AN This is my first attempt at a Harry Potter fic and if anyone knows me, they know how I ended up here. After a tamer teaser, there will hopefully be smut, lots of gratuitous, spank-tastic smut, so be warned! There will also be little to no plot.
Thanks for reading, your reviews and feedback are most welcome and very much appreciated.
I own nothing but a filthy mind. (Insert customary apology to JI here).
You stopped just outside the heavy, ornate office door, running your fingertips over the Malfoy crest embellished into the ancient wood that felt a thousand years old. Clenching your fist, it hovered millimetres from the door, as you built yourself up to knock and announce your presence.
"Enter," boomed the voice from behind, startling you. He couldn't possibly have heard you, in fact you had gone out of your way to charm your heels beforehand so they hadn't clacked against the cold marble floor when approached as stealthily as you could. Deep down, you knew long before you arrived for your interview, you would need at least a moment to compose yourself.
Clearing your throat, you took a moment to steel yourself, smooth down your skirt and try to pat down any stray or out of place hair. It was still a mystery to you how you had managed to secure an interview at all. Putting it down to a triumph of spirited enthusiasm over qualifications and experience and perhaps a foot in the door by virtue of having the right sort of lineage, you puffed out your chest and got ready to make the best impression you could.
Hoping you at least looked the part, you considered your outfit. Taking advice from anyone and everyone, you had selected a high-waisted black pencil skirt that sat just below the knee and a plain white shirt, tucked in and done up enough to avoid any flesh on display that may mark you as common. The desired look was traditional, but not too traditional. The horror story of a young woman who had turned up for an interview in full robes only to be sent away teary-eyed as 'a dishevelled bat flapping around the office' was identified as reason enough not to employ her had served as a warning to you, though that was little consolation to that poor girl. Conservative, but not too conservative was another less than helpful suggestion and you could only hope the length of your skirt was enough to make you appear demure and sophisticated enough, while the split to the back avoided plain and dowdy. Deciding bare legs were too common, you had opted for stockings. Your prospective employer would be oblivious, but at least they gave you a scrap of confidence and when paired with large stiletto heels, they forced you to stand up a little straighter. The words of one of your friendly advisors not to slouch still rung in your ears.
The awful thought your choice of colour and the immaculate bun piled up on top of your head might make you look like a muggle school girl flashed through your mind. It was too late now; the slick of dark red lipstick and flick of black eyeliner may at least save you from that.
Your hand shook a little as you turned the handle and entered. Unable to force yourself to make eye contact you quickly absorbed the details of the room. Luxurious mahogany shelves filled with heavy, dusty accounting books lined the walls, along with the paintings of five generations of Malfoy patriarchs glowering down at you. A grand fireplace of pale marble adorned the chimney breast and a vast leather-topped desk dominated the centre of the room. It was the occupant of the grandiose wing-backed chair behind it that was the most intimidating feature of the room. As a child, you thought your own father's office was lavish, it looked positively impoverished when compared to the opulent surroundings you found yourself in. Although you could feel his eyes boring in to you, you hardly dared to look up.
Lucius Malfoy flicked through papers in front of him that you recognised as your own application. There was an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the ticking of an ostentatious, ormolu carriage clock on the fireplace. You remained silent. Even if you had wanted to say something, you doubted you could force any words out at the moment.
You had seen him in person at one or two events, always from a distance. If he had ever acknowledged your existence it had been brief and in passing. Fleeting memories of his immaculate hair, not one out of place and his stern demeanour were borne out by the man in front of you. He was dressed in black, just as you expected, his cane propped at the side of his desk, close at hand.
"Take a seat," he commanded, his voice monotone and his face expressionless as he waved his hand and a chair slid back to bid you sit on the opposite side of the desk. Your thumping heartbeat that had a steady rhythm with the clock was now beating faster and reverberating in your ears. Each time he paused from his reading for a second, you considered speaking and each time you thought better of it. The eyes of the paintings continued to silently appraise you.
Finally, he raised his head slowly and spoke.
"From a pureblood family of decent standing, I see."
"Thank you, Sir," hoarsely escaped from your lips.
Lucius starred at you blankly.
"Educated at Beauxbatons. Was there a reason your parents opted not to send you to Hogwarts?"
Unsure if it was an accusation or a question, you gulped slightly and ran your tongue unconsciously across your lips, your mouth drying at the prospect of an unpleasant and unsuccessful interview. Deciding honest was the best the policy, you did your best to find your voice and answer as honestly as possible.
"Although perhaps not as highly regarded as Hogwarts in some respects, my father, who was a Slytherin himself," it felt like name dropping and grovelling, by needs must you thought to yourself. "Regarded Beauxbaton's as an exceptional finishing school for a young witch hoping to mix well in society."
His brow furrowed. This wasn't going well. You tried again.
"He also felt it advantageous for a daughter to avoid the influence of…" you trailed off as his eyes narrowed.
"Of?" he snapped. Squirming in your chair, you grasped for words.
"Of young wizards, Sir."
His expression softened as much as you imagined it ever would. He looked pensive for a moment.
"I think it an understandable, if not an admirable ambition for a father to hope his daughter matures whilst remaining… virtuous."
It had never occurred to you before, but the undoubtedly terrifying Lucius Malfoy was also inescapably attractive. Even as you shuffled nervously, your fingers digging in to the underside of your seat, you found yourself watching the way the word virtuous hung on his cruel, but undeniably kissable lips. You were transfixed as they curled slowly into a wicked smile, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.
"I may have done the same thing, had I not produced a son."
The image of Lucius Malfoy engaged in any activity that may result in 'producing' heirs may have filled you with dread an hour ago. Now you found yourself nipping your tongue between your teeth to prevent yourself from smirking at the image of him naked in wild abandon. This was neither the time nor the place to be developing a crush on a powerful wizard who may or may not be considering employing you.
Rumour had it he was a gifted legilimens, judging by the look on his face and the ideas in your head, that may well have been true. Conscious of the inappropriateness of your own thoughts, you lifted your gaze, only to be met with piercing and disarming blue eyes boring deeply into your soul from the other side of the desk, forcing a sharp intake of breath.
"I wonder," he said wickedly, "do I make you nervous?"
"A little, Sir, I'd be lying if I said otherwise."
Lucius Malfoy was very much aware he made you nervous, deceit was a pointless and counter-productive exercise. Besides, he seemed to rather enjoy your response and gave an amused grunt.
"Good," he said sharply. "What do you imagine qualifies you to act as my personal assistant?"
This, you had at least prepared for.
"I like to think myself capable of thinking for myself, as well as following instructions with care and precision. My education has afforded me a good knowledge of social occasion and propriety. I am hard-working and incredibly loyal. I'm a fast-learner and consider myself organised and…"
Lucius looked bored. It broke your train of thought.
"But inefficient," Lucius said curtly.
You looked puzzled.
"Your application was hand delivered. It would have been far less time consuming to send it by owl. Are you not, inefficient?"
"I believe I am not at all inefficient."
Your indignant response made his eyebrow shoot up.
"As a personal assistant, the emphasis is on the personal touch. An owl is an impersonal and everyday response. Going above and beyond the ordinary is the job of a good assistant, whether it to be to win over a difficult client, or to meet the needs of their employer."
"And you believe you can, meet my needs?"
"Yes. I believe I can. I would not have wasted your valuable time with my application if I didn't."
Your nerves had dissipated a little. Though you had little experience, you were not accustomed to being taken for an idiot, even by a man as powerful and handsome as Lucius Malfoy. Handsome. You cursed yourself for even thinking that.
"Excellent. Then I shall eagerly await your best efforts. I will arrange your contract immediately and expect you to start on Monday. Be prepared, young lady. I expect you to arrive early and be prepared to work late. Your parentage, though desirable, does not grant you a free pass. I expect you to work hard."
It took a moment to absorb the fact he had just offered you the job. When it sunk in, you were overtaken by a surge of surprise and excitement.
"Oh, I don't know what to say, thank you so much. I didn't really expect to be successful, I mean I hoped, but…I promise I am a fast learner and I will work extremely hard, really, I will. Thank you so much for this opportunity Mr. Malfoy."
His face was stony again.
"You will quickly find there is little requirement for that sort of…exuberance in this office. As an aside, I rather dislike Mr. Malfoy. It sounds frightfully…muggle. Sir, will suffice."
"Yes, Sir I understand and…"
He silenced you with a look.
"Well, I see you are learning quickly. That will be all for today. You can see yourself out." He gestured towards the door that opened itself on command.
"Thank you," you said, scurrying towards the door, dying to get out of the room and do something, though you were unsure if that was punching the air, skipping down the hallway or just breathing out in relief.
As you reached the impending safety of the door, his voice called you to pause.
"One more thing, Miss. I trust you can be…discreet."
"Of course, Sir, discretion is my middle name."
He snorted.
"An unfortunate choice on the part of your parents."
Silently kicking yourself for saying something so trite and cliched you were glad he couldn't see you squeeze your eyes tightly shut and bite your lip, mortified at your own ridiculous choice of words. Lucius Malfoy was the type of man to rescind an offer on a whim, using a muggle expression at his door was possibly unforgiveable. You dared yourself to glance back over your shoulder. His attention had returned to the pile of papers on his desk. Thinking it better to say nothing else you hurried out into the corridor.
This was the most terrifying, surreal and unconventional job interview you could possibly have imagined. At least it was over now. The worrying part was coming on Monday morning. It dawned on you that you had better get used to being in the presence of Lucius Malfoy, it was now going to be your day job.
