"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Granger, I beg your pardon most humbly, but we seem to have overbooked today. My fault, I assure you, ma'am, but is there any way that I might seat someone with you?" The Maître d' looked so upset and so nervous that Hermione never doubted him for a moment. He babbled on about how her meal would be on the house, of course, and he was so sorry and please, please would she not hold this shocking mistake against the establishment. Hermione blinked.
"Please, stop," she said quietly but firmly and he, thankfully, did. She frowned at the Maître d' for a moment, imagining what sort of fawning toad she have to sit with, and then gave a tiny sigh. "Yes, fine, I would be willing to share my table."
"Oh, Miss Granger, you are too kind, too generous, again I beg your pardon for this mistake," the Maître d' babbled some more and bowed several times. Hermione felt a tremendously painful throbbing begin to form behind her left eye.
"Miss Granger." The cool, clipped tones had Hermione looking up in surprise, her eyes widening in shock.
"Mr. Malfoy," she said managed to say politely.
Lucius Malfoy bowed deeply to her and then sat across from her. She eyed him suspiciously. Had he…no, surely not. After all, why on earth would he bribe the Maître d' of one of the most respected restaurants in Wizarding London just to sit with her? Lucius Malfoy could have his pick of morally stunted witches when and if he wanted or needed, er, physical release. He certainly didn't need to resort to such lengths. No, she was reading far too many trashy romance novels, and she needed to stop immediately. She tried to glance around the restaurant surreptitiously and realized that it really was extremely crowded. Yes, it was crowded and the restaurant had overbooked. Her strange fantasies were just that, and nothing more.
"I apologize for intruding upon your lunch," he said quietly, his grey eyes on her face. She glanced up at him again and saw a hint of embarrassment. He felt he was an interloper, she realized. She shook her head.
"No," she replied, "it is much better to have lunch with someone, rather than alone."
"Even if that someone is…what was it you called me again? Ah, yes, a lily-white aristocratic pillock who wouldn't know hard work if it kicked him the arse," He asked curiously, one white blond brow quirked sardonically.
"At least I can be assured that your conversation would be interesting and intelligent," Hermione said tartly and then her cheeks turned pink. "I beg your pardon; I should not have said that, it wasn't well done of me."
"Are you apologizing for complimenting my conversational skills?" Lucius asked in surprise, startled confusion in his grey eyes. Hermione bit her lip.
If Lucius Malfoy didn't know all about her recent spectacular break-up with Ronald Weasley, she was a Holyhead Harpy. It had been all over the Daily Prophet. Hermione pursed her lips momentarily and examined the man in front of her and reevaluated him. She rather doubted that he had anything to do with the Daily Prophet, now that she thought on it. The headlines were most likely not of interest to him, or even rather embarrassing. Therefore his confusion was real and not some sort of studied pose. She sighed internally.
"No, Mr. Malfoy, I was not," Hermione said finally. She scrabbled about helplessly, trying to find something to discuss with Lucius Malfoy that wasn't a hot button topic for either of them. She came up topic-less. "So, um, it's been unseasonably warm this year, hasn't it?"
He stared at her for a moment and then she could have sworn that his lips twitched slightly.
"Yes, it has," Lucius observed calmly. "Do you suppose that will affect this year's murtlap crop?"
"Oh, er, I do hope not. Dreadfully useful stuff," Hermione said lamely. She thanked every deity possible that at that particular moment their waiter hurried over. Each of them gave their respective orders, and Hermione would have sworn that there was the merest hint of approval and appreciation in Lucius Malfoy's eyes at her order.
"You speak French," he stated mildly. She shrugged.
"I do," she agreed. He looked at her for another moment or two, and she would have sworn that the look of approval was there again.
"Have you visited France?" He asked curiously. She took a sip of her wine and gave him a small nod.
"Yes," she replied. There it was again. His lips definitely twitched. She considered him for a moment. "Have you?"
"Yes," he said solemnly, daring her to say something.
"Did you find it pleasant?" Hermione asked politely. He shifted slightly in his seat, and took a sip of his wine.
"I have, upon occasion, found France to be pleasant, yes," he said at last. Hermione debated with herself for several minutes and then finally decided to move into murkier waters.
"I was sorry to hear about Mrs. Malfoy," she said sincerely. The difference was immediate and Hermione wondered if she had erred by choosing to say something. Lucius had stiffened and his face had grown cold and forbidding. He watched her with eyes that turned icy and she fought against shivering in her seat.
"It was unexpected," he said in a voice that could have frozen the Thames. Hermione gave a small nod.
"It is never expected," she said with a dry bitterness that made Lucius examine her closely. Whatever he saw made the grey ice of his eyes soften enough so that they merely appeared to be steely.
"Just so," he said quietly.
"Please pass along my condolences to Draco," Hermione said softly. The ice was back with a vengeance and Hermione blinked in surprise. Draco was a touchy subject for Lucius? When had that happened? She bit her lip and leaned toward Lucius, daring to put a hand on his arm. He stared at her hand for a moment and then gave her a glare fit to sizzle her scalp. "You know, sometimes stress makes people react…poorly."
"Miss Granger," Lucius began in a voice that was so glacial Hermione was honestly surprised not to see little icicles breaking off of each syllable. She held up a hand.
"I understand, Mr. Malfoy," she replied quietly. "I overstepped my bounds, I beg your pardon."
At that moment she was rescued, yet again, by their waiter. Silently, he deftly placed their meals in front of them and he waited patiently until Lucius Malfoy gave him a tiny nod. Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes with a monumental effort. Despite everything, Lucius Malfoy exuded power and charisma as easily as most men breathed. She had seen the phenomena too many times to count: whenever people came within his sphere of influence they automatically looked to him for approval. Hermione did not, of course, but she had seen others do so without even thinking about it.
"I appreciate your kindness," he said at last, quietly.
She looked up in surprise and noticed that he was watching her carefully. She gave him a small nod, and then turned her attention to her meal. Bouillabaisse was too rare a treat to waste her time worrying about Lucius Malfoy's mood. She scooped up just a bit of the broth on her spoon and took a hesitant taste. There was a genuine briny quality to the broth that could only be imparted by fresh, quality seafood. She took a larger spoonful with seafood and her tongue exploded with flavor. She made a small moan of pleasure and her eyes closed blissfully. It was almost like being in France. She opened her eyes to see Lucius staring at her, his fork halfway to his mouth. His eyes no longer looked glacial, she noted absently as color flooded her cheeks.
"I beg your pardon," she murmured. "Their bouillabaisse is extraordinary."
"One must assume so, since it gives you so much pleasure," he said in a voice that sounded notably deeper.
"Would you care for a taste?" Hermione asked him suddenly. He stared at her, his grey eyes lightening and turning to liquid silver.
"I believe that that might prove…interesting," he said in a voice that had become slightly strained. Then he blinked at her when she held her spoon out, one hand cupped under it just in case. Understanding dawned in his eyes and he opened his mouth obediently and she fed him a taste of her bouillabaisse. He chewed and swallowed carefully. "You are correct, it is quite good."
"This may sound awfully forward of me, but might I taste yours?" Hermione asked wistfully, eyeing his Poisson en papillote. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair.
"I—yes." His silver eyes were watching her carefully. He held out a small forkful and seemed fascinated when her lips closed around the small bite he had held out to her. His eyes never left her mouth and she started to wonder if perhaps his wife's recent death had unhinged him. He'd been acting a bit oddly almost the entire time they'd been having lunch together.
"Do you have any hobbies, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked politely. He pursed his lips slightly.
"Several," he said carefully. Her eyes narrowed. Surely they had moved passed that point.
"Name one," Hermione ordered him. He dabbed carefully at his lips with his napkin and then turned those liquid silver eyes on her. Suddenly she felt nervous, as though she were prey and he were the predator.
"Chess," he said mildly. Hermione tilted her head at him.
"I can see that," she said finally, and she could. Chess was all about strategy, anticipating your adversaries' moves and building contingency plans for dealing with the possible moves. Hermione would bet a galleon that when Lucius Malfoy played Chess, he used people. The amused look in his eyes told her that he knew exactly what she was thinking.
"Are you a Legilimens?" Hermione asked suddenly. He smirked at her—a full blown Malfoy smirk. Hmm. Draco apparently needed to work on his smirk a bit more.
"If I were, Miss Granger, you would already know," he drawled at last.
Dessert came and Hermione dug into her tarte aux fruits with relish. Lucius' eyes never left her face as she enjoyed the simple perfection of her favorite sweet treat. He sipped at his wine, but waved away the waiter when he tried to tempt the blond with various offerings. Dejected, the waiter slunk away, but Lucius didn't stop watching her.
"Well Mr. Malfoy, it certainly wasn't planned, but thank you for a charming lunch," Hermione said politely as she made to rise.
Quicker than she would have believed possible, Lucius was at her side moving her chair back and holding out a hand for her to rise. She looked up at him and saw the furtive glance he cast about the restaurant when she didn't immediately take his hand. She sighed internally and carefully placed her hand in his. His hand seemed to dwarf hers and made it seem tiny and dainty. She rose gracefully and murmured a thank you. Lucius didn't let go of her hand, however, he insisted on seeing her out of the restaurant, which confused Hermione. She was frowning at him as he guided her out of the restaurant, one hand at her elbow.
"You didn't need to see me out," she pointed out once they were in Diagon Alley. He frowned at her, confusion evident in the politely enquiring look on his face. She sighed out loud. "It wasn't as though you were really having lunch with me. They were overbooked and you got stuck with me."
"I see," he said slowly, his brow furrowing. He looked searchingly at her. "Is that what Mr. Potter would have done? Left some young lady sitting alone at her table?"
"I'm sure he wouldn't have, Harry is very polite," Hermione said automatically. Lucius just looked at her. Her cheeks turned pink. "Oh. Thank you again. For being pleasant company, I mean."
"Thank you, as well, Miss Granger. It was a fascinating afternoon and I have you to thank for it," he purred at her. Then he picked up her hand and brushed the back of it with his lips. The skin where his lips had touched tingled. She tugged her hand free and gave him a cheery smile.
"Well, I must be off," she said brightly.
She gave him a little wave and turned to head back to work. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her and she felt a tiny shiver go down her spine. This was definitely going down as one of the most unusual days of her life—post-war, of course. Lucius Malfoy might be something, but he couldn't quite compare with basilisks, werewolves under the influence of the full moon, dragons, giants, acromantulas or any number of other things that used to be a regular part of her life. She fought the urge to look back over her shoulder and almost triumphed. She turned down a little side street and peeked back around the corner. Lucius Malfoy was still watching her! He smirked at her and gave her a little bow before turning and making his way down the street. Hermione's cheeks flamed a thousand shades of red. She finally calmed herself down and then hurried back to work.