucius and his next words were out before he could stop them, "You say that as though those feelings are a distant memory to you."

She blinked at him, suddenly feeling self-conscious at standing before him in her thin nightgown. "Perhaps they are. Or perhaps I've never truly experienced them."

"How is that possible?" he said, his brows furrowing in confusion.

She stared at him intently and nervously licked her lips when he took the last steps to close the distance between them. His eyes blazed with a look she didn't recognize: a mix of fierceness and determination. Her heart began to race in anticipation of what he was going to do.

"It just…is," she weakly replied as she felt herself drowning in his fathomless grays. "You have the most beautiful eyes," she softly said, unable to censor her immediate thoughts. "They're the most unique shade of gray I have ever seen."

Her face was inches from his. Lucius felt as though he was about to combust, but couldn't find the strength to move away from her and snap out of this strange reverie that trapped them. His hand came up to her cheek, cradling it in the palm of his hand. Her skin was as smooth as gossamer silk and a small sigh of pleasure escaped his lips before he could bite it back. Hermione smiled when she heard it and leaned her face into his hand, brushing her lips lightly against his thumb as she did so, sending a small frisson throughout his body. The hand on her cheek slid down and back, anchoring itself firmly against the nape of her neck. He allowed his head to drift to the side, his nose grazing the soft flesh of her cheek.

Lucius pulled slightly back to speak, "Miss Granger, you shouldn't tease me so much."

The skin of his cheek rasped against hers as he spoke, his stubble gently abrading it. Every one of her nerves was firing on all synapses, drugging her with a pleasure so intense she didn't think she would survive it.

"I'm not teasing, I'm being honest."

Lucius found himself drowning in her warm brown gaze – a gaze so open, so inquisitive, yet one that held a certain apprehension. He drew her closer, obliterating any conceivable space between them. Their lips met, softly at first until Lucius parted her lips with his and luxuriously deepened the kiss. Hermione responded in kind, marveling at the warmth and firmness of his lips. She glided her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and behind his neck to press him tightly against her. He breathed in deeply through his nose as he continued to plunder her mouth more forcibly, thoroughly exploring it with his tongue to leave nothing undiscovered. He wrapped his arms around her waist, surrounding her completely as he felt the rise and fall of her panting breaths against his chest as she clutched him to her, demanding more of him – a demand with which he happily complied.

He felt the manacles that gripped him for the last decade melt off his limbs as her lips continued to move under his. For her part, until this moment, Hermione never realized how deprived she was of relentless, all-consuming passion. She had never rated the physical aspect of her relationship with Ron as a priority, but Lucius' mouth set her whole body on fire. She had never known such arousal was possible from a single kiss. One of his hands slid from her waist to the small of her back, urging her even closer. In such an intimate position, Hermione was left in no doubt of the extent of his desire. A gasp of shock left her lips, abruptly bringing their kiss to an end.

The stark reality of their situation broke through the passionate haze that robbed him of rational thought and Lucius instinctively stepped back, ashamed of losing control and practically mauling her.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger. Please, forgive me," he breathed out and walked toward the door.

Hermione wanted to tell him that there was nothing to forgive, nothing to apologize for, that it was the most meaningful kiss of her entire life. But language failed her. She could only pant as she caught her breath and watched him walk out the door. She wanted to go after him, but decided against it. He must be just as confused as she is and in need of space, which Hermione was happy to give him. After all, the strongest of all warriors are time and patience. Time and Patience.

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**Just a heads up, as the intimacy between them progresses things will become much more descriptive, so if erotica is not your cup of tea, this is the last chapter without it. **

**Share your thoughts, if you have a moment.**

**Until next time :-) **


	6. Chapter 6

**I hope everyone's having a very happy Friday. Thank you all again for all the wonderful feedback and reviews. Things get heated up considerably in this chapter. Enjoy! All characters, as always, belong to J.K. Rowling.**

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Lucius cursed under his breath as he restlessly tossed under the sheets. He could not believe he lost control like that. He didn't know what came over him. No, that wasn't entire true. She's been getting under his skin since the very first day. Still, he didn't mean to react the way he did. One minute they were discussing the book, the next minute he was urgently pressed up against her, hungrily claiming her mouth with his. If she hadn't pulled away when she did, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself. The strangest part was that she kissed him back with equal passion. The memory of her demanding lips and lithe body was enough to cause another pang to his already throbbing erection. Lucius felt completely conflicted: she had responded to him and but he still felt as though he had taken advantage of her. She was so vulnerable before him…so open…not to mention, almost half-naked in her simple nightgown. He could clearly recall the outline of her breasts and how they moved in steady rhythm with her breathing. Her whole body felt deliciously warm through the thin fabric. He wondered how it would feel to run his hands over it, only without any barriers to impede his progress.

His mind continued to race over their conversation. Her late husband was clearly unworthy of her if he never managed to make her feel wanted. How could any man in his right mind resist wanting to seduce all senses out of her and feel her trembling under him every night? Of course, he was in no position to judge marriages, but his situation was vastly different: his late wife never professed to want an active sex life, and he never had the urge to assuage his needs elsewhere. The companionship they shared was enough, and that arrangement suited them both. Faint rays of the morning sun peaked out through the thick curtains as Lucius continued to replay the events in the library, hardly caring about sleep.

Hermione tried not to let her disappointment show when Lucius didn't show up for breakfast that morning. Luckily, Mr. Roston had quite interesting news for her. He told her about a job opportunity at his colleague's organization for the advancement and protection of rights of minority magical creatures. The headquarters were in St. Petersburg and, because he was well aware of her love of the city, he thought it would be a great prospect for her. Hermione was very excited to apply. After breakfast, Roston handed her the necessary application forms and she spent the rest of the morning filling them out. Upon owling the documents, she planned on sleuthing around to see if anyone had any useful information about who might be the culprit in her broom accident; however, before she could join the conversation of Noelle's friends in the drawing room, she was approached by Molly Weasley. It was the first time since their arrival at Ashford that Molly had sought Hermione out to speak directly to her.

"Hermione, I tried to bite my tongue but I can't anymore," the older witch said in a low, bitter voice. "I suppose it was too much to expect you not to behave as some sort of scarlet woman at this party."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked in confusion, not sure to what her former mother-in-law was referring to.

"I mean this awful business of shamelessly throwing yourself at Malfoy to win some scandalous wager. Have you no respect for Ron's memory?"

That damn wager! How did she even find out about it? No doubt from Lavender or Claire. Those two were constantly gossiping and huddling together all morning.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Throwing myself? Is that what you think?"

"What else do you call it? I know you always thought Ron wasn't good enough for you. You always seemed to prefer famous wizards, but if you had any compassion for our family, you'd stop involving yourself in this disreputable behavior!"

The younger witch defensively crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Molly, I'm not involving myself in anything disreputable, much less some childish bet. Secondly, I have plenty of respect for Ron's memory. I don't see how simply talking to a man suddenly means I'm disrespecting anyone. Most importantly, I never thought Ron wasn't good enough for me. I would have never married him otherwise! I don't know why you would think that."

Molly shook with anger as she loudly spoke, "Don't play me for a fool, missy. This behavior isn't new from you. I'm just asking you to stop cavorting with that despicable man in order to win some tasteless wager that you witches have cooked up."

Hermione took deep breaths to control her annoyance and fury, "For the last time, I wasn't trying to win and it's over, at any rate. I'm not a child, Molly, you can't tell me who I can and can't spend time with."

Molly shook her finger at Hermione and raised her voice again, "That's no what I heard! I'm tired of your lies, Hermione! If you won't stop out of respect for Ron, then do it for Ginny's sake."

Hermione could not believe her ears as she listened to Molly's tirade. The older witch spoke with such resentment and bitterness that Hermione felt as though she was catapulted back into the past, listening to the same accusations. She was about to respond when she noticed that the drawing room had grown significantly quieter as everyone present curiously turned to look in their direction when their row got louder. To Hermione's great embarrassment, Lucius Malfoy was one of the onlookers. She wanted to Disapparate from the spot when she saw him purposely stroll over to them.

"Mrs. Weasley, I must ask you not to distress Miss Granger," his tone was polite, but arctic. "I seemed to have monopolized her time this week. She happens to be an interesting conversationalist and I implored her to spend an hour in my company to end this ridiculous contest. If my actions have caused offense, I offer her my deepest apologies and promise to be more circumspect in the future." He looked very formidable as he delivered his setdown.

Molly derisively sniffed and walked off without a further word to either of them. Hermione would have enjoyed this moment had she not felt so incredibly low. She gave him a grateful smile.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she said, looking around as everyone else resumed their own discussions, but continued to throw curious glances their way. She lowered her voice to a whisper before speaking again, "And you don't owe me any apologies. Your actions didn't cause me any offense last night, if that's what you were referring to. Quite the opposite, in fact."

A warm glint appeared in his eyes. "Would you care to take a stroll about the lake with me?"

"I'd love that."

They casually left the room and walked outside, taking the same path that they took on the very first day of the party. Her arm, once again, safely in his.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Hermione spoke after a lengthy silence. "We don't usually have our rows in public like that. Molly normally saves her putdowns in the privacy of the Burrow, preferably during the holidays."

He thought carefully before asking his next question, "May I ask what happened to cause this…rift between you? I'm assuming it has something to do with Weasley's death."

She let out a heavy sigh. "Well, it all started when Ron failed his Auror examination. I kept telling him to come back to Hogwarts to finish N.E.W.T.s with me, but he refused. Harry wasn't coming back, so I guess he didn't want to either. Or maybe he felt more confident to train with him. They've been inseparable since they started Hogwarts, so I guess it was only natural…Well, in short, Harry passed and Ron failed. I suggested that he might go back to get his N.E.W.T.s again, but he just accused me of being overly critical and nagging. To be fair, I think I come off as critical when I try to sound encouraging. I've been told that quite a few times and I try to work on it to this day, but I guess…" Her voice trailed off.

"You don't sound critical to me," he offered.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at his gallantry. "That's because I've never had to nag you about finishing your homework, or studying, or…"

Lucius smirked at her. "No chance of that, Miss Granger. I happened to be quite disciplined back in the day."

She nodded. "Oh, that's exactly how I always imagined you to be."

He raised his eyebrow in surprise, but didn't comment on it. "Go on. Your husband failed his exams and then what? You were still at the Ministry at the time, correct?"

"Yes, at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"But you work at Hogwarts now?" he inquired.

She nodded. "Yes. I teach Arithmancy. I worked at the Ministry up until Ron's death. Like I said, he was absolutely gutted when he failed his Auror exams. He found fault with every alternative I suggested. I guess he felt he constantly had to prove himself to show that he was just as good as Harry and I at something, at anything really. Failing his training program just brought on all kinds of insecurities. He started drinking…a lot. Then would constantly accuse me of cheating on him.

"One of my former colleagues, Anthony Barton, became a good friend, but Ron refused to accept that his interest in me was purely platonic. Every time he drank, he would accuse me of cheating on him with Anthony and with almost everyone else. Eventually, Ron ended up challenging him to a duel. I only found out later. Had I known, I would have talked him out of it. He was drunk, of course, and Anthony's spell hit him straight in the heart. Molly obviously blamed me, and still does. She believed all of Ron's delusions. Ginny and Harry tried to tell her about Ron's problems, but we hid his condition from her since the very beginning so, of course, it did nothing to assuage her anger. I guess we can't blame her for not believing something she had never witnessed outright, but I thought after everything we'd been through she'd think better of me. I was never unfaithful in my marriage and after all the libel that _Daily Rubbish_ printed over the years about Harry and Dumbledore, and even her own husband, one would think she'd stop trusting it!"

Lucius stopped walking to look her deeply in the eyes. "You can't blame yourself for not being able to talk reason into him; he was not guided by logic. It sounds like he didn't trust you from the beginning and it got worse under the influence of alcohol. Short of Imperius-ing him, there was nothing to be done to prevent him from dueling with anyone. Men like that are dangerous. Who knows what could have happened if he turned on you instead of that Barton fellow. I'm glad something happened to get you out of that situation. You deserve better."

He thought over the recount of her marriage and felt furious with that imbecile for causing her grief. Lucius always knew that men like Weasley, who are impulsive and easily susceptible to unfounded jealousy, should never be involved in any relationship worth its salt. How did that bumbling idiot manage to marry a witch like her? Through his confusion, Lucius took comfort in knowing that he was right all along about Weasley – he truly was entirely unworthy of Hermione Granger.

"You're right," Hermione said. "I just wish Molly would stop blaming me and stop thinking I'm some kind of a uptrading slag. She took so much offense at that wager, I thought for a moment that she must have been the one who put that spell on my broom—"

Lucius interrupted her, "What spell? When? Yesterday?"

Hermione turned away from him. "Yes, when it got out of control. Professor Quirrell did something similar to Harry's broom during a match back in his first year. I thought someone might have done the same to me yesterday."

"I thought you said it was an accident. If someone jinxed it, then we should inform Armand. That was dangerous, Hermione. Whoever did it could try something similar again." He placed his hands on her shoulders to turn her to face him. Hermione felt a twinge of pride go through her at the genuine concern in his voice.

Hermione could only agree, "I know. Before Molly accosted me I was trying to do some snooping on my own—"

He shook his head at her, as his hands remained on her shoulders. "You're not going to find anything useful by asking. If you inform Armand, he could use more subtle methods to draw out the culprit. Besides, he needs to know that one of his houseguests endangered the life of another."

"So you really think I should tell him?" she nervously asked.

"Of course."

Hermione agreed and they reassumed their stroll, admiring the view of the lake as they walked around to the other side toward the gazebo.

"If you want my opinion," he offered. "I don't think Mrs. Weasley had anything to do with it. She's a mother first, so no matter how bitter she may be, I doubt she'd physically harm you."

"You know, Ginny actually suspects you to be involved."

He laughed. "I wouldn't have expected her not to suspect me! But for whatever it's worth, I plead innocent."

"Don't worry, Mr. Malfoy," she joked, "If you really wished me harm, you had plenty of opportunities to take advantage of me."

He stopped her again. "I think you should call me Lucius."

"Very well, Lucius, then you should call me Hermione."

He felt a jolt of pleasure shoot straight to his groin upon his name leaving her lips. "As for taking advantage of you, I wouldn't dream of it. No matter how enticing you look in your sleepwear." He winked at her as he said it and Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm again.

Before she could respond, she felt several drops of rain land in her hair. She looked up to see the gathering of dark clouds above them.

"We should probably go back," he suggested.

"Oh, no. I love the rain," she said as she raised her and felt few more drops rapidly fall on her face.

Lucius simply stared at her as she twirled around in the slight drizzle. After several minutes, it began to fall more rapidly and before long they were both drenched in the downpour. Hermione squealed in delight and challenged him to a race to the gazebo. By the time they reached it, they were both breathless; he managed to beat her to it only by a hair's breadth.

"It seems I am the victor this time, Hermione." The dark timbre of his voice made her shiver with longing. His eyes took on that steely certainty that reminded her of his dangerous past, except this time it served only to heighten her attraction to him.

"Do you expect a prize?" she asked.

"Always," came a firm reply as he stepped closer, appreciatively letting his gaze linger on her soaked white blouse, which had become completely transparent in its wet state.

"Then you should claim it."

He closed the distance between them and Hermione could smell the dark, masculine notes of his scent that stirred a powerful, primal instinct within her. His arms came up to her waist to pull her roughly against body as he lowered his mouth to hers, capturing her lips into a searing, fierce kiss. Her hands came up to his head and buried themselves in his dripping hair, slightly tugging on the strands. Lucius was nearly undone when she ground herself against his straining erection. The sheer lust of such action was enough to have him thrust back against her, eliciting a sensual moan from her throat. Hermione shivered against him, delighting in the contrast of sensations brought on by the warmth of his mouth and the cold of her sodden clothes. His lips moved frantically over her mouth as his tongue clashed with hers, demanding absolute submission to his relentless onslaught. Hermione lost track of time, of reality, as she was getting more and more swept away by the torrent of his ardor. Lucius broke away abruptly, sliding his hands from her waist to her shoulders, taking in her flushed cheeks and plump lips. She silently stared at him, noting his dilated pupils that mirrored her own desire.

His gaze moved to her chest, taking in the rising and falling of her breasts as she fought for oxygen. Lucius took a hold of one of her hands and brought it to his mouth to plant a tender kiss in the center of her palm, closing his eyes reverently as he did so. Hermione shuddered at the gentle sensation, so different from their violent kiss. His mouth traveled up her arm until he reached her clothed shoulder. Experimentally, he moved to kiss at the base of her neck. His actions intensified as Hermione softly moaned in contentment and wrapped her arms around his neck to hold him in place. He continued kissing along her neck, discovering every sensitive spot that made her tremble and groan. By the time he pulled away, she was left breathless, but longed for more.

Lucius fingered the buttons on her blouse.

"May I?" His hoarse tone was almost unrecognizable.

She nodded in acquiescence, unable to form a single word.

His hands deftly moved down her shirt as he released each button from its hole. He pulled her shirt open and couldn't suppress a groan of appreciation at the sight before him. He moved to touch her breasts through her bra, using only his fingertips. Outside the sheets of rain continued to shimmer and slice through the sky, the silver streams occasionally splashing them, but they didn't care; the cold spurts only added to their arousal.

With a twist of his fingers, Lucius opened the front clasp of her bra and moved the cups of the side as he took in the view before him. Hermione felt herself blush, other than her husband, no one else had seen her completely exposed like this.

"You are perfection…pure perfection," he muttered before lowering his head to her right breast.

She watched in sheer fascination as his tongue came out to slowly trace around her areola, then lightly touched the tip of her hardened nipple. He repeated the process with her other breast and continued this maddening play until Hermione gasped out his name and begged him for more. He dutifully obeyed and closed his mouth around the tight bundle of flesh, laving and sucking it deep into his mouth. She couldn't help but moan out his name over and over. She had never imagined that so much satisfaction was possible from this act alone. Even more unimaginable, she couldn't believe that Lucius Malfoy was responsible for these new sensations; the knowledge of it added an extra thrill to the most erotic experience of her life. Her hands threaded through his wet hair as she pulled him closer to her, not wanting him to stop, wondering if it was possible to come from this act alone.

Lucius was amazed at how much pleasure he was deriving from this long, slow lover's torture that he was inflicting. Hermione's surprised gasps and sighs were music to his ears; every sound and reaction set off shots of lust throughout his body. Time seemed to stand still as he his lips broke away from her breasts and trailed down the rib line, across the stomach, and paused to tease her belly button. Every part of Hermione's body seemed to be melting with the rain, soaking simultaneously in nature's embrace and her lover's. When he reached the band of her jeans, Lucius rose up and found her lips again. The sensation of his searching tongue caused her to whimper into his open mouth. He moved his leg between her thighs and ground it furiously against her as his lips mouth attached itself to her neck, sucking and nipping feverishly at the delicate skin. A clash of thunder exploded above them as the lightening danced across the sky, swallowing Hermione's cries of ecstasy as she felt her body shake with the most potent orgasm she's had in years.

After the last tremors had left her, she leaned against his strong frame as her breathing returned to normal. Their eyes met and Hermione couldn't help but raise herself up on her toes to give him a gentle kiss. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and she wasn't sure if she was trembling with the cold or the aftershock of her pleasure.

"You're shivering," his aristocratic tones floated down to her ears, barely audible. "Perhaps we should get back. We've probably missed lunch."

Hermione weakly shook her head. "I'm having a much better time here. With you."

He chuckled. "Who says it has to end?" With a wicked grin, he tightened his hold on her and Hermione felt a distinct pull of Apparition tugging her away.

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**So…how was it for you?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Lots of lemon-y goodness ahead. A big, heart-felt thanks to all of my reviewers for all of your insightful feedback. Hugs to all.**

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Hermione looked around her as soon as the dizziness of Apparition wore off. The tasteful surroundings were welcoming, but unfamiliar. She looked at Lucius in brief confusion.

"We're at my house in London. We can't Apparate into the manor and I didn't want you to catch a cold walking back," he explained.

"Incedio!" he said, pointing his wand at the fireplace. Immediately the fire blazed up in the hearth and Hermione quickly moved toward it, adjusting her blouse. He walked up behind her and tightly embraced her from behind, lightly nuzzling her neck.

"I want you," he softly said.

Lucius pulled away and lowered her onto the sable rug in front of the fireplace. She closed her eyes at the softness of it mixed with the warmth of the fanning flames next to her. Happily sighing, Hermione lay down on her back and basked in sensations as she felt the heat of the fire drying her wet clothes. Lucius leaned over her, running his fingers along the buttons on her shirt. He bend down to kiss at her neck again, his damp hair tickling her collarbone.

"Lucius," she softly sighed his name, as if affirming his presence.

She wanted to tell him so much, to ask him so much, but his mouth robbed her of rational thought. At any rate, she was tired of being rational, tired of analyzing everything. Being in the arms of Lucius Malfoy was outside the realm of reason and it was futile to make any sense of this situation. Until this moment, Hermione hadn't realized how starved she was, how deprived she was, of passion that didn't demand anything of her and promised nothing beyond immediate pleasure; all she wanted to do was forget past pain and be swept away by the man she most desired.

Lucius seized her lips and kissed her with a drugging passion. He was exploring every part of her mouth, leaving his touch and taste on every centimeter. Hermione felt both of his hands reach up to her face, securing her firmly in place he desired, leaving her completely vulnerable to the onslaught of his kiss. Her hands weakly reached out to clutch at his shirt as she willingly surrendered herself to the hunger of his embrace. Lucius cradled her body closer to his, tightening his grip, as he feasted on her mouth. A small whimper escaped from Hermione at his actions and his grip on her slightly lessened. His kiss softened as well. Lucius took his time, sliding his tongue teasingly against hers, tangling with it in a way that sent electric sparks throughout her body.

His hands left her face and she felt his fingers swiftly unbuttoning her blouse and arched off the floor to shrug it off, breaking off their kiss in the process. Her own hands reached out to his shirt and fumbled with the buttons.

"So many buttons," she panted.

"So little patience," he drawled back as he reached to the hem of his shirt to help her in her progress. Once the shirt was unbuttoned, he carelessly yanked it off and tossed it aside.

Hermione could only stare at him in wonder as sculpted alabaster skin was revealed to her. Instinctively, she reached out and touched his muscled form. Lucius slowly raised himself to stand up. His eyes burning into hers as he unfastened his belt buckle. He drew his fly all the way down and in one swift, fluid motion pulled down his trousers and underwear. She raised her wide eyes to his and he smiled his signature smile at her – half smirk, half amusement. He returned to his previous position next to her and proceeded to peel off the rest of her clothes until she was completely exposed to his leaden gaze. Lucius examined her breasts for a moment before cupping them both with his hands, the sensation caused Hermione's skin tingle and her breathing had become more strained.

"Hmm…so beautiful," he groaned out as he leaned down and captured a rosy bud between his teeth. He bit down lightly, eliciting a strangled cry from her throat, before proceeding to suck the sensitized flesh, flicking his tongue back and worth over it. She helplessly moaned and gasped at his actions as her back arched off the floor. Lucius switched his attentions to her other breast. Lightening bolts seemed to shoot through her body as she felt herself becoming more and more aroused at his ministrations.

"Oh, that feels so good!" she whimpered.

He slowly glided down her body, stopping every so often to place open-mouthed kisses on her skin. Placing a hand on each of her legs, Lucius moved them outwards and positioned himself between them. He smoothed his fingers up her inner thighs and Hermione felt his hand skim over the heated flesh of her core. Her body tensed at the unfamiliar touch and she raised herself up to look at him. During her marriage, Ron never had much patience or attention span for oral sex; the whole experience usually felt sloppy and uncomfortable. With this man between her legs, she knew it would be entirely different and almost feared to find out just how much.

"Relax," he hoarsely commanded.

She laid her head back down and gasped as a tongue swept over her. She brought her knees up and spread her legs wider. He placed light kisses on her nether lips, then ran his tongue over them and inside her, sliding up though her folds until his tongue pressed against her clit. There it teased her with feather-light licks. Eventually, his licks became less teasing and more forceful as he pressed his tongue harder against her most sensitive spot, laving it with his tongue. She writhed around, her moans becoming louder and louder as her hips involuntarily ground themselves against his mouth, clamoring for more. Lucius could sense that she was close. Sucking her clit deep into his mouth, he twirled his tongue harshly around it. His name kept pouring from her lips as Hermione thrashed wildly on the floor, every cell in her body tightening as she convulsed one final time and the world exploded before her eyes, each one of her senses blazing with exquisite rapture.

Slowly, gradually, Hermione came back down to earth. Small tremors of aftershocks continued to dance under her skin. A warm hand stroked up and down her uncovered torso, from the valley between her breasts right down to her navel and back up again. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw him gazing lovingly down at her. She briefly wondered if she was too sensitive for the final act to bring anything but pain.

"Please…Lucius," she rasped out, her voice almost unrecognizable to her ears. Hermione wasn't sure what exactly she was pleading for.

With one fluid movement, he thrust fully into her. Her eyes widened in shock and revelation. Never had she been so full; his tumescence seemed to stretch her beyond her limits. Her hands involuntarily came up to grip his biceps, as though to push him away. He grasped her hands with his and moved them above her head, holding them firmly on either side of her. When their eyes met, he grunted in deepest satisfaction but didn't move, absorbing every sensation of being enveloped by her tight, wet fit, as well as letting her get used to him.

When he could stand it no longer, he began to slowly thrust into her. Soon his strokes became more forceful. With each movement, he seemed to surge and grow within her until Hermione was once more panting and moaning underneath him. She wanted so much to wrap her arms around him and press him deeper into her, but he continued to clasp her arms securely above her head. The inability to freely move seemed to have aroused her even more and once again she felt her pleasure building up. She squeezed her inner muscles around him, causing a guttural cry to tear itself from his throat as he closed his eyes in bliss. His pace quickened and his thrusts became harder and more erratic, his hair flinging around him in tune to his fitful movements. A tingle of pleasure rippled through her body as Hermione reached her peak. It was mild and less consuming than her previous climax, but she didn't think she could handle much more than that in her over-sensitized state. The pulsation of her walls around him sent Lucius over the edge. His head fell back and with a cry of her name, he came. Hermione felt his hot spurts shoot up deep into her – his release unremitting. With a last burst, Lucius breathlessly collapsed on top of her, releasing his hold on her hands. She held him close, enjoying his heaviness pressing down on her.

After some time, he rolled off to the side, his breathing still labored. She leaned over him, stroking his hair from his face, and placing soft kisses along his jaw. Lucius proceeded to wrap his arms around her and pull her body over to him so that she lay nestled within his embrace, as his hand stroked down her back. Slowly, her body began to relax at the soothing movements. Gradually, she became aware of being tired, her eyelids feeling heavy now that all the excitement was over. And it did feel so comfortable resting her head on Lucius' warm chest, listening to his heartbeat, and feeling his lips brushing across the top of her head. She knew that what had transpired between them today didn't promise romance or commitment; it was a pure release of their mutual attraction. In a week's time, they will go back to their lives and may never get another opportunity like this one. For now, however, it was exactly what she needed – the most perfect seduction. Finally, there was a man who could not only fulfill her fantasies, but surpass them. It was her last thought before her eyes closed and she fell into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Hermione woke up after what felt like hours completely warm and relaxed. The wizard lying underneath her was there – she could feel his body against her. His breathing was heavy and regular, his chest rising and falling strongly against her head; he was still asleep. She smiled at the memories of what had happened: the gazebo, Apparating to Lucius' house, and the intense lovemaking that followed. She just wanted to stay right here with him, curl up against him again and let the heat of his skin soothe her tender body; Hermione couldn't fathom wanting to ever leave the position she was in. Wondering what time it was, she carefully lifted her eyes up to look around the room, making sure not to move her head, but there was no visible clock. Hermione carefully lifted her head off him and planted a tender kiss on her lover's chest. At this, Lucius inhaled suddenly and deeply. She pressed her body tighter into him. The change in his breathing indicated that he was awake. His hand on her back resumed its sensuous slow strokes. She wondered how he would react and what he would say; feeling slightly nervous, Hermione remained silent.

Then Lucius spoke, low and smooth as ever, an immediate balm to soothe her rising anxieties, "I could get used to this."

"Me too," Hermione breathed into his chest.

"I take it you have no regrets, then?" he queried.

"None," came her firm response.

"We'd better get back before they start looking for us."

She softly laughed. "I suppose we must."

They raised themselves up and proceeded to dress after Hermione cast a Hot-Air charm on their still damp clothing. She didn't want to go back, but knew there was no other way. They Apparated to the gazebo and walked back to the house in silence, stopping occasionally to steal a quick kiss. Fortunately, the main entrance was devoid of guests as they were all probably getting ready for dinner. Lucius gallantly walked her to her room, stopping just outside her door.

He wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, "Thank you."

She gave him the warmest smile he could ever remember seeing. "I think I'm the one who should be thanking you."

"Will I see you after dinner?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. In the library?"

He nodded before leaning down to capture her lips in another one of his soul-searching kisses, leaving them both breathless as they parted. Neither one noticed a solitary female figure surreptitiously watching them the whole time.

* * *

**Uh-oh! Busted! But it's hard**** to be vigilant with Lucius around ;)**

**I know their intimacy may have happened a little fast but, at this point, they're assuming that this party is the only time they'll have to be together. I wanted it to be a little different from the longer fanfic romance I'm writing that's based on _Beauty and the Beast _but set in modern times, so that's why I wanted these two stories to differ from each other since I started writing them simultaneously. _  
_**


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione took more care than usual to get ready for dinner. Her mind continued to replay the events of the day as she picked out a form-fitting black dress with a daring neckline. She normally wouldn't choose something like this for a simple dinner, but tonight she was feeling particularly bold and the thought of meeting up with Lucius later in the library made her body tingle in anticipation. After carefully applying some make-up and styling her hair, she was just about ready to head downstairs when she heard an insistent knock on her door. She answered it to see Ginny heave out a sigh of deep relief before she marched past her into the room.

"Hermione, thank Merlin, you're alright! I've heard about your row with mum and Fleur said you left with Malfoy and no one has seen you since. I've been sick with worry! I thought he must have done something to you."

On Ginny's last sentence, Hermione tried really hard to conceal her smirk. Luscious Lucius most certainly did something to her…and she couldn't wait for him to do it again!

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry. I went for a walk to clear my head and Lucius was nice enough to keep me company."

Ginny snorted. "Nice? HIM? And did you just call him 'Lucius'?"

"It was his idea. I've been spending a lot of time with him and, yes, he's very nice and polite – a true gentleman, in fact."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock. "Bloody hell, Hermione! Are you feeling alright? Since when has Malfoy, any Malfoy, been a gentleman? Unless your definition of a gentleman includes bigoted, manipulative Death Eaters."

Hermione tried to hide her annoyance. "Former Death Eater, Ginny. He's really changed, for the better from what I've seen. War changes people, makes them reevaluate their beliefs…their lives."

"Oh, Hermione, people like him don't change, not fully. He's an opportunist, pure and simple. I'm sure his active Death Eater days are over for now, but if a lucrative opportunity will present itself, he's the sort who'll pick up his wand again if he thinks there's anything to gain from it." She paused as she shifted from her position on the edge of Hermione's bed before changing the subject. "So where did you go to after you went walking with him?"

Hermione shrugged. "Nowhere. We got back almost an hour ago."

Ginny gaped at her in disbelief. "Wait, you were with him this whole time – walking? Where did you walk to for so long?"

Avoiding eye contact with her friend, she answered her as nonchalantly as possible, "We just walked around the estate and talked. Well, I mostly talked, vented more like it, and he just listened and offered some very sound advice."

"Hermione! You promised to be careful around him! You don't know what else he plans to do. Remember, he could be responsible for your accident."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione tried to reason with the fiery redhead. "Ginny, he didn't do it. In fact, he encouraged me to report this to the Minister."

"Well…good, you should definitely tell Magnus. It still doesn't prove that Malfoy didn't do it," Ginny argued.

"And I don't see what proves that he did," Hermione retorted back, growing increasingly agitated with Ginny.

"You're a Muggle-born, he's a Death Eater – that's pretty much all the reason he needs," Ginny said, folding her arms over her chest.

"But why do it in front of everybody where he could have been easily caught? Why not try anything during all those times we were alone without any witnesses?"

Ginny thought for a moment before responding, "It sounds like there were no witnesses. No one saw anything suspicious, right? I heard that he can do nonverbal spells and wandless magic, so it's easy to look innocent in front of company while hexing someone, or something."

"Once I've talked to the Minister, I'm sure he'll investigate further and will be able to uncover more useful information," Hermione offered. "Maybe someone did see someone acting suspiciously, but didn't think it was relevant at the time."

"Then he should start by interrogating Malfoy. He's the only Death Eater here and Magnus is the one who invited him…"

Hermione interrupted Ginny's further accusations, "Enough Ginny! He didn't do it, so please, drop it."

"You don't know that for certain."

"But I do!"

Ginny regarded Hermione suspiciously, "How?"

Hermione tried to sound diplomatic. "I told you, I was with him alone, quite a few times this week. If he wanted to harm me, he could have done it then."

Ginny stubbornly shook her head. "It's not his style though – much too obvious for someone like him. It makes more sense for him to choose the broom method since he likes distancing himself from his victims and crimes. He looks less guilty that way and doesn't get his hands dirty."

"Trust me," Hermione said as calmly as she could, "I got to know him during the last few days. He's not interested in getting revenge or what have you. He didn't even want to be here."

"A likely story for him to tell you! Of course, he'll say anything to hide his true intentions." She narrowed her eyes, then turned to Hermione again, "Just how much time exactly have you been spending with him?"

"A lot, Ginny," she gave her an honest answer, not seeing a reason to withhold the truth. "He introduced me to Mr. Roston. He knows I enjoyed many of his works. He's quite fun really; he taught us this Russian card game one night and we all get together in the evenings to play. I'm glad I got to know them both. They have made this stay very enjoyable. Mr. Roston even recommended me for an exciting job opportunity in Petersburg."

Ginny gawked at her. "Wait! You're thinking of leaving the country?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not tomorrow, but if this opportunity works out, why not? It wouldn't be permanent or anything, and I'll get to live in one of my favorite cities." She softly smiled at the prospect. "But it's a long shot, really."

"Normally, I'd be very happy for you but…doesn't it strike you as odd that an associate of Malfoy's barely met you and is offering you a position abroad…where you don't know anyone?" Ginny asked, before continuing with her thoughts, "It's like they're trying to lure you way to an isolated place, so when something happens, there'll be no one to help you right away."

"Ginny, you remind me of Mad Eye sometimes. First, you're convinced that Lucius is trying to harm me for revenge. Now he's plotting with Mr. Roston to lure me to a foreign country?" Hermione let out a short laugh. "Honestly, Ginny I think living with an Auror is rubbing off on you too much; you've crossed the line from vigilance into paranoia. Neither one of them is trying to harm me. Mr. Roston is a renowned scholar who offered me only an opportunity to apply for a job in a city I've expressed much admiration for; the job's not even guaranteed for me. And Lucius has shown me nothing but compassion and understanding. Taking it all together, I don't see how their actions are coordinated to lure me anywhere."

"Is there some other Lucius that you know around here? Because I'm talking about Malfoy."

"So am I. You're not listening to me, Ginny. I'm trying to explain to you that he's changed. He even apologized to me for not being able to stop Bellatrix from torturing me."

Ginny rapidly blinked. "Odd, he's never apologized to me. I guess I should expect one any day from him, huh?"

"Ginny, I don't want to argue about this. Let's just drop it. Are you coming down for dinner tonight?"

She frowned. "Don't even mention the word 'dinner'. The only thing I haven't vomited yet is soup. Why do they call it 'morning sickness' anyway?" Ginny continued to ramble on about her distressing situation.

As concerned as Hermione was, she was also hungry and eager to get to the dinning salon as she had skipped lunch and hadn't had a morsel to eat since breakfast.

"Ginny, have you told Harry yet?" she interrupted her.

She shook her head. "No. I want to wait until I've seen a medi-witch. I don't want to tell him until I'm sure."

"Then let's go to see a local one on Monday. I'll go with you. We'll be very discreet. Maybe she'll even be able to give you a potion for your morning sickness; it sounds very severe in your case. You don't want to risk dehydration."

"You're right," Ginny agreed, "let's go Monday morning."

Hermione gave her former sister-in-law a warm hug and reassured her of her full support. A few minutes later, the two parted ways as Hermione made her way downstairs and Ginny scurried off to her room.

* * *

During dinner, Hermione sat right across from Lucius and they've been eyeing each other all evening with him occasionally giving her one of his signature smirks as he teasingly made subtle allusions to their afternoon. She tried to ignore the rush of wetness between her thighs as she attempted to focus on more serious matters. As soon as she had finished her meal, she sought a private audience with Minister Magnus where she proceeded to tell him all about the events of the previous day. Concern was increasingly evident on his face as he asked her more questions about the accident, wanting to know every detail. By the end of their conversation, he assured her that he will thoroughly investigate the matter and cautioned her to be extra vigilant and to report anything out of ordinary to him. Feeling much relieved, Hermione strode to the library to wait there for Lucius. Almost as soon as she had walked in, she felt strong arms wrap around her waist.

"You have kept me waiting, " his reproachful tone floated to her ear as he nuzzled her neck.

"Not deliberately," she said, lowering her voice. "Besides, it serves you right; you were absolutely impossible at dinner."

"It's your fault for looking so ravishing in this dress."

His mouth descended to her neck and she instinctively craned her head to the side to give him better access. One of his hands left her waist and slid up her torso to cup one of her breasts. Her eyes fluttered shut as she sighed with pleasure and pushed up into his hand. She grasped his other hand at her waist and brought it up to her other breast and ground her body against his growing erection. He could stand it no more and swung her around to face him and backed her silently against one of the tables, easily lifting her up on it. Hermione opened her thighs, inviting him to come closer. He readily accepted her invitation and then, finally, bend down to bestow another fierce kiss on her – devouring her lips, thrusting his tongue into the warm wetness of her mouth.

She gasped in shock when she felt his warm, supple fingers skirt along her thighs, gliding higher and higher. Looking into his silver gray eyes, she almost felt as though she was drowning in their infinite depths. He, however, remained as impassive as ever, staring dispassionately back. Hermione thought she would come from the anticipation alone, and then his hand was there, moving into her knickers, and deliberately, exquisitely probing her. He delicately stroked her, rubbing her electric bud of nerves. She did not think she could draw enough breath to stop from passing out and her mouth opened to pull in more air. The clenching in her core drove her mad and she was desperate for release. His fingers moved more forcefully now. She was there. Her body froze with expectant rapture, then the exquisite pleasure shot through her body. Her eyes closed and she pulled his head down to kiss him again, almost bruising his lips with harsh kisses. His fingers did not leave her for the longest time and the convulsions shook her insides over and over. It was so intense that she could not even utter a cry. Then her body sagged as she eventually came down.

Lifting up her head to look at him again, Hermione was disappointed to find him peering at the doors leading out into the courtyard.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing. I just thought I heard something."

"I didn't." She hopped off the table and stood in front of him. "You know you have been so very…attentive to my needs today, I thought I'd return the favor."

Her hands were moving up his chest, curling around the nape of his neck. Lucius sucked in a deep breath. "I thought you might be a tad…worn out from today's activities."

"I am," she smirked, letting her hands trail down his front, undoing the buttons on his trousers, and releasing his hardening cock.

Lucius groaned. "Perhaps we should go somewhere more…private?"

But she had knelt before him, and with a fluid motion, her tongue came out and licked fully around the head of his now fully erect member. He hissed with pleasure, drawing his hand down to hold her there. Hermione started working fervently, pulling him deep into her, sucking her cheeks in hard around his considerable length, licking, tasting, swirling her nimble tongue rapidly over him.

"Hermione…so good…"

He stared at the sight before him. Blood pulsed fast around his head. Her mouth worked him ever more skillfully, taking him deep before pulling up to lick teasingly into the slit. Through the rush of pleasure filling his head, came a strange rustling sound from the courtyard doors again.

"What was that?" he hissed. With his last vestige of reason, he pulled back and readjusted his clothing in order to investigate the source of the sound.

"What now?"

"I thought I heard something by those doors again." He looked hard outside, but could see nothing untoward.

Hermione hardly cared. "There's nothing there, Lucius." Extinguishing the lights in the library, she pushed him hard against the doors and immediately returned to her unfinished business. He didn't stop her.

She gripped his lower length in one hand, and with a few more deep drags of her mouth over his smooth head, he felt himself reach his peak.

"I'm going to come, I'm going to come, Hermione. Pull off me!" He fumbled for a handkerchief.

She flung his hand away. "No! I want to taste you!"

Hermione lowered her head to him for a final time. Lucius was beyond rational thought. As her tongue swept hard over him again, he burst heavily into her, his white seed falling thick into her mouth. His groan of fulfillment echoed around them. Hermione sank back onto the floor, holding him in her mouth. Lucius glanced down to see her swallow before he could hand her a handkerchief.

He slumped down beside her. "I'm sorry, I would not presume for you to…"

"I didn't want it any other way." She smiled at him. "You're such a gentleman."

He smiled back, unsure what to say, but wanting to address his curiosity. "Have you always done that?"

"No," she honestly answered.

She had never particularly enjoyed the act, and when she had indulged Ron, she had never allowed him to come in her mouth. This was the first time; she certainly didn't have any qualms now. She smiled at him. "Only for you, Lucius."

He kissed her gently in gratitude, before standing and adjusting his clothing. Offering his hand, which she took, he pulled her up and she fell heavily against him.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispered into her hair.

There were no words; she could only nod in agreement. They left for his room, not remotely aware of the gleeful witch waiting in the courtyard, clutching her camera and rejoicing at how her scheme had worked out much better than she had expected.

* * *

**A certain witch needs to get a life, am I right?**

**Once again, I want to thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I love reading your thoughts and feedback, it's very helpful. Happy Friday to all :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you all for the excellent feedback! I'm so glad you're all sticking with this story. Per usual, I don't own any of the characters or canon situations, they all belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

The bright sunrays poured through the heavy curtains as Hermione slowly woke up from the most restful sleep. The memories of yesterday filled her head and she smiled in dreamy contentment. After they left the library, they spent the rest of the night in his room, playing the Russian card game, the Fool, and reading their favorite parts of _War and Peace _to each other until they had both fallen asleep; it was the perfect end to the most unforgettable day. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had spent the day sipped in such hedonistic pursuits. She leisurely stretched and turned over, only to find the side next to hers completely empty. A crushing wave of disappointment washed over her. She wanted so very much to see what Lucius looks like whilst sleeping, to feel his body heat against her as they shake off the remnants of dreams. Their encounters, although fulfilling in so many ways, had mostly occurred in semi-dark places and Hermione hadn't gotten a proper look at him, even though she longed to explore every inch of his delectable body.

On catching the sight of the clock, she nearly sprinted out of bed – it was almost eleven! She hadn't realized it was so late. Smoothing out her dress, she carefully opened the door and tentatively peeked out, seeing no one in the hall, she slipped out and hurried to her room. Acting on autopilot, she quickly cleaned up and changed out of her clothes. Knowing she missed breakfast, she wondered where Lucius was and decided to check their usual spot in the library. As she had guessed, she found him complaisantly reading in the courtyard with his back to her. Hermione wanted to rush over and embrace him, but something stopped her. It was as though, despite what happened between them, she had no right to do that.

He must have sensed her presence because he turned in his seat to look at her. A gentle smile danced at the corners of his mouth as he gestured for her to come closer.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty, you're just in time for brunch." It was only then that Hermione noticed the food at the table.

She walked over to take a seat next to his. Before she could do anything else, he reached out for her hand and planted a soft kiss on it.

"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked.

"I left you to catch up on your sleep." He paused, then continued as his familiar smirk formed on his lips, "You clearly needed it."

"And you didn't?" she teased back.

He raised his eyebrow at her. "I hope you're not questioning my stamina, my dear."

"But you can question mine?"

"I'm not the one who fell asleep before things really…progressed last night."

"Fair enough. But in my defense, I've been out of practice in that area for over three years now," she countered.

"Really? Even when you were practically a newlywed?"

She avoided eye-contact and focused on buttering her toast as she replied, "Like I said, my marriage quickly fell apart and even at its best things weren't…like yesterday…like they were with you. I've never really thought that marital duties were very important to be honest."

His eyes widened in surprise at her revelation. Hermione shook her head in embarrassment and tried to laugh it off. "Oh, don't look at me like that! I don't even know why I'm telling you all this."

"Perhaps it's because I can relate. My own marriage wasn't particular amorous and the last five years were entirely devoid of physical intimacy." His voice was completely serious as all traces of their flirtatious banter disappeared.

It was her turn to be surprised. "I'm not sure I believe you. I admit, I only got a small taste yesterday, but you're a rather attentive lover."

"As opposed to what? Did you think I was a selfish bastard in bed?" His tone resumed its playful note once more.

She shook her head, unable to conceal her embarrassed smile. "Oh, no. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that most women dream of finding a lover like you, so I assumed…well, I don't know…I can't picture waking up next to you and not want to…"

"Shag my brains out?" he offered.

"That's one way of putting it, yes." Hermione hoped her cheeks weren't as inflamed as they felt.

"I suppose it goes to show you that _'all happy families are alike, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.' _Or something to that effect."

Her smile brightened. "Look who's quoting Muggle literature now? I have to say, I'm impressed."

"There's no harm in broadening certain horizons and good literature is good literature, Muggle or otherwise. Besides a certain witch recommended the book and since her last recommendation proved to be exactly what I needed, I was curious to read more. Of course, it may take longer for me to finish this particular novel because the witch in question is bent on being so delightfully distracting."

Mirroring his earlier gesture, she raised her eyebrow at him. "Distracting? How do you mean? By doing something like this?" Her hand reached over to lightly graze his thigh, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. "Or this?" She leaned over and lightly kissed him on the cheek.

He quickly turned his head and smoothly caught her mouth in his. Their ravenous lips fused together. His mouth was so possessive, as though he was trying to imprint his scent and taste on her. She felt one of his hands slide to the back of her neck, slightly massaging the sensitive skin there. Hermione couldn't prevent a slight moan escaping into his mouth and he answered it with a grunt of satisfaction.

"I believe you just proved my point – you are a distraction," he said after reluctantly pulling away from her.

"Is that all I am – just a distraction?" she tried to sound nonchalantly flirtatious, but a distressing tremor could be heard in her voice.

His eyes softened and he slightly shook his head before pulling her in for another kiss.

* * *

Their interlude together was, as usual, cut short as the social activities that Fleur and Noelle had organized demanded their attention. After lunch, everyone gathered in the rose garden for wine tasting. Ginny, for a change, joined everyone, but pointedly refused the wine, claiming it might upset her recovery from recent stomach flu. Not surprisingly, the conversation centered on Noelle's upcoming wedding. With Hermione politely asking the young witch about the venue for their nuptials.

"We haven't decided on any particular place yet. I want it to be somewhere rather magnificent though," Noelle announced. "Alicia Fudge had hers at Versailles. I want mine to be twice as big and ten times as grand!"

Magnus' eyes twinkled at his future daughter-in-law's words. "Twice as big and ten times as grand, eh? That amounts to twenty times as expensive."

"Oh, don't be so stingy, papa," Oscar piped up. "I'm only getting married once."

Noelle pouted. "It must be _the _event of the season, otherwise, why bother?"

"Don't worry, my dear. You and Oscar can have whatever you wish," Armand lovingly replied and soon everyone began making suggestions about possible wedding locales, each one more outlandish and extravagant than the next.

Hermione tuned out the rest of their conversation as she glanced over at Lucius, beckoning him with her gaze. He discreetly made his way over to her as she quietly stepped away from her group.

"This particular wine is especially…delectable, don't you think so, Miss Granger?" She felt a rush of wetness between her legs at the way his tongue caressed each syllable in the word 'delectable'.

Slightly blushing, she nodded in agreement. "Absolutely, Mr. Malfoy. I really like the way the flavor just bursts in your mouth." She took a sip of wine and seductively licked her lips for emphasis.

His eyes darkened with lust as he mimicked her actions with the wine. "I look forward to having more of it while we're here."

"As do I." She smiled at him. "And I don't just mean the wine."

He leaned closer, lowering his voice so that only she could hear his next words, "I know. If you're interested, you can try Superior Red, it's a quite special brand of wine that my apothecary has produced for centuries."

She licked her lips and was about to reply when Mr. Roston interrupted them. Hermione felt the urge to give him one of her glares that, in the past, she normally reserved for Harry and Ron when they were procrastinating on homework. But she quickly brushed the urge aside, feeling slightly guilty for her thoughts. Poor man obviously had no idea he interrupted a private moment and they were here primarily to socialize with others, not exchange innuendoes between themselves. Unaware of his interruption, the older man had launched into a story about his wine tasting experience in Hungary. Lucius was about to reach for another glass of wine that appeared next to him, but Roston intercepted it and eagerly gulped down its contents. He was in the middle of flamboyantly describing a particular vineyard in Tokaj when his eyes lost focus and his voice trailed off.

"She's a beauty, no?" Mr. Roston sounded absolutely besotted.

"Who is?" Lucius asked, narrowing his eyes at his friend's sudden change in demeanor.

"Claire Lutte, of course. Those luminous eyes and luscious lips – what a goddess!"

Hermione alarmingly looked at the glass in his hand and promptly yanked it away.

"Hermione, I think someone spiked his wine with a love potion!" Lucius exclaimed, shielding Roston away from Noelle's group.

"Why would anyone want to spike his…" she stopped when a realization dawned on her. "It wasn't meant for him! It was for you! That devious Claire!"

Lucius anxiously looked around. "I'll get him out of sight to the library before he embarrasses himself and you need to ask Armand if he has an antidote on hand. If not, someone will have to watch him until I can fetch one from my stores."

"If Mr. Magnus doesn't have one here, I can brew it," Hermione suggested.

A corner of Lucius' mouth twitched. "Of course, you can. Why am I not surprised?"

With that Lucius practically dragged Mr. Roston back into the house as Hermione made a beeline for Minister Magnus. Discreetly describing the situation, she quickly learned that he didn't have the antidote in the house, but had the ingredients to make one as well as various texts on potion-making. She rapidly scanned the shelves of the library until she found exactly the book she needed. Grabbing the familiar tome of Borage's _Advanced Potion-Making_ off the shelf, she raced into the kitchen. After finding the antidote for Love Potions, she quickly assembled the ingredients and began brewing, adding Wiggentree twigs until the potion turned green. Once it reached the desired shade that Borage described, she stirred it until it turned orange, then added castor oil until the liquid changed into a vibrant shade of cobalt. She continued stirring and watched as the blue hue transformed slowly into a deep purple. Hermione smiled to herself. She had forgotten how much she had enjoyed Potions – the art of using the right ingredients to create something greater than itself, something more useful, more potent. It never ceased to amaze her how the right combination of various ingredients can create quite staggering results; results that would have been impossible to achieve without the merger of those specific elements together.

When the right hue of purple was reached, Hermione liberally added Gurdyroot extract and more Wiggentree twigs. She let the potion simmer until it turned red then added more Gurdyroot extract again followed specifically by seven Wiggentree twigs. Hermione carefully stirred until the potion happily bubbled bright pink and allowed it to simmer, waiting for it to turn as clear as water. It didn't take long and once it was ready, she poured it carefully into a vial and bounded up the stairs back to the library.

"Here," she breathlessly said, handing the potion to Lucius.

He promptly convinced Mr. Roston to take it by telling him it was from Claire. They watched as Mr. Roston's silly expression changed back to normal and then to one of utter horror.

Poor man was thoroughly mortified by what had happened and profusely thanked Hermione and Lucius for their quick thinking and discretion. Magnus stormed in shortly after and was relieved to know that Hermione's antidote had worked.

"I may have to employ some of Ministry's more…covert tactics to get to the bottom of these strange events. First, Miss Granger and now Mr. Roston," the Minister of Magic ran a hand through his thinning hair, looking completely disturbed.

"Mr. Magnus," Hermione carefully began, "I don't think Mr. Roston was the intended target. The glass was near Mr. Malfoy."

He held up his hands. "Now, Miss Granger, I understand your concern but let's not be too hasty. We don't know that for sure."

"But the potion made him infatuated with Claire and Claire has made her…admiration for Mr. Malfoy very clear from the first day here," Hermione argued back. "You can ask Noelle, if you don't believe me."

"I've talked to her and several other female guests. It appears that an empty vial of Cupid Crystals was found. It's a Weasley product by the looks of it," Magnus explained. "It's hard to ascertain exactly to whom it belonged as several guests are avid customers and the shop's packages have been continuously arriving all week, more so as we're getting closer to the engagement ball next Saturday."

"But Claire—" Hermione began once more.

The Minister held up his hand. "She claimed to be innocent and mentioned that she herself may have been a target for a prank of some sort by one of her friends. Seems like a silly misunderstanding, but taking into account what happened with Miss Granger's broom, I shall investigate this further. Luckily, Mr. Potter offered to help. Not that I think we'll need an Auror for this, but his skills wouldn't hurt."

They discussed the recent events at some length and then Mr. Roston and the Minister excused themselves. Hermione herself was eager to get back to her room as she felt a headache coming on.

"You are amazing…brilliant, in fact." She saw Lucius beaming down at her in wonder.

"It took you this long to realize it?" she cheekily replied, smoothing out her hair that had become noticeably bushier from the potion's fumes.

"I didn't know you were such a talented Potioneer. I see Severus has taught you well."

"Well, yes, I used to be quite good in school—"

"Quite good? I'd say you're excellent. Believe me, I would know, I'm quite accomplished in Potions myself." His haughty smirk once more graced his lips.

She glowed from his praise, but didn't acknowledge it. "I just wish Minister Magnus would take my suspicions about Claire seriously. The first day I met her she was quite determined to become the new 'mistress of Malfoy Manor', if I may use her exact phrase. She made it obvious that she's determined to get you to marry her."

Lucius made a face. "Believe me, my dear, she'll need more than Weasleys' Love Potions to accomplish that! I am not remotely interested in matrimony. And more importantly, I've no interest in Miss Lutte; she's the most vapid young witch I've had the displeasure of meeting in recent memory."

After conversing for a few more minutes, Hermione excused herself to her room, needing a lie down. Upon arrival, she immediately noticed several papers on her bed. Someone had been in her room. On closer inspection, she saw that they were older articles. One had to do with Lucius arguing for the ban of _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_ from the Hogwarts library. He was quoted saying that he didn't want pureblood children to be exposed to any material that depicts marriages between Muggles and wizards. Hermione incinerated the article with a flick of her wand; she was already aware of this incident and Lucius' views on the matter.

The second article, however, struck a particular perturbing note with her. It described the tradition of pureblood wizards routinely taking on Muggle-born mistresses, so as not to taint the reputation of fellow pureblood and half-blood witches. With another flick of her wand this article met the same fate as the first one, but the uneasy feeling in her stomach was much more difficult to banish. If anything, the article mainly confirmed what she had already known – that there would always be an unbridgeable gulf between her and Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

**Always happy to hear your thoughts :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you all, once again, for your insightful reviews! Some of you have guessed correctly that there's more than one culprit behind the mischief at Ashford Park.**

* * *

Hermione skipped dinner that night to spend time with Ginny. They discussed their upcoming trip to see a medi-witch tomorrow.

"I still think you should tell Harry before we go. We can all go together," Hermione suggested.

Her friend's eyes clouded with fear. "I've tried Hermione! I've tried so hard all day, but every time I open my mouth to tell him, I can't. If it is true, I-I'm not sure I want to go through this. I'm not ready for a child. Harry and I definitely want a family, but neither of us is ready for it now; both of our careers take us away from home. It's just not a good time to even think about children."

Hermione reached over to hug her friend. "Whatever you decide, Ginny, I'm here for you, but no matter what you do, you should tell Harry. It's not right to go through this alone and he'd want to know."

"No, Hermione. I can't tell him. And you can't either! He'd want to keep it; it's just how he is. His mum died protecting him. How would he look at me if I did just the opposite? I can't take that risk, Hermione. But I can't be like my mum either! I don't want a house full of kids, maybe two or three, but that's it."

"I won't tell him, Ginny. You know you can trust me, right?"

Ginny nodded.

"I don't like keeping things from him, but I won't tell him anything. Just promise me you'll talk to him before deciding anything. I know Harry, he'll support you no matter what."

"I promise," Ginny gloomily agreed and then changed the subject to this afternoon's events. "So what's Minister going to do about all this? You did tell him about the broom incident as well, right?"

"Yes," Hermione began, "and he's handling everything with typical Ministry style: nothing's being done. He said he's been talking to people, but nothing's come out of it yet. He mentioned something about having Harry's help, but—"

Ginny interrupted her, "Typical do-nothing politician that Magnus. Why can't he just put Veritaserum in everyone's drinks before he starts asking everyone?"

Hermione shook her head. "He can't because the Ministry has to monitor and approve uses of it. He can't use up official stores to solve a personal problem at a house party. Well, he could but he'll have to justify the actions to the Administration Committee and I'm sure he doesn't want to deal with him in case it damages his re-election chances in the future."

"But he could easily justify using it! Your life was endangered and now we have someone slipping Love Potions into peoples' drinks. What next? These incidents aren't accidental and one of them could have easily resulted in a serious injury."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Look, I've been thinking and I've come up with a plan. Magnus said he's been questioning some people—"

"And look how well that's going!" Ginny interjected.

"Well, exactly and anyone can just lie," Hermione said. "So, I want to propose to Magnus that he should ask each person that he questions to sign a special parchment that states that the testimony of the interviewee in regards to those two incidents was completely true. If they had lied about either slipping the Love Potion or about what happened with my broom when they've signed it, then we'll know who the culprit, or culprits are."

"But how…" Ginny started to ask, but then a realization dawned on her as Marietta Edgecombe's face boils sprang vividly to her mind. "Of course! The parchment jinx! Hermione Granger, you are brilliant!"

"I figured it's the best way to lure out whoever's behind all this. I have a strange feeling that it's not just one person," Hermione confessed. "Claire is obviously responsible for the Love Potion…remind me to pen a thank you note to your brother, by the way."

Ginny's hands flew to her head. "Oh, of course! The WonderWitch products! How could I forget? I've seen their delivery owls here all week. It's not all Love Potions, pimple vanishers, and joke products. I distinctly remember seeing the purple wrapper of the new invisibility products. Sounds like all kinds of tricks will be played at the ball."

"Really?" Hermione asked in surprise. "George has expanded his defense line?"

"Yeah, remember how Fred and George started with just invisibility hats? Well, George, expanded on that and now he sells cloaks too. I mean, they're obviously not real like Harry's, but they're said to last up to year – very popular by what I can tell."

"As long as no one else is buying anymore Love Potions, I suppose a little prank won't dampen the party."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was sitting out in the courtyard as usual, staring out into the twilit evening, lost in his thoughts. How right he was in coming here! After what started out as the most insipid house party had turned into the most erotic getaway.

He was just about to go to her when Roston came into the library.

"Lucius!" He called out to him. "Just the man I was looking for."

"I'm always here, Sebastian."

"Yes, but not always alone. I'm surprised Miss Granger's not around here somewhere." His eyes twinkled with a mischievous gleam.

"I don't know what you're implying."

"Not implying anything. I just noticed that you seem to have a new intrigue."

"For Merlin's sake, Sebastian—"

"A man like you, why not? You're a widower and your family is all grown. You can do whatever you want. A younger woman will do you good at this stage in your life – keep you on your toes, keep you young."

"I'm not sure it's the best idea. She is…"

"She is just the witch for you."

"Sebastian, you of all people should know better than to suggest a relationship that comes with such…impediments."

"I'm not suggesting you marry the girl, but a little diversion never hurt anyone."

"And how long will the diversion last before the witch in question finds something…or someone more palatable to her lifestyle?"

"All things come to a natural end; the best you can do is to enjoy it while it lasts. My advice: keep it light, don't make promises you can't keep and be sure your arrangement is mutually beneficial. That way when it ends, it doesn't come as a surprise and there is no injured party."

"But you forget that such an arrangement is impossible with her. She's not the type to be interested in merely being someone's mistress…" he trailed off before speaking again, "Not to mention other things that become very difficult for her."

"Well, who's to say you have to be public about it? A discreet arrangement is just the thing to do in such cases. If you keep it private, who's going to know unless one of you talks? Forget whatever impediments exist and just see where it goes. Otherwise, you'll end up like me, drifting from place and place and wondering what might have been."

Lucius had to admit the man had a point and made up his mind to see Hermione right away.

* * *

A rapid knock on her door, startled Hermione as she hurriedly wrapped a towel around herself and rushed from the bathroom to answer the door, sure that it must be Ginny. To her great surprise, it wasn't Ginny at all.

"Lucius! What a surprise! I was j-just…um…I was taking a bath."

A familiar glint appeared in his eyes as he accessed her barely clad form. "I can see that. Care for some company?"

"Depends on the company." She clutched the towel tighter around her body as she stepped aside to let him in.

He closed the door firmly behind him and leaned down to kiss her. Hermione moaned in surprise and angled her head, her lips sensually following his. He gripped her shoulders hard, locking her against him, his tongue slipped inside her mouth and sought hers. Her arms encircled him, her hands sliding sensually over his backside, tugging his shirt out of his trousers and letting her hands slip under it. She admired the tone and strength of his body as her hands explored his back. His kiss became demanding and hungry and she responded to him, melding into him with a slow growing desire of her own.

She could feel his erection straining against her. Her hands slid over the hard, lean muscle of his back and hips as the expert assault of his kiss robbed her of her senses and eradicated her concerns. His hands cupped her face, and she moaned as he shifted his head to the other side, his mouth teasing her lower lip. She reached up, pressing her lips more firmly to his, her mouth opening slightly, and his tongue slid seductively between her lips, teasing her mouth. Then he slowly released her.

Wanting the contact back, Hermione stretched up to kiss him again, and he kissed her back with equal fervor. No one had ever kissed her with such seductive tenderness mixed with a fierce demanding need. Lucius broke away and kissed the pulse pounding at the base of her throat and slowly dragged his tongue up the throbbing vein to the spot just below her ear where he nipped the skin lightly with his teeth. He rocked his pelvis into her, pressing the hard column of his cock against her belly. Immediately she felt the answering rush of wet desire between her thighs. She moaned and curled her nails into the back of his neck.

"Lucius…I love it when you do that," she said as he began nibbling along her jaw towards her mouth.

He closed his lips over hers, using his teeth to tug at her bottom lip and open her mouth for his tongue. He kissed her again while his hands gathered her towel in one of his hands and flung it roughly off her body as he lifted her by the backs of her thighs. He adjusted her so that her legs were draped over his arms and her back pressed against the door, his hands filled with the plump flesh of her bottom.

"Open my trousers."

She reached between them and quickly had his trousers open and her hand filled with long, strong, aroused male flesh. She rubbed his moist tip between her folds before pressing him against her opening. He moved his arms, pushing her thighs wide open as he desperately shoved into her, her back slamming into the door.

"Oh my God!" She cried, holding on to his shoulders as though her life depended on it as he took her fast and hard against the door.

"Not God, but close," he groaned, never missing a beat as he pummeled her with his erection.

Lucius had one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard and lashing it with his tongue. Hermione slid her fingers into his hair, cradling him against her breast as he pumped into her with abandon. He was a very tender lover during their previous encounter, so it was very surprising to see him act so out of control, having his way with her furiously up against the door while people roamed the halls outside.

"Can't get enough of you…want you," he grunted, straining into her until she threw her head back against the door, stifling her scream of release as she pulsed around him, milking his orgasm from him. He held on to her despite his shaking knees.

"Lucius, we shouldn't have done it here, not without Silencing the room at least. You are such a bad influence," she groaned as little aftershocks shot through her. He grunted in her ear and she chuckled, knowing he didn't care one bit about the unspoken proprieties of being a house-guest.

"Haven't you heard? I'm a Death Eater – I am bad," he drawled, nipping her lips one last time before he withdrew and let her thighs slide down over his hips and back to the floor.

"Oh yes, that little detail. It tends to slip my mind every time you make me come."

"Then I guess this can serve as a little reminder." He leered, pulling her into his arms and kissing her tenderly. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, I'm fine. Better than fine, actually," she affirmed as she rewrapped the abandoned towel around herself.

Lucius too adjusted his clothing and proceeded to awkwardly pace in front of the door.

"Before I got carried away, I came here tonight to ask you something," he informed her. "As you know, I've been quite lonely for…well, for far longer than my widowerhood allows. And these past few days, being with you, I no longer feel that way."

Hermione's heart began to beat faster at the line this conversation was taking, but remained quiet and let him continue uninterrupted, "I like spending time with you and I'm too old and have been alone far too long to just settle for a willing bedmate. I'm not the type of man who settles for any light dalliance – I want something more."

He really does care, she thought as she attempted to steady her hammering heart and twisted the edge of the towel with her sweaty hands. Just when she thought this liaison could never have a future outside this party, here he was obviously proposing to continue it. Oh, people would be shocked once they saw them together, but who cares about all the scandalmongers? They would be together as a legitimate couple!

Hermione smiled encouragingly at him and nodded, trying to convey her agreement to his line of thinking.

His next question caught her off guard, "Do you like teaching?"

She wasn't sure how to answer that or why was that question even relevant. "I like it well enough. It's not what I was hoping to do, but after the way I left, I doubt the Ministry would take me on again."

"But you wouldn't mind leaving?"

She shook her head. "No, I wouldn't, especially if something better comes up. In fact, Mr. Ro—"

"So if I could offer you better, would you leave Hogwarts?"

Their eyes clashed and tangled as Hermione assessed his last question. A lengthy silence settled between them.

"How do you mean?" she asked at last.

"I would set you up in London, in your own home," he said. "You would lack for nothing, and you can even look for a career more suited to your liking."

She stared at him for several more minutes, her expression unreadable as the last article she had read materialized in her mind, mocking her previous happy thoughts.

"Hmm, let's see: a place in London, no worries about money, and all the time to do what I liked. And how exactly would I earn all this? By becoming available to you at all times?"

He was taken aback by her icy tone. "It's not like that. I understand that you have a life of your own. I'm not proposing a kind of arrangement that would only revolve around me. I'm proposing to take care of you and to enjoy each other's company whenever we both desire it."

"As long as no one knows about us?" she offered.

"Of course. Things could become difficult for you, if they did. I made many enemies in the past and an association with me will not do you any favors. In all honesty, it may even hurt your reputation."

"Minister Magnus associates with you; Mr. Roston associates with you. How am I any different?" her words were spoken with seeping anger.

"There is a world of difference between men long established in their careers and a young witch whose accomplishments in school outnumber her working years," he stiffly replied. "Not to mention the fact that public knowledge of us would also hurt you socially."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? The Weasleys?"

He heavily sighed. "No, I mean that you should be free to still pursue the life and interests that you want. Someday, you may want a family of your own. I cannot offer you that and do not want our time together to rob you of future opportunities when they present themselves. I don't want you to feel as though you would be under any obligation to stay with me if you decide to get married and start a family of your own."

"And the secrecy is necessary because…" she prompted him, fighting back her tears.

"Because of all I have just now said. So you wouldn't be defined by your relationship with me. It's much more favorable to date a widowed war heroine than a Death Eater's ex-girlfriend," he explained with annoyance.

Hermione trembled with anger and hurt. "I thank you for your concern and your offer, Mr. Malfoy, but I'm afraid I must decline. I've never had an ambition to be a prostitute, you see. Never! And that's what I'll be if I agreed to your proposal. I've never been the type to advertise my personal life, but I'm not the type for secret trysts either. If our relationship has to be hidden away, then I don't want it at all."

"Hermione, I'm only thinking of what's best for you—"

"I'm afraid the pleasure of your company has worn rather thin, Mr. Malfoy. I'd like you to leave now," she said, cutting him off.

She turned away from him as he politely bid her good night and walked out the door. When she heard the door close behind him, she sank down onto her bed and wept. Despite warning herself not to get carried away by their attraction, when he had said that he could offer her better, for one flitting moment, she naively thought he meant marriage.

* * *

Lucius took a stroll around the lake, despite the darkness of the night. He had absolutely misread the signs. She had been willing enough to indulge in a brief encounter with him while here, but not enough to enter into any prolonged relationship with him – not the only kind he was willing to offer. He was exceedingly sorry about all that. She had made him feel so alive this past week, more alive than he felt in years. It was as though the long, cold winter of his life was finally approaching the warm thaw of spring.

He didn't understand why she refused. He hadn't misunderstood the nature of their attraction – she made it obvious enough during their encounters. Had she wanted him to offer more? Hadn't she realized what kind of scandal would rain down on her if their liaison became public? Surely, she knew it would make her life difficult. He groaned with disappointment. This tedious house party had just taken a turn for the worse and once again, it was entirely his fault. He was deprived of intimacy for so long that his mind must have jumped from attraction to passionate embrace to sex, and then to something altogether more serious. She clearly had a different view of things. He shouldn't have said anything and just enjoyed this last week with her. It really was so unlike him to act so impulsively without thinking through all the implications.

Lucius continued to stare out at the dark waters of the lake, wishing he could go back in time and change their entire conversation. This is the last time he'll ever take romance advice from Sebastian. The next time he's choking on a Love Potion, he'll just stand back and watch him make a fool of himself.

* * *

Hermione slowly made her way down to breakfast. Her eyes felt uncomfortably heavy from lack of sleep and tears. She didn't think it was possible to cry so much. Few people were present at breakfast table when she came down and was about to sit down when she noticed a copy of _Witch Weekly_ on her seat. Thinking that someone was saving this seat, she moved down, but Lavender stopped her.

"You may want to read that today. There's an article about someone of great interest to you," she said, twirling her hair. "You may also want to put some ice on those bags." She indicated to Hermione's face. "Wouldn't want your lover boy to see you like that."

Lavender hurried off before Hermione could say anything else. She didn't know what that witch had implied, but took the magazine and flipped through the pages until she came across a picture of her and Lucius furiously embracing in the library. Their mouths passionately fused as her hands clutched at his shirt and his quested under her dress. Someone was spying on them that night! Her eyes fell to the article that accompanied the photo and as she read it her heart swiftly dropped to her knees.

_**A SECRET AFFAIR EXPOSED!**_

_They say that Malfoys have many secrets and Lucius Malfoy has been no different in that regard, writes Rita Skeeter. Since the end of the war, the notorious Death Eater has been seeking solace in the arms of none other than Hermione Granger herself! The Muggle-born witch has been known for her tastes for famous wizards, having previous relationships with Harry Potter and the Bulgarian Seeker, Viktor Krum, before marrying Ronald Weasley. However, marriage seemed to pose no impediment to Miss Granger's ambitions and she soon enticed the staunchest and richest Death Eater into her cunning trap._

_Since the death of his late wife, Mr. Malfoy has been quite open about the previously secret liaison. Our source at Ashford Park confirms that he has spent an entire week at Miss Granger's side and they have secluded themselves in their private quarters during the evenings, shunning all other company. It is unknown whether there are going to be any wedding bells for this devious duo in the near future. As your humble correspondent has been unable to reach Mr. Malfoy's only son, Draco Malfoy, we can only guess at how he must feel about his father's infidelity with a former Hogwarts classmate, and can only hope his new family will comfort __him at this time of personal betrayal._

* * *

**The road to HEA is never easy though. As usual, I love to hear what you think. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you for all of your comments. Though this story is mostly complete, I love when someone inspires me to take things in different directions :)**

**I still own no one!**

* * *

Lucius frowned at the persistent knocking on his door. It was much too early for company, especially after the night he had.

"Just a minute," he growled, throwing off the comforter and staggering toward the door. He swore under his breath as he swung that door open, ready to curse whoever was on the other side. He froze when he saw that it was Hermione. His chest constricted at the distressed look on her face.

"Hermione! What's the matter?"

She waved a magazine at him. "You're not going to believe this, but we're Rita Skeeter's latest scoop of lies."

He took the magazine and flipped through the pages until a moving picture of a couple passionately embracing stopped him dead in his tracks. Lucius remembered that moment vividly: it was the first day he made love to her and later they met up in the library and it was so good. It had been so long since a woman had taken him in her mouth and that day was perfect; he never thought that such pleasure was possible. Shaking off his memories, he began reading the article. It was a typical Skeeter-style drivel; the only accurate part of the story was the photo. He tossed it aside.

"You know I never understood why Muggles used to burn witches, but the more I read of Skeeter, the more I understand those actions. Any ideas on how we can entice her to go to Salem?"

Hermione laughed. After a night like last night, she didn't think laughter would come so easy, but the image of Rita in flames along with all of her articles was just too hilarious.

"I thought I heard someone out there that night, but I didn't see anyone," he mused out loud. "It must be when this photo was taken."

Hermione nearly smacked herself. "Of course! They probably used one George's invisibility products! Ginny said she had seen a lot of those wrappers this whole week! Whoever bought one probably used it that night. Of course, that means they expected us to be there together."

Lucius nodded. "So whoever it was must have seen us together earlier."

"Well, we weren't exactly discreet. They could have seen us out by the lake, or when we came back," she speculated.

"Look, I'm going to write to the editor of that rag and ask for a retraction on that article. As for the photo itself, I'll go down to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and see what legal action I can take. Mind you, there will be action, this is clearly an invasion of privacy."

"Not really, we were in a public room and we didn't take any precautions to conceal ourselves," Hermione countered.

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now you see, don't you? This is exactly what I was trying to avoid."

Her eyes flashed as she glared at him, crossing her arms across her chest. "Being your secret whore wouldn't have stopped anyone from doing exactly what happened here. If anyone had seen us and taken photos, our relationship status wouldn't have prevented this person from selling them to Skeeter and her gossip rag."

He looked positively scandalized. "Hermione! That's not what I was offering you last night at all. Why do you keep equating it with prostitution?"

"That's because it's what it is!" Her voice rose a notch as last night's anger returned to her. "I can't believe you'd suggest something so degrading!"

"Degrading? I was having your best interests at heart. Being with me will require you make to make certain changes and I can't ask so much of you without offering compensation. It may sound unromantic and cold, but it's an arrangement that makes sure you get something out of it when you decide to move on."

"I can't decide whether I'm more insulted about the fact that you put a price on our relationship, or about the fact that you wanted to keep it secret. This is exactly the problem with secrets: you have no control how they will be exposed! Somebody will always see and assume the worst!" She gestured toward the discarded magazine. "This is just one example of that!"

Lucius was not used to being chastised by witches. How dare she lecture him? He was only trying to be fair to her.

The woman was just too frustrating for words!

Of course, she's too trusting and naive to understand the negative consequences of having a public connection to him. Does she really not realize how hostile the Board of Governors can get at Hogwarts? He should know, he was one of them!

"My proposal last night was not meant to insult you in any way; it's the only sort of relationship I can offer. I'm not in the first bloom of youth: I've been married and raised a child – that part of my life is over. I can't offer you the kind of future a woman your age would want or expect. All I'm offering is companionship. The only reason I brought up financial compensation is not to put a price on the relationship, as you so eloquently put it, but so you'd have some benefits for putting your dreams and goals on hold to be with me, to be my companion until you choose to move on. I don't see how that's equivalent of you prostituting yourself. These types of agreements are very common where I come from."

"Well, they're not common where I come from," she weakly responded, weary from arguing. "Can we not discuss this right now? Please?"

A sharp rapt from the window suddenly distracted interrupted them. It was an owl with an unmistakably red envelope of a Howler. As he opened it, Draco's angry voice filled the room, "A MUDBLOOD, FATHER? REALLY? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MOTHER, TO OUR WHOLE FAMILY? HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING YOU TAUGHT ME? IT'S SICK! IF YOU MARRY HER, I WON'T EVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR GRANDSON! YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST BEEN DISCREET ABOUT IT! YOU DISGUST ME!"

Then the envelope swiftly burst into flames, its ashes scattering onto the carpet.

"I should go, Ginny's expecting me."

With that she rushed out of his room, but before she could take another step, she saw Harry and Ginny staring at her with utter disbelief, holding the wretched magazine between them.

"Is it true?" Harry asked as soon as they were in the privacy of his and Ginny's room.

"Of course, not! How could you even ask me that?" she indignantly asked.

Ginny waved the photograph in front of her face. "Hello? A picture is worth a thousand words and all this one says is 'we've been shagging like rabbits in heat'. You said you were spending time with him, not that you were doing him!"

"I have explained everything I needed to – I wasn't having this epic affair with him; we only started seeing each other at this party. It was a one off, that's all. Shouldn't we be more concerned that someone's at this party is feeding Skeeter dirt on all of us."

Ginny pursed her lips. "If it was a one off, what were you doing in his room just now?"

"What's with the interrogation, Ginny? The only reason I went to see him is to show him the article. It affects him too, you know."

Harry interjected. "We're not interrogating you. You can't expect to have a picture of you and him practically doing it in a national publication and not expect some questions about it. I mean, we're family, after all."

"I know I just have a lot to deal with at the moment."

Ginny patted her. "I know. I'm glad to hear it only happened once. You're not actually planning on seeing him after this, are you?"

Hermione stepped away from her friend. "And what if I am?"

"Are you mad? He's a Death Eater, Hermione! He watched that bitch torture you! At his house! It's obvious that he's using you!" Harry fumed.

"Using me? For what?"

"Anything! Who knows what his angle is?" he continued, "He could be using you to make himself look more reformed, or he could be just using you for sex. Pureblood wizards have a tradition about that, don't they? Either way, he's dangerous, Hermione. What were you thinking?"

"I understand your concerns," Hermione said, "but trust me, he's different. He's changed so much; he's hardly the same wizard we used to know."

Ginny looked astounded and shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe a smart witch like you could fall for that act. Men like him don't change! Whatever lies he's telling you, a wizard like him can't change his fundamental beliefs. War or not, I don't see someone like him suddenly involving himself with someone he views so below him. He thinks my family is trash, imagine what he still thinks of Muggle-borns like you! Wake up to the facts, Hermione! No man has ever changed just because a woman slept with him! Not one! Don't delude yourself into thinking you can have some kind of relationship with him."

"Yeah, and I mean it's Malfoy's dad. He's like fifty or something. That's gross!" Harry chimed in.

Ginny tried to sound sympathetic as she agreed with her husband's sentiment, "I know that you and Ron were terribly mismatched, but you shouldn't give up because of that. You can find someone slightly older and more mature, but someone who will truly care for you and love you. Someone who won't give two straws about your blood status. Someone who didn't try to kill any of us in not-so-distant past. You deserve to be with someone who's as amazing as you are, and that man is not Lucius Malfoy."

Disinclined to argue with Ginny, Hermione made an excuse to leave their company. She needed to find Minister Magnus to tell him about her parchment plan. She only managed to make it downstairs when she was confronted by another Weasley. Molly Weasley. The woman charged toward her like a bull, her face almost as red as her hair from fury.

"YOU! I knew it! I knew it! You brazen hussy! Sullying yourself with a Death Eater! Have you no shame? If you wanted his disgusting, bloodstained hands touching you, why did you marry my Ron? He could have found such a nice girl."

"Molly, you have this all wrong, as usual! This photo is from this party. I never had any affairs while married to Ron! I was faithful—"

"You despicable trollop! How dare you mention his name?" Molly raised her wand as if to curse Hermione, but before she could utter any spell, the wand flew from her hand and gracefully landed into an extended hand of a man at the foot of the stairs.

"Mrs. Weasley," came the aristocratic drawl that could only belong to one wizard, "you will remember never to raise a wand at her again, do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Lucius' eyes blazed with anger as he stepped into the hall and walked up to them. At that moment, Hermione remembered the danger she sensed when she was caught staring at him on the stairway over a week ago.

"Give me back my wand this instant!" She shrieked. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Lucius Malfoy! You're old enough to be her father!"

"Do compose yourself, Mrs. Weasley. You're going to cause a most distasteful scene. I always thought only the most feeble minds in the wizarding world believe the muck that Skeeter woman writes. Of course, coming from your kind, I am not at all surprised."

"At least, my kind doesn't have blood on their hands. Now give me back my wand unless you want to end up in Azkaban again!"

"Really? I admit I have been out of the loop with the Ministry these past few years, but it never struck me that Arthur had that kind of power and influence. My, my things must have changed indeed then. "

"How dare you—"

"I dare a great deal, but that is neither here nor there. Azkaban or not, the next time you raise your wand at her, will be your last. Rest assured Mrs. Weasley, I am not above resorting to less savory tactics."

Molly glared at him with the most venomous look Hermione had ever seen on the Weasley matriarch's face. "My wand, Malfoy."

He elegantly handed it to her. She snatched it from his fingers and moved toward the staircase, but Hermione blocked her way.

"Why are you always so eager to believe these slanderous lies of Rita's?" Hermione calmly questioned her. "You don't take her books seriously, but you believe her muckraking lies in _Witch Weekly_? They're worse than the _Daily Prophet_. You know that the only time that woman ever got her story straight was because Harry and I blackmailed her into writing an article for _The Quibbler._ So why, Molly?"

"You broke poor Ronnie's heart! You've always been selfish and deceitful! Nothing he did was ever good enough for you! I hope you're happy being a Death Eater's floozy, because dalliance is all he will ever offer you. Now get out of my way." Molly pushed her way past Hermione.

"Arthur!" Molly Weasley's shrill voice echoed in the space around them. "We're leaving!"

Hermione turned to look at Lucius. "You didn't have to do that again. I can take care of myself."

"I do not doubt that." His hand went to her hair and slowly moved one loose strand behind her ear, his fingers outlining its shell in its deliberate progress. Then his hand continued to move further down. His finger tips slightly skimming her skin as they traversed down the length of her neck. Hermione sharply inhaled at the unexpected contact.

He closed the space between and, for a brief moment, Hermione wondered if he was going to kiss her. His eyes swept over her mouth and one of his hands gently touched her arm. But he made no further move toward her. She was almost relieved. For if he had kissed her again, she'd be unable to stop and ask him to make love to her again, and perhaps she might even ask him to repeat last night's offer. As his silver gray eyes blazed with that familiar cold light straight into her own, she knew right then she would have probably agree to it – agreed to anything he asked. The tension was becoming unbearable and she moved to step away from him, but the hand on her arm tightened, holding her firmly to him.

"I regretted coming here from the very beginning," he said, almost to himself rather than to her. "The more time we spend together, the more I realize what a colossal mistake I had made."

His hold on her loosened and she raced up the stairs to her room, out of his sight. She regretted coming here too, but had no one to blame but herself. She had known that Molly Weasley would be here, blaming her eternally for Ron's untimely death. Hermione had known this and she had come and taken her abuse. She wished she had defended herself better just now, but at least, she's said out loud that which has weighed on her for the past two years. The days following Ron's death, she had been too distracted and distraught to defend herself properly against Molly's accusations. Now it was high time she finally unleashed her grievances. If she had only refused Fleur's invitation, then not only would she have avoided that harridan, but nothing would have ever happened between her and that wretched man. She hated him. It was an alarming thought, as hate was not an emotion she felt often, even during the war.

Once in her room, she lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling and attempting to calm her nerves. Her body came an involuntary twitch. She knew that at times of distress, her damaged nerves from the Cruciatus Curse gave out periodic spasms. Hermione closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. A long time had passed before she sat up and adjusted her disheveled appearance. There was less than a week left of this party and she had resolved to survive it to the end. Then she could go back to the comfortable routine that defined her daily life and hide her heart firmly within it.

* * *

Lucius felt very much discomposed. He had almost kissed her. Why? She had rejected him, made it clear how offended she was by his offer and he was once more making a fool of himself again. No fool like an old fool, he wryly remembered an old saying.

He had badly miscalculated when it came to the witch and he was more than annoyed with himself for that. But his own feelings in the matter paled into insignificance when he saw how hurt she was by Molly Weasley's asinine behavior. The Weasleys had always been vulgar, but he never took them to be either spiteful or vindictive and the older witch had been all those things to Hermione the entire stay at Ashford. The Weasley woman had certainly aired the family's dirty linen in the most unseemly public manner on more than one occasion. How terribly déclassé.

Yet he was learning something rather interesting about Hermione during these confrontations. There was a certain vulnerability about her; a quality which provoked a compulsive need in him to protect her from the boorishness of Weasleys and their ilk. Of course, an attraction to her was also responsible for such feelings; the same attraction which led him down this horrible path to begin with. He had felt it, acted on it, and then offered to make her his mistress. She had poignantly refused and there is an end to the matter. It should stop him from further interest in her life and all of its complexities. Annoyingly, it didn't. He's been hiding in shadows for years after the war and then when he saw her leaning over the banister from that very first day, he felt the light. Through the darkness of the tunnel that was his life, she was the bright light at the end.

_Everything was lit up by her. She was the smile that shed light all around her._

And although she did not want anything to do with him anymore, he was still unwillingly dazzled by the resplendent radiance of her light.

* * *

**The quote in italics belongs to Lev Tolstoy in _Anna_**_** Karenina**._

**Share your thoughts, if you have time. They're always most appreciated :)**


	12. Chapter 12

"I am so sorry. I will get to the bottom of this, I promise you," Minister Magnus profusely apologized, then turned indignant. "No guest of mine will be treated like this! I will find the culprit and promptly show them the door! In the meantime, I'll confiscate that magazine and ban all future deliveries!"

Hermione shook her head at him. "That's not necessary, sir. I don't think blanket censorship will help this situation. What we have to figure out is who took that picture and reported lies to Skeeter about us. I'm certain that the person who is responsible for the picture is also responsible for my broom accident."

"She's right, Armand," Lucius agreed. "I have already written to _Witch Weekly_ and not only demanded a retraction, but contacted my solicitor about the situation. Rita Skeeter will rue the day she decided to make me into one of her poison-quill stories."

"As it happens, I have a better solution for Rita and for our mysterious perpetrator," Hermione claimed with a sly smile.

Both men turned to look at her, as if just noticing her there.

"Minister Magnus," she said, "I know something about Rita that might be of considerable interest to the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I know and can prove that she is an unregistered Animagus. Since it's illegal, I'm sure one owl to the office of Improper Use of Magic will put an end to her gossip career, at least for a while."

They both looked at her in astonishment.

"How do you know this, Miss Granger?" the Minister asked.

"I caught her in her Animagus form in my fourth year at Hogwarts. At a Tri-Wizard tournament, every time a beetle was around, the information in a conversation it was privy to would appear in the _Daily Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_ in one form or another. For my silence, she didn't write for a whole year and it was also how she was persuaded to write about Harry's account with Voldemort in _The Quibbler._"

Lucius' eyes dangerously glittered. "That's it then, Armand. Hermione will send an owl to report the old harridan for registration failure." He turned directly to Hermione. "You should also mention what her Animagus form is and its distinct markings." Looking back at Magnus, he continued, "Failure to register as an Animagus results in an Azkaban sentence, does it not?"

The Minister eagerly nodded. "Sentence duration varies, of course, but since she had used her Animagus abilities for unethical purposes and for so many years, the Committee at Improper Use of Magic Office will definitely mete out one of its harshest sentences for it. And I will personally see to it that they do."

The blond wizard gave a derisive sneer. "Make sure that you do, Armand. If those imbeciles at Law Enforcement will fail to punish her accordingly, don't think for a minute that I'll let such an insult go without retribution."

"Come now, Lucius," Magnus said, clearly uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken. "Let's not get too hasty with threats. I will make sure that Miss Granger's report will get the highest priority and will be thoroughly investigated." Lucius looked as though he was about to interrupt him, but the Minister of Magic held out his hand. "And when investigation will corroborate Miss Granger's report, I will see that they vote for the highest sentence in such cases. Rest assured, Rita Skeeter will see the inside of Azkaban walls."

"Good." Lucius turned to look at Hermione. "What about this other solution of yours?"

"All we have to do is ask certain people to sign this parchment," she held up the blank document in question for emphasis before continuing, "before we question them about the suspicious events that have transpired last week."

The Minister looked confused, but Hermione kept on explaining, "I have placed a Parchment Jinx on it. If anyone lies to us, we'll know it right away."

"How—"

"Just trust me, Minister, you will see."

He adjusted his round spectacles and rubbed his temples. "I assume you have someone in mind."

She eagerly nodded. "Two someones, in fact. Lavender Brown and Claire Lutte."

"Now Hermione, we have to be careful where Miss Lutte is concerned. She is a daughter of a French Ambassador of Magic. I do not want this to cause any…unpleasantries."

"And it won't," she confirmed, "especially if she's honest."

Lucius said nothing but looked at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

"Then let's not delay," Magnus said and moved on to summon the first suspect.

Claire Lutte sashayed into Minister's study and blinked in confusion at the three people seated behind his desk. Minister Magnus explained kindly to her the reason for the questioning. She readily complied and signed her name to the parchment, while giving Lucius what Hermione assumed was supposed to be a seductive look, but made the young woman appear rather duck-like.

"Miss Lutte, were you responsible for Miss Granger's broom accident last week when we all went to explore the nearby Roman ruins?"

Claire innocently batted her eyelashes at him. "Minister, sir, how could you even ask me that? I don't know such jinxes. And more importantly, I'd never do something so vulgar! I am a lady, after all!"

Magnus held up his hands. "That's all right, dear. Just had to ask, I have explained that this is only a standard procedure. No one is accusing you of anything. Moving on. Do you remember when I questioned you about a love potion that was slipped into Mr. Roston's glass?"

"Yes," she affirmed. "I can honestly say, I didn't slip anything into Mr. Roston's glass. I'm as much of a victim in this as he is!"

"Did you slip that love potion into a glass intended for Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione interjected.

Claire gaped at her and then quickly looked away, smiling sweetly at the Minister of Magic. "It was only supposed to be a silly prank! Oscar's friends were all playing tricks on each other and there was this love potion bottle, you know from Weasleys' shop and because of our previous wager they thought it would be funny if someone slipped it into Mr. Malfoy's glass. I know it wasn't at all the thing to do, but we all had a bit too much wine and weren't thinking clearly." She turned to Lucius and gave him a syrupy sweet smile. "I hope you will forgive my momentary lapse in judgment, Mr. Malfoy. I meant no harm and I hope you will accept my sincere apology."

Lucius gave a noncommittal nod, and looked at Hermione. There was no effect to indicate that Claire was lying. After a couple more questions, Minister Magnus sent her away. He called in Lavender next.

"Miss Brown," Magnus addressed her, "we're wondering if you could help us solve a mystery here. Last week, Miss Granger had an accident on her broom. Do you, perchance, know anyone who is responsible for it? Have you seen anyone casting a spell or heard someone talk about it?"

"No, of course not!" She flipped her hair over her shoulder and defensively shook her head. "I can't believe you'd think I'm capable of such a thing."

"Please, Miss Brown, no one is accusing you. I was only inquiring." The Minister narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her. "Let us move on. There is another matter. Another crime has been committed against our guests here. Their privacy has been violated in the most grievous manner. As you can understand, I want my guests to feel safe in my house and that cannot happen if certain individuals lurk around in dark corners and make profit by selling secret information to the likes of Rita Skeeter."

"But I didn't do it!" She sneered at Hermione and Lucius. "It's not my fault some people don't have enough discretion or propriety in your home."

Magnus ignored her response. "Perhaps someone mentioned taking the photograph that's been published in _Witch Weekly_? Have you heard any talk about that, Miss Brown?"

"Of course. Everyone is gossiping about the article, but I haven't heard anyone say they took that photo. I can only speak for myself, but I am entirely innocent and don't understand why I'm questioned like a criminal. Some people have only themselves to blame for whatever scandal they bring upon themselves, unless they like that sort of thing…OW!"

The younger witch brought her hands up to her cheeks as she let out a another scream.

"What's the matter, Miss Brown?" Magnus asked as he leapt to her side.

"I-I don't know…my face…it's like it's stretching…WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE THOSE?" she shrieked in panic as her fingers raked over her cheeks and nose. "WHAT'S ON MY FACE?"

She removed her hands and Hermione saw the Minister spring back in horror. The Parchment Jinx had worked just as it had once before: across Lavender's arrogant features the word 'liar' was spelled out in revolting purple pustules.

"It seems you were dishonest with us, Miss Brown," Lucius' calm, aristocratic tone sounded above Lavender's panicked cries.

"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF MY FACE!" the witch continued to scream.

"We will, as soon as you become more forthcoming," Lucius said.

"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I was just trying to get back at HER! I was angry when she used her tricks to win that wager! She's always hungry for attention and I was only trying to teach her a lesson, first with the broom and then with that picture. She only has herself to blame. She wanted attention and now she has it in spades. WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE REMOVE THESE OFF MY FACE?"

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Hermione said.

Minister Magnus looked at her in horror. "What do you mean 'impossible'?"

"I mean they're meant to go away on their own. There's no counter jinx to remove them." She turned to address Lavender, "Don't you remember Marietta Edgecombe from DA? She has scars to this day."

"You've used the same vile jinx on me? How dare you?"

"In your senseless quest for revenge, you ended up hurting a lot of people, Lavender. You must remember there are consequences for your actions."

"DON'T LECTURE ME! YOU ARE NOT SO PERFECT YOURSELF, HERMIONE GRANGER! You stole Ron from me only to run around on him with a bloody Death Eater! You sicken me! At least now everyone knows that the brightest witch of her day is nothing more than a common whore!"

With a swift movement of his wand, Lucius send a silent spell straight at the distressed witch. Her eyes bulged out and she stopped talking. From where she was sitting, Hermione could see that Lavender's tongue began to swell and protrude out of her mouth.

"Now that's enough of that! Lucius, we have enough tempers flying around here. Do compose yourself!" Magnus commanded him as he bent down to Lavender and summoned a house-elf to call for a Healer.

Lucius surveyed the scene before him with disinterest. "Let this serve as a reminder to Miss Brown to mind her tongue in the future in my presence. The next time you call Hermione a name, you will sorely regret it."

Minister Magnus tried to calm Lavender down as he escorted her out of the room, leaving Hermione and Lucius alone.

"Well, well who knew you were so adept at Dark Arts?"

Hermione's eyes flashed with anger as she turned to him. "That jinx is not a Dark Art."

"Yes, it is. It permanently disfigures the victim and like you said, there is no counter jinx for it. And from the sound of it, it's not the first time you've used it!" he argued. "I never thought you had this in you." There was a certain admiration lurking in the depths of his eyes.

"Stop it. Short of Veritaserum, it is the only way to weed out sneaks and liars. It's not really surprising that it was Lavender. She's had it in for me for a long time."

He got up and offered her his hand. She took it and rose up from her seat, trying to avoid further eye contact with him.

"I'd better get on with that letter," she said, but he made no move to release her hand.

"It can wait." His tone was daring her to look at him as his hold on her hand tightened and his thumb massage her knuckles.

The sensual strokes reminded her too much of the past few days. The air was becoming much too stifling, making it very hard to breath. He appeared to be completely unaffected.

"No, it can't. I must go. I think it's best for us not to see each other anymore." She yanked her hand out of his grasp and hurried from the room.

* * *

The next few days until the ball followed with same predictable routine for Lucius. He went riding with older men in the morning, played cards and discussed politics and international affairs with Sebastian and Armand at night. He participated in as few of the other events as possible without appearing ill-mannered. The precious alone time he had, he spent in his room, away from any danger of running into her. Of course, there was the ball to contend with. Why do such parties always end with a ball as the culminating entertainment? Balls had never been his idea of pleasurable pastime, but he had always prevailed upon himself to endure them. As he dressed he made a resolution to avoid her in the ballroom as he had all week outside of it.

Roston was the first person he spotted upon entering the grand room. He immediately began talking his ear off about his latest project. Despite his best efforts, Lucius could not pay any attention to his old friend; his eyes constantly roamed the room in hopes of seeing her. Other young witches had already arrived and mingled with a group of young wizards; a burst of loud laughter occasionally sounding from them and echoing around the vast space.

Just when he was about to ask Roston a question, he spotted her. And all of his earlier resolutions were instantly forgotten.

Hermione was wearing a simple gown of yellow that so enticingly hugged all of her curves and elegantly flowed down her body. The neckline was deep, but not immodest. Unlike other ladies, she wasn't wearing any jewels, but never had he seen a woman sparkle more. She was with Potter and his wife, the Weasley girl, and when one of them said something, she tilted her head back and let out a light-hearted laugh. It was the happiest, most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"Oh, go on. Go to her." Roston chuckled beside him.

"Oh, stop it, Sebastian." Lucius grimaced.

"You've been out of sorts all week. Whatever that Skeeter woman wrote is just idle gossip, and everyone with a good head on their shoulders knows that; she's obviously very sorry for it now. Last I heard the Ministry's come down on her pretty hard for failing to register for over thirty years. Not to mention your lawsuit against the publication caused them to fire her. You should enjoy yourself now. It's the last night, after all." Roston gave him a knowing smile.

"That's not it and I'm not taking anymore of your advice. You're an expert on many things, Sebastian, but not on women," Lucius frostily said, taking his eyes off Hermione to give his companion a disdainful look.

"I beg to differ, old chap. All lovers' quarrels are a result of men not giving women what they want or expect. With a woman, all one has to do is figure out what she wants and then offer it to her. Simple. Whatever your current state is, you must not have offered her what she wants."

"And what if I can't offer her what she wants?" Lucius challenged him.

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't. Not just to her, to anybody. I've recently turned forty-eight, all what women her age want or expect is behind me."

Roston chuckled again. Lucius was starting to get weary of his friend having a laugh at his expense. "Forty-eight, eh? You make yourself sound so old and decrepit. Your son is grown, you're a widower; you have no obligations to anyone but to yourself. Who's to say it's all behind? Why are you letting insignificant things dictate your life? Don't be like me. I was there once; I let it slip away. Where would you rather be five years from now: at another house party with me or living a life with her? Not everyone gets a second chance to do things right, Lucius. You'd be a fool to waste it." He tilted his head toward Hermione. "Go on now. Go to her, you obviously want to, and I don't want to stand here all night talking to the back of your head while you leer at her."

He patted Lucius on the arm and walked away. Lucius turned back to look at her again. Her back was facing him now. Taking one last sip of champagne in his glass, he purposefully strode across the room toward her.

* * *

Hermione had always enjoyed dancing, but not always enjoyed balls. During her marriage, Ron never wanted to take her dancing, and if she danced with other partners, he'd always sulk and throw accusations at her afterwards. She smiled when she saw Noelle and Oscar dance past her. Although they weren't at all ostentatious in their affection for each other, it was very obvious that they were happy and well suited together. She hoped that happiness would last for them. For herself, marriage had been more of a trial than happiness. Ron's insecurity and possessiveness plagued their marriage almost from the start. She feared that she had fallen out of love with him long before it came to its permanent end, when his accusations had become more hurtful and more insulting. Worse than that, she still resented his lack of trust, the same lack of trust that she resented now in Molly, and the same that Lucius seemed to exhibit by bringing up that awful arrangement.

Tonight, she resolved not to think of all that and to enjoy herself. In fact, she felt free to enjoy herself for the first time at this party. Molly had left early in the week and wouldn't be around to accost her and Lavender departed in shame the same day that the jinx had activated. She could have a good time tonight and tomorrow go home. She looked forward to that the most. There had been terrible tension between her and Lucius. He went out of his way to avoid her all week. Nevertheless, all the time in the ballroom, every single moment, she was very much aware of him. It was impossible to ignore someone looking so immaculate and severe in black evening jacket and white waistcoat. He spent most of the evening talking to Mr. Roston, looking as though he despised every moment of the last evening at a house party which appeared to have brought him only regret. She turned away from Lucius so she could relax and avoid the temptation of looking at him. After tomorrow she would not have to think about him ever again or look at his cold, arrogant face. She would not be constantly reminded that he had made her a very distasteful proposal and that for one flitting, shameful moment she had been disappointed that it was not a marriage proposal.

The very thought of being married to him…

Her thoughts were interrupted when Hermione felt a touch on her arm and turned to find herself gazing into the silver gray eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

"Miss Granger," he said, "would you like to dance?"

He had taken her entirely by surprise. She thought about refusing, but her mouth wouldn't form the words. His sheer proximity made her heart thunder in her rib cage but, all objections aside from his insulting offer, he was still an impossibly gorgeous man. Besides, it would be her last encounter with him.

"Yes…thank you…I'd love to," she forced out, hoping she didn't gawk at him for too long.

Lucius offered her his hand and she allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. He took her right hand in his left and set his other around her waist. As she placed her free hand on his shoulder, Hermione couldn't help but glance up into his eyes again. He looked back directly into hers.

"I thought," she casually began, "you would ignore me tonight."

"Did you?" he asked in his haughty drawl.

"Isn't that what you have been doing all this week?"

A glint of something indefinable flickered in his eyes. "I thought you preferred not to be in my company after our last conversation."

She couldn't respond to that. His hands on her body burned through the thin fabric of her dress. He was holding her at a proper distance, but it suddenly felt too intimate…his body heat sipped into her and the scent of his cologne was making her oddly heady. She was practically panting with need and yet they hadn't even moved yet.

And then they had. It was as if she had never danced before. He moved with firm, graceful steps, turning her in tune to the slow song. The sensations threatened to overwhelm her with sensual overload. The twinkling lights, the romantic music, his body heat, the musk and patchouli scent wafting down from him, the touch of his hands, her own body's reaction to him – it was all pure heaven.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at him. He gazed back at her, and in the flickering of candlelights from the chandeliers, his cool eyes appeared to glow with warmth.

He leaned down to whisper into her ear. "I may have tried to ignore you, but it was futile; I was all too aware of you. Day and night."

She didn't know what to say. They continued to dance and turned in silence as the music curled about them. Hermione followed his lead, relaxed in his arms and let the magic of the moment wash over her.

He drew her a little closer and his mouth descended to her ear again, "You look incredible tonight."

She ducked her head and blushed. "Thank you, but flattery's not going to get you anywhere with me."

"It's not flattery, it's the truth."

Lucius moved their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her hand. Hermione found herself stepping even closer to him, resting her cheek against his chest, enjoying the luxurious fabric of his dinner jacket. Her soft, feminine body pressed against his and her thighs touched his own as they continued to move in perfect harmony. In this position, he felt the distinct stir of sexual arousal. She must have felt it too because, although the music didn't stop, somehow their dance did. They stood very still and then she lifted her head up to look at him. His hands came up to frame her face between them, his fingers delicately tracing her eyebrows and cheeks before stopping to outline her lips. Involuntarily, she puckered them to kiss his fingertips. He withdrew from her, searing her with his eyes.

"Hermione," his words ghosted down to her so softly she thought she must have imagined them, "spend the night with me. Just one last time."

He knew she could break this moment with just one word, and part of him wanted her to; he didn't understand what possessed him to blurt it out.

Her lids slightly drooped as Hermione continued to regard him with a dreamy gaze before nodding her consent. He clasped her hand in his and moved to escort her through the French doors out of the ballroom. The music and sounds of voices and laughter continued unabated as they left the celebrations and proceeded to go out toward the lake.

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**One last night together, possibly a bad idea?**


	13. Chapter 13

**I have to admit I was a bit nervous including this scene as those two take their sexual relationship to a new level. So just as a warning, they'll be doing some things they haven't done before, which may not be for everyone, but it's important for the progression of their feelings. Still, it's quite heavy on the erotic content. I don't know if it's too much for some, so any thoughts on that would be most helpful and appreciated, especially for future reference. Thank you all again for sticking with this. I've been unable to update some other stories, as I've been away, but I will in the very near future :)**

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Hermione deliberately kept rational thoughts at bay the entire walk to the lake. It was their last night together; normality can resume tomorrow. There was an undeniable attraction between them and tonight was the only night left to explore it before they went their separate ways. She was under no illusion about what their exploration would involve; it held no promises and no arrogant offers – it would be their way of saying goodbye. He held her hand in his the entire way to the gazebo. His grip was strong and hard. There was no tenderness or romance in his touch. She didn't want it to be there; it would be too confusing. Hermione had become confused by his intentions before and naively let her fantasies and dreams lead her to false conclusions. Her agreement to this defied logic and understanding, so she forced herself to focus only on his hand grasping hers. He didn't say anything. There was no need to make conversation. They walked the entire way in silence. The full moon reflected in the bright band of light across the soft rippling waves of the lake. It would have been so romantic under any other circumstances. But there was no pretense between them: he said he wanted her to spend the night with him and she agreed, so here they were – saying farewell to the tumultuous fortnight.

Just like a week ago, he Apparated them to his London residence. Lucius didn't immediately release her hand from his hold. She trembled beneath his touch, but her eyes fluttered closed as Lucius' thumb brushed her bottom lip. Hermione held the blond man's gaze as her breathing became a bit more labored, and Lucius' eyes closed a bit. She couldn't help but notice how perfectly long and feathered his pale eyelashes looked. As it had been for the past two weeks, she felt the heat between them gradually build and brought her free hand up to cup his cheek. Lucius shuddered and took a sharp intake of breath at the unexpected touch and, without hesitating, leaned down to lock his lips with hers in a fevered kiss. Their other hands parted company and her arms went to wrap themselves around his neck as his firmly enveloped her waist. His tongue quested into her mouth and clashed with hers. They explored each other as if for the first time, memorizing every detail. A powerful stab of sexual longing went straight to her groin as she melted in his embrace, needing the support of his arms about her to prevent her from falling. One of his hands moved lower to squeeze her bottom, pressing her hard into him and left her in no doubt of his needs.

Abruptly, he pulled back from her and Hermione's body protested at his actions.

"Before this goes any further, I need to make something clear to you," he hoarsely announced. She earnestly nodded and he continued, "Tonight you will belong to me completely in every way. In every way. Do you understand?"

She hesitated. "I think so. But Lucius, I have already told you that my marriage wasn't very…sexual, and you're the only man I've been with since, so I'm not very experienced…" Hermione averted her eyes. His hand came up to lift her chin up to force her to look at him.

His eyes danced with merriment. "That is no great impediment to me. In fact, I'm rather honored to be the one to introduce many new things to you." He brushed her hair over her shoulder, his hand lingering to twirl one of her strands around his finger. "Now…where were we?"

He lifted her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the part of the house she hadn't seen last time. The double doors swung open before them and soon she found herself gently set down on the bed. With a wave of his wand, candles were lit all around them. He stood before her, powerful and majestic even as he proceeded with the most ordinary task of undressing. Sitting up on the bed, she moved to unzip her dress.

"Stop that! I get to do this!"

Hermione was shocked to discover that hearing him speak in such authoritarian tone only heightened her desire for him and she obediently lowered her hands away from the zipper. He walked up to the bed and she turned her back to him in order to give him better access, but he made no move to undress her. Her heart hammered away in her chest at the uncertainty of the situation. What was he going to do?

Then his hands came up to her shoulders and he hooked his thumbs inside the silk straps of her gown to pull them down. Moving her hair to the side he trailed a hot path of kisses from her throat to her bare shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent.

"I wanted you since that very first night, do you remember it?" His breath ragged against her ear. "We were sitting so far away from each other, but I saw only you. Only you, love."

"Oh, Lucius," she sighed. "I wanted you so much. It frightened me."

He moved to nuzzle the other side of her neck. "Did it…do I? Do I frighten you?"

Her body quivered under his mouth. "Occasionally."

"I don't want you to be afraid of me." His arms came about her waist and he held her to him.

"I'm not," she said, leaning back against his bare chest. "What I meant was that the way you make me feel frightens me. One look, one touch from you and I'm lost to all sense and reason. I've never felt that way before."

He deeply inhaled against her neck. "Good, you won't forget then."

"I could never forget you!" Her voice strained with emotion.

One of his hands traveled down her back, down the length of her zipper. "I'm going to make sure that you don't. Tomorrow, with every single step, you'll feel me inside you. Know that."

Lucius unzipped her dress and lowered the bodice, cupping her breasts, enjoying the pert prominence of her nipples against his palms. He held them in his hands, memorizing the feeling, the texture, the smooth delicate skin. Would this really be the last time he'll get to touch her like this? It didn't seem fair. Their bodies cried out for each other; her flesh pushing against his, craving his touch. His lips attacked her neck and shoulder with his tongue and teeth. Hermione cried out as he hit a particularly sensitive spot, and with a wicked smile he concentrated his efforts there, licking and sucking harshly at her skin as she shivered against him. One of his hands moved to her front and fumbled with the chiffon folds of her gown before sliding his hand along the thin fabric of her knickers.

"You're so wet," he practically growled into her ear.

Unsure of what to say, Hermione merely nodded. His middle finger lightly traced figure eights over her clit as he resumed his ravishment of her neck. Her hand moved back to glide against his muscled thigh, dragging her nails up and down on it. He groaned and harshly bit down on her neck, tugging at the flesh. She gasped at the pain, knowing that he must have left a large love bite. His bite relaxed and he resumed his kisses and licks on it. His mouth and attentions to her clit were rapidly sending her to the edge.

"Lucius…" she breathed out his name.

Unexpectedly, he pulled back from her and pushed her down on the bed, flipping her over to lie on her back. His hands roamed into her dress and tugged off the soaked scrap of fabric, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Hermione's breathing became shallower with anticipation when she saw him kneel down in front of her parted legs. She hiked up her dress more, not caring how wrinkled the fabric would get as it bunched up around her hips, and revealed herself fully to his hungry gaze.

Holding her open with both hands, he ran his tongue up along her and then circled her clit.

"Ah!" she cried out as her pelvis strained forward.

Lucius began lapping at her with long swipes of his tongue and she found herself wantonly bucking her hips in rhythm with him. Rolling his tongue in wide circles, he alternated pumping it in and out of her clenching hole with rapid flutters over her clit. He gripped her inner thighs harder to keep himself from reaching down and drenching his own fist with his come. As he sucked her erect nub, a low, keening sound began to radiate from her and she clutched the bedsheets at her sides for dear life.

"Now, my darling, _now_!" Lucius hoarsely commanded and resumed his torment of her clit.

Hermione shrieked as her body stiffened and then jerked spasmodically. Lucius' muted sounds of approval joined her cries as he greedily consumed her juices. She shouted his name over and over as she thrashed around on the bed. She was shaking when it was done, but he was still sucking her gently, as if bringing her back down to earth. He stood up, but made no further move to enter her.

"Turn over. Get on your hands and knees," he demanded and Hermione did as she was told. Without a warning, he slammed into her from behind, gripping both of her hips in his hands and pulling her roughly back against his aching shaft.

"Oh, Lucius!" Hermione moaned, having never felt anything like it. He felt even bigger inside her and hit her in places she didn't even know anyone could reach.

His rhythmic, merciless thrusts were met by moans and cries of the woman beneath him. He maintained his pace, but subdued his own needs, focusing only on making her come again to overwhelm her with pleasure. She would be his after this; he would make her forget all of her objections and denials, and then she would be his. Hermione couldn't think, couldn't cry out anymore; all she could do was clutch at the sheets and pant with anticipation. She could only focus on the sensations he dragged forth from her, oblivious to all other senses.

"I-I'm a-about t-to c-come…" she slurred, barely able to make her brain and mouth function together.

"Not yet. Don't let go until I tell you!" he barked, and she bit her lip and moaned, trying to hold back her natural instinct. It was so enticing to hear him demand things of her.

One of his hands moved up her back to grip her hair, pulling her head back as he angled his hips down to hit her spot over and over again. She felt amazing as he took what he wanted, and gave back as much as he took. She never thought sex could be like this. His groans became louder and she knew he was getting close.

"Please…" she moaned, not knowing if she could hold back any longer.

"Do it!" he commanded, his voice harsh with pent up desire and almost instantly she clenched around him, her body shaking with the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced. Hermione could feel him still pounding into her as she moaned his name. She didn't think she could take anymore, but was vaguely aware that he didn't come yet. Through the haze of her post-orgasmic bliss, she heard him summon something. Lucius had his hands on the lowest part of her back now, just above the pelvic girdle. Hermione could feel him moving into position between her still-spread legs and wondered when he'll continue again, even though she was sore and tired she wanted him to enjoy himself as well.

But Lucius' fingers were spreading the cheeks of her bottom open, stroking with an irresistible delicacy at that tight entrance where no one has ever touched her before. It dawned on her what he meant when he had said that she'll belong to him in every way. She had never been curious about anal sex before, but she wanted to give herself this way to Lucius; she wanted to give him something she hadn't given to anyone else. She heard him mutter a cleansing spell and then she felt it: Lucius' tongue pressed against her. She whimpered and her face was on fire as that tongue slid between her parted cheeks to lick at the crease, tease that hypersensitive skin as Hermione grasped at the sheets again, sucking in her breath as her entrance was probed open so very deftly. Her entire body yielding to the expert caress, and Hermione arched her back, her shoulders lifting, her hips pushing harder against the surface of the bed as Lucius penetrated her with his tongue, slowly, making her want to scream and squirm and push herself back against that wet, insinuating organ. Then something firmer was pushing just inside her puckered hole, eased by the wetness of Lucius' saliva, equally skillful in its movements as it dilated her open, yet moving no deeper yet. She shuddered as she felt Lucius add something cold and gel-like to the fingers that were already entering her partway, moistening them even more before burying them deep inside in one motion. Hermione keened. The sensation was uncomfortable and strange.

"Shh, love," he whispered against her ear. "Relax."

"But it'll hurt. I've never done this before," she protested.

He placed light kisses along her shoulder and the back of her neck. "I won't hurt you. I promise to make it painless. Do you trust me, love?"

"Yes, Lucius, I do." She turned her head to face him, searing him with her bright gaze. "I trust you completely."

His lips curved into a wicked little smirk and he kissed Hermione hard, plundering her mouth. She was quite breathless by the time Lucius pulled away again, gasping for breath as he licked along her sweaty jaw to her ear. He pressed his lips to one of the love bites he left on her neck and began to suck at it strongly, slowly grinding his erection against her opening.

He pulled his lips off Hermione's skin with a pop a moment later and then whispered into her ear, his lips brushing sensitive skin, "I promise to make it good for you."

She felt a second finger alongside the first, stretching the sphincter gently, accustoming her to the strange sensation and, after he added more of that gel-like lubricant, a third finger joined them. This was a slightly painful, stretching sensation but bearable. Then his slick member pressed against her, pushing into her, stretching her and she tensed against the intrusion.

Lucius' hand stroked her belly. "Push back against me. Relax around me and push back."

Hermione tried to obey and the burning lessened a little, so she cautiously bore down against the pressure of Lucius' cock and he pushed a little further in, panting harshly against the back of her neck. Deeper and harder, she had never felt so dominated or filled before. Lucius was claiming her, forcing into her with a series of slow thrusts. She must have relaxed even more because he sank fully inside her and began to move in earnest. Hermione closed her eyes and surrendered herself completely to him and this strange sensation. He plunged in and out of her in regular rhythm now, knowing he wouldn't last long in her tightness, especially after their previous activities. After a few more deep thrusts, he was undone. He grasped her hips with violent need and spasmed. He held her up while he growled against her ear, emptying himself inside her in the most profound release he'd ever felt. She felt him erupting in hot shoots and quivered under him. Completely spent, he collapsed on top of her.

"Mine," he murmured against her shoulder and opened his mouth against the skin and nipped it, sucking and biting lightly. "Mine. Say it."

"I'm yours, Lucius," she sighed, closing her eyes against fresh tears.

They both slumped against the bed, exhausted from the release of emotions as well as sexual frustration. Lucius moved the covers around their bodies and both of them were asleep within moments.

Hermione woke up feeling a warm, naked body pressed tightly against her; it was so comforting that she could have easily stayed in such position all day. She squirmed against him and he moaned in his sleep, pulling her even closer. She couldn't help but smile. Never would Hermione have imagined being in a position like this with Lucius Malfoy but it was delightful. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was just past eleven. She was relieved that there was still time to make it back to the ball for the official engagement announcement. Still she couldn't help feeling upset. After giving herself so completely to him, how was she supposed to just walk away and get on with her life as though it had never happened? She should have known that once their night together was over and she was alone with her thoughts again that logic would niggle its way in. Then, of course, there was a matter of all the things he had said. Did he mean them or did he just blurt them out in the heat of the moment?

She felt his lips kiss her just below her ear. "Hmm, I like waking up next to you," he said, draping his leg over hers.

"As do I, but we can't lounge around in bed. We have to get back by midnight."

His arm around her tightened. "We'll get back on time, don't worry."

He raised her up and pulled her into his lap, moving her legs to straddle him and slowly maneuvered her to sink onto his erection. His arms held her tightly to him as she began to rock on him. Her own hands went around his neck and buried themselves in his matted hair, enjoying the feel of his strong strands between her fingers. He leaned in to kiss her, softly and sweetly, as he continued to push into her pulsing heat, his lips raining kisses on her lips and along her jaw, never leaving her skin for long. He increased his pace and brought one of his hands down to rub at the knot of flesh between her legs. Hermione's hands came down to clutch at his shoulders as her orgasm washed over her in light waves. He soon followed her, releasing himself hard and fast into her before falling back against the mattress, pulling her down with him. They lay silently, trying to catch their breaths.

"Hermione," he began, his voice missing its habitual hauteur, "I hope you will change your mind about us. I know you have turned down my previous offer, but I sincerely hope you will consider—"

"No!" she cut him off mid-sentence, not wanting to hear anymore. She didn't want to hear him say it again. "I told you before that I have no interest in being your whore. What just happened between us was not a beginning of my acquiescence, but rather an end – an end to this party and an end to us. We'll get back to our lives tomorrow and forget each other."

"Ah, will we really? After everything we've shared tonight, can it really be so easy?" he faintly asked.

"We only developed this attraction because we don't fit in with any other set of guests. Under different circumstances…under usual circumstances, we would have never come together and you know it. Whatever this attraction was, let's not pretend it's some grand romance. We have acted on it and satisfied it, and now we can go our separate ways without making a farce of it. You don't have to pretend it means more than it really does." Even as she spoke, Hermione knew she sounded ridiculously defensive.

She got up, feeling slightly disoriented and very sore, and attempted to rearrange her dress back to its previous condition. It was heavily wrinkled and damp from her sweat; she hoped her Anti-Wrinkle Charm restored it to its original state, although it didn't quite feel like it. Throwing a glance at him, she saw that he was also getting dressed. He had his face turned to the side so that she could see him in profile: so aristocratic and austerely handsome. Hermione suddenly remembered how he looked that very first afternoon of the party and how she sensed the danger he posed. She had not been entirely wrong in that assessment.

He looked at her once he finished dressing. "What if…," he paused, clearing his throat. "Hermione, you will let me know if there are…if there are any consequences from this night?"

Her knees nearly gave out from under her. "I've been taking a monthly contraception potion since I was eighteen."

"Oh, well, I assumed as much."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, why bother about it ahead of time? Just let the woman do all the worrying while you keep assuming."

There was a rather lengthy silence, which she wanted to break but didn't know what to say, not to him at least. She now wished she had asked for a few minutes to consider his offer when he asked her to spend this night together. Hermione had deceived herself into thinking this would be easy and knew, without a doubt, that the next few weeks were going to be absolutely wretched as she tried to forget this man. As usual, it was too late and there was nothing to be done about it now.

He walked up to her. "There is nothing I can say then that will persuade you to change your mind?"

"Nothing," she said with strong defiance in her voice.

She took his arm and they Apparated back to the lake. She stepped away from him and clasped her arms behind her back as he turned to her. He took the hint and led the way back to the ballroom without offering her his arm. Hermione couldn't help but wonder at how strange it was that two people could share the deepest of intimacies and then, just a while later, eschew the slightest touch from each other. Hermione knew that it would be impossible for her to spend the last night under the same roof as him. She was supposed to leave for Grimmauld Place tomorrow; she usually house sat for Harry and Ginny until the term started while Ginny was away at pre-season training in Wales and Harry away on his Auror assignments. The plan was the same for this year as well, despite Ginny's pregnancy. Her friend had been unusually reticent about her condition these past few days and Hermione wondered if Harry knew yet. Perhaps Ginny would tell him after pre-season training when they had a bit more alone time. All in all, it would be best to leave tonight.

Instead of continuing to the ballroom, Lucius paused and turned to her. She saw him look rather sheepish as he transfigured his handkerchief into a evening scarf to match her dress and handed it to her. Carefully arranging it around her neck, which felt tender and sore, she hurried onward, but he stopped her again, taking a hold of her hand.

"You will owl to me at my manor in Wiltshire if there are any consequences," he said. "I'm not the sort of man who abandons his responsibilities."

Hermione shivered before briskly nodding and hurried off without another word. She'd pack her bag, say her goodbyes, and Apparate to Grimmauld Place. No matter how much her body protested now, she will eventually face the fact that Lucius Malfoy was not for her, and with good reason. Although what that reason is she couldn't quite recall.

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"There you are, Mr. Malfoy!" Lucius inwardly groaned when Claire Lutte swept into view the minute he returned to the ballroom. He had to admit she was a pretty witch, very much like his first wife in her frosty beauty, but all those charms paled in comparison to the quality of his lover.

"I hope you saved a dance for me, Mr. Malfoy," she said, angling her body in what he assumed she thought was a seductive pose but was sadly mistaken.

He politely agreed to escort her to the dance floor, even though all he wanted to do was get lost in a glass of firewhisky. She moved her body against his, pressing so close that he could smell her overpowering perfume.

"It's a pity this party has to end. We hardly got to know each other and we could have had such a good time together," she whispered into his ear, rubbing her body provocatively against his.

"Miss Lutte, I can assure you if I was to ever indulge in good times, you would be the first witch I would call upon." Her eyes lit up and she moved her mouth close to his, but he stalled it with his fingertips over her lips. "However, I am simply not in the mood tonight."

"What are you in the mood for, Mr. Malfoy? Whatever it is, I'm sure I can provide it." She licked her lips and without warning flung herself into his arms and pressed her lips to his. She tasted like vodka and champagne, and was obviously drunk as she didn't notice he wasn't responding to her.

He gripped her wrists tightly and firmly pushed her away. She whimpered, from fright or pain he wasn't sure, but didn't care. He hated forward witches and was disgusted with their tactics.

Glaring down at her, he coldly said, "Miss Lutte, next time you get it into your head to seduce me, make sure you use more refined tactics," he coldly informed her before marching off, not noticing the numerous flashing cameras that greedily captured the moment on the floor.

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Grabbing a glass of firewhisky, Lucius stormed out of the ballroom and found himself in the dark solitude of the library, reflecting on his time with Hermione.

There was nothing in his experience to prepare him for what had happened between them tonight. He wondered what would have happened in his bed if she had allowed him to finish what he had begun to say. She had assumed that the offer he was about to make was the same one as the one he had made in her bedroom a week ago. How wrong she was in her assumptions! He was glad she had stopped him, at any rate. He had allowed her interruption to steer him away from the course he had decided upon with very little consideration.

He did not want a wife. He was married before and produced an heir, what need did he have to be married again? Moreover, he did not want a wife whom he had barely known for two weeks and who was not his social equal. Being his wife would come with enormous responsibilities, which she clearly had no interest or desire in fulfilling since she was so young and interested in her own career and professional pursuits. Of course, there was a matter of her lineage. No Malfoy had ever married a Muggle-born witch and he did not want to be the first to break that tradition. Although he came awfully close. Was he really about to overthrow everything he had ever believed in for a summer's passion that he still couldn't begin to understand? Besides, it would have been disastrous if he had finished his marriage proposal. Knowing Hermione Granger, she would have scornfully turned him down. Whatever he was, he still had his pride and he was not so out of his mind as to risk a rejection from an upstart Muggle-born witch. And so he allowed himself to be interrupted and misunderstood, and held his peace.

Now he felt that perhaps he had missed out on one of the few chances life offered him to step off the old familiar routine and to discover if there was any joy beyond it. Life was going to feel very dull and bleak for a while without glimpses of her to look forward to. But then again, his life was already dull. In reality, there was nothing in it beyond his regular routine. Absolutely nothing. Walking out through the courtyard, he strode back toward the lake, determined to Apparate back to his house and not be tempted into knocking on her door and asking her one question that still burned on his lips. He had to face the facts: Hermione Granger was not the witch for him.

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**If anyone's interested, you can check out a prequel to this story that's in progress, _Secret Indulgence. _It takes place in Lucius' last year at Hogwarts when another bright Gryffindor witch catches his eye ;-)**


	14. Chapter 14

**As always, I don't own any of the characters and canon situations.**

**Thank you all again for all of your thoughts and critiques. They really mean a lot to me :-)**

**Happy Friday!**

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Lucius Apparated to Wiltshire the very next morning. It was his ancestral home. It was where he belonged. And it was where he had to endure the heavy emptiness and silence that defined the last few years of his life. Not that he minded it; in fact, for the whole first week back, he reveled in it. It was highly satisfying to know that there would be no people behind every door as he wandered from room to room. More importantly, there was no one to suggest a picnic or wine tasting, and certainly no one to surprise him in the library. However, despite enjoying his solitude, he felt too restless to relax.

He spent his days looking over the estate books and business documents, and read all the reports from estate managers on his other properties. He also wrote to Draco to partially explain to him the situation regarding that distasteful article and photograph in _Witch Weekly_, but had received no response, angry or otherwise.

Still restlessness weighed heavily on him. Lucius began to think that the rest of the summer would prove to be just as tedious. Trying to distract himself, he read a great deal. Well, he sat in his library with a book on his lap a great deal, while he blankly stared at the pages, lost in thought.

There were scores of witches in his acquaintance, and undoubtedly many more, who would eagerly accept his offer of being his mistress. It wasn't a conceited thought, but a factual one. Despite the disgrace and loss of influence with the Ministry after the war, he still had some powerful friends and was an enormously wealthy wizard. Everyone had known that he was overly indulgent with his wife and son, and was very generous with those he favored. If he had chosen any one of those witches and set her up as his mistress, he would receive nothing but undying gratitude.

Anyone, but the only one he wanted.

She had rejected his first offer and had rejected him again when he had attempted to offer matrimony.

Some rejection was good for the soul, he supposed. No one could have everything at once. Life would be so dull if every whim was easily achieved.

But it wasn't good for him. He felt bruised by her rejection, utterly crushed and…broken hearted, as though…Is this what it feels like?

A week had passed and then another, and he began to feel even more lethargic and restless.

Even lonely.

He didn't want to think about Hermione Granger. She certainly wasn't thinking about him. She was probably laughing at him with the Potters. Still, if he was honest with himself, he often pictured her bright eyes and kind smile, imagined running his hands through those wild waves as he held her close. Nights were the worst. He'd replayed their last night together over and over, feeling his cock harden at the mere remembrance of her body, the way it felt with his every touch, and how he longed to touch her again. This unfulfilled desire led him to an occasional sole pleasure, a pastime he rarely indulged in the past with her name swirling in his mouth as he cried out with every release.

A loud bang shook him out of his thoughts and soon his son's angry voice followed. Draco must have gotten his owl and came to deliver his setdown in person.

"FATHER! WHERE ARE YOU? I NEED TO TALK TO YOU! NOW! IT'S IMPORTANT!"

"For Merlin's sake! What are you raving about now?" Lucius practically shouted, opening the door of his private library.

"This," he held up the _Daily Prophet_, "is what I'm raving about!"

Lucius looked over the gossip page with a photograph of the betrothed couple standing in front of the elegant facade of Ashford Park with another photograph taken at the ball.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "So?"

"Did you miss the part where you're making a fool of yourself, of our whole family?"

Lucius looked closely at the second photo and saw in the corner of the picture the Lutte girl shamelessly throwing herself into his arms to plant that repulsive kiss, if that was indeed what one would call it.

"Oh, Draco, how was I to know that chit would fling herself at me like a cheap whore? Believe me, I was as disgusted as you are."

"You're the one who taught me about the importance of family name and appearances. And yet you go off to some house party and act like a hormonal teenager. First Granger, then that French interloper! Do you know what it's like to have everyone I work with snicker at my father and his 'turbulent love life'?" His son sneered as he quoted the phrase in the article. "I, unlike you, have to work hard to restore our family's honor and name. You obviously don't care and go running around with witches half your age, making a complete laughingstock of our family! Mother hasn't even been gone a year and you're already fucking whores, besmirching her memory! And Granger's not even attractive."

Lucius felt anger stirring at his son's vulgar language. "You will mind your tongue and refrain from calling her a whore in the future, do you understand?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're acting as though you're serious about her. You've been acquitted, so I don't see why you need her unless you're thinking of going back to the Ministry. Do you think they'll suddenly make you Minister of Magic once you've got yourself a famous Mudblood wife?"

"I don't need political reasons to marry whom I choose. And if I choose her, who are you to lecture me on my choice?" His eyes dangerously darkened as he spoke a warning to his son, "Remember, Draco, your inheritance is not guaranteed. You can choose to cut me out of your life or my grandson's life, but I can just as easily choose to cut you out of my will. And where would you be then, I wonder?"

Draco blanched at his words. "D-do you mean to m-marry her then?"

"I thought about it, but I have no definite plans as of yet."

A mirthless laugh escaped from Draco. "I get it! You're bluffing. You'd never marry someone like her. Good one, father! You almost had me there."

He gave Draco a menacing glare. "And who are you to tell me what I would and would not do? I am beholden to no one! My choice of future bride when I marry will be no business of yours! Now get out!"

"But father—"

"Keep in mind that when I want to see someone, I make an appointment; I don't remember making one with you. Now do as I say and get out! I will not repeat myself again in my own home."

Draco obediently left and Lucius was once again alone in the silence of his house. As he took a gulp of firewhisky, he mulled over the conversation with his son. How dare he lecture him? He was his father and that position demanded respect at all times. Nobody forbids him from having anything, or anyone. And if that anyone is Hermione Granger, then so be it.

Lucius walked around the empty house once again. The silence and the solitude that he was so grateful for when he first arrived now left him discomposed. He wanted to see her in these rooms, to have her laughter fill them and hear her voice resound off the walls as she called for him. He thought he was dead like the oak the Muggle Prince saw in _War and Peace_, but then she resurrected him and, like the sun, set even the darkest corners of his life on fire with her light. He thought his best days were over, behind him, but she made him want to live again.

With one last look around, he left the house and Disapparated, fully resolved to finish what he was prevented from last time.

* * *

It was the hottest day of the year and it wasn't abating even though it was almost evening. The oppressive, late summer's heat was too distracting, contributing to her fatigue and general dissatisfaction as her thoughts turned to her time at Ashford, which felt as it happened a lifetime ago. Her life had once again resumed its usual placid course and she was happy for it. Well, not happy per se, but content. Those two weeks left her restless and a bit dissatisfied with her life. She felt guilty for this feeling. She had chosen a quiet life after her high-profile career with the Ministry; she enjoyed teaching at Hogwarts and there was always something to do. Lucius Malfoy would remain firmly in the past now. She tried not to think of him too much. It was quite simple enough in the day when she had other things to keep her busy, but at night…it was too painful to pretend; however, she refused to dwell on the pain but, for some reason, today it was significantly harder to do so.

There was a tap on the window. A large brown owl delivered a thick packet of documents to her with a Way Forward crest on the seal. Way Forward was the organization that Hermione had applied to on Mr. Roston's recommendation while she stayed at Ashford. She didn't expect to hear from them so soon and excitedly opened the documents. Since she had sent her application, Hermione didn't dare to hope, but now as she read the documents over and over, her hopes came true: she had gotten the job. She was to start on October 1st of that year, which would give her just enough time to alert Headmistress and tie up loose ends. Hermione was also pleasantly surprised that her living arrangements would be taken care of. Her new residence in Petersburg was on the most prominent avenues of the city, at Nevsky 72, #25. It was almost too good to be true and she was so happy that her lethargy was instantly lifted and, grabbing her quill, she hastily set about writing to Ginny and Harry, which was followed shortly by a missive to Headmistress McGonagall and a thank you note to Mr. Roston. She would have to owl them out in the morning, but just putting it all in writing made the prospect even more real.

As she quickly began to think of all the things she'd need to do before leaving, Hermione couldn't help but be eternally grateful for a new challenge, a new purpose. Petersburg was a exactly what she needed – a new place to begin a new life where no one knew her either as a brilliant witch or as Ron's widow. A new start – it was just the thing.

It was already dark when the doorbell rang and she heard Kreacher talking to someone as he let them in. The house elf popped in to inform her that she had a guest. Hermione thanked him and came down, eager to greet whoever it was, thinking it was probably Luna since she had a habit of dropping by unannounced and never remembered that Ginny was away this time of year.

Walking into the sitting room, Hermione almost fainted away at the sight before her. The guest in question was none other than Lucius Malfoy. His hair was tied back with a velvet black ribbon, looking effortlessly elegant and immaculate despite the scorching heat all day, absolutely unaffected by it. Perhaps he's never affected by silly things like weather, she thought.

Suddenly, her earlier happiness evaporated as the summary of all she had to leave behind loomed in front of her. This might as well be the last time she is in such close proximity to him for the rest of the year, or most likely much longer.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, aware that she sounded incredibly rude, but couldn't bother with manners at the shock of seeing him in Grimmauld Place.

"I came to speak to you," he said in his refined tone. Then smirking, he held up a silky pair of knickers. "And to return these to its rightful owner."

She snatched them away, furiously blushing. "How did you know I was here?"

"I have my ways," he said with a mysterious smile playing on his lips.

"Very well. What did you want to talk to me about?"

Hermione found herself holding her breath as she awaited his response, silently begging every deity within earshot not to let him repeat his previous offer.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," he plainly said.

"As you can see, I am fine. Do you always show such solicitude to the women you sleep with?"

He was going to ask her again, she just knew it. She was really irritated now. Why did he insist on doing this? Had she not made it clear how she viewed his offer? Was he just blinded by his self-importance and arrogance to fully realize that he can't have everything that catches his fancy?

Then she noticed him fiddle with something and, unless she was quite mistaken, look suddenly very nervous.

"Hermione," he began with his usual haughty drawl, "I was wondering if you will do me a great honor of becoming my wife."

She gawked in the most undignified manner, not sure if she heard him correctly. The heat obviously had a negative impact on her hearing.

"What?" she managed to ask.

He took a deep breath before speaking, as though preparing a speech, "I know this sort of choice shouldn't be emotionally driven, but I find myself unable to stop thinking about you. If I can't have you as my mistress, then I want you as my wife. There is no law that states I can't marry a Muggle-born witch or that my wife must be my social equal. Even if you prove to be barren, it poses no prohibitive impediment to our union. I already have an heir and he has a son of his own. I choose to have you as my wife and I hope you will accept my offer."

Hermione was completely speechless. She sank onto the sofa as her head swam with thoughts. She could be Mrs. Malfoy, she thought. Mrs. Lucius Malfoy! The unaffected widower, who pointedly scoffed at the idea of marriage few weeks ago at Ashford Park, was in her sitting room offering her just that. But as his other words sank in, cold reality was restored in her mind.

She didn't know if she was more upset or angry, but her hands shook with emotion as she finally responded, "I'm honored, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

He blinked, looking surprised and perplexed by her response.

"I see I have offended you when I offered you something less than that at Ashford," he said.

"Yes," she agreed.

"And you were equally offended when you thought I was making you the same offer during our last night together."

She froze in shock and confusion. Was he serious? Was he really going to ask her to marry him that night? He had to be lying. Men didn't propose marriage after a bout of sex, no matter how amazing it was. He had to be lying, manipulating her into accepting his proposal. But why?

"Yes, I was," she said again upon finding her voice.

A cold look of disdain crossed his features. "And a sincere apology will not be enough for you to forgive me? You're rejecting my marriage proposal because you can't forgive the other offer? I do apologize, but as I've said numerous times, I didn't mean to insult you in any way by proposing that arrangement."

Nodding, Hermione agreed, "I know you don't see it that way and I can understand why. Many would have thought it to be a very flattering offer. I know some witches at the party would have jumped at the chance. I could do one of them a great favor. I could agree to marry you and leave the position of a mistress vacant for someone else."

His wolf-like eyes pierced hers. "I believe in fidelity within marriage, Hermione, no matter what you may have heard about me. I do not need a harem to be satisfied."

Her knees began to shake and she was glad she had enough wits about her to take a seat earlier. She remained silent, not knowing what to say. It would be so easy to say 'yes'. Until she received the owl about her new job, her life had been boring her and sometimes she felt as though her old girlish dreams had died with her marriage. Most days she felt so much older than her actual years, and yet she was refusing a chance to lead an exciting, passionate life with him. Once the shock wore off, his proposal left her cold. It was the most selfish thing she had ever heard! Even Ron's proposal had more heart in it!

_If I can't have you as my mistress, then I want you as my wife. _

His words were practically ingrained into her brain as she mulled over them. She had denied him what he had wanted and so he was trying another tactic. It was about him getting what he wants. He didn't want to marry her, not really. He as much as admitted that he was only proposing marriage because she had spurned his other offer. This proposal was simply a means to an end for him, not a heartfelt desire!

He came to stand closer before her. "Please, don't refuse me in order to punish me. I remember your words that night. Or did you not mean them? Whatever is in my power to give you, it's yours, all you have to do is ask."

The fact that she was seriously tempted angered Hermione even more. "Really? Everything? How about just one thing? How about a husband who doesn't constantly remind me of my blood status? A husband who never viewed me as inferior and has never been bothered by my Muggle heritage? Someone for whom those things don't even matter. Someone who offers me a heart instead of galleons. Someone who wants to marry me because it is what his heart tells him is right, not because I have refused all his other offers. Someone who actually has a heart! Can you offer me any of it? Anything at all?" She knew she shouldn't have said the line about a heart, but the phrase was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

A painful look flashed in his eyes before they hardened. "Ah, I see," he said very quietly. "You're right, Miss Granger, I cannot offer you everything, not even one thing on that list of yours. I'm sorry for intruding on you like this. Perhaps I should have accepted Miss Lutte's offer at a dalliance and not bothered you with any of this."

"Yes, perhaps you should have. You will be glad to know that I'm leaving the country soon and won't be causing any unpleasantries for you on the dalliance front!" With that she fled from the room.

Shortly after, she heard Kreacher show Lucius out.

He was gone now, but her own cruel words to him haunted her, _Someone who actually has a heart!_

Hermione stayed in her room and wept until her eyes were red and swollen; she wept until her tears dried up and she could weep no more.

His phrase also resounded in her head, _You're right, Miss Granger, I cannot offer you everything, not even one thing on that list of yours. _

There was an odd look in his eyes before he spoke those words. A look that told her she had gone too far in her own wounded sensibilities. A look that had broken her heart. She had maliciously hurt him and she hated herself for it. And she almost hated him for making her feel this way. Almost.


End file.

Harry Potter, Hurt-Comfort, Romance