Author's Note: So it's definitely 3:30 in the morning and I wrote this in one sitting. I was just really frustrated that I hadn't written anything in a while and this is what came out of it. This is my first venture into writing Hermione/Lucius romantically, so hopefully all goes well!

Thanks for reading, and as always, please review!

I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form.

Hermione Granger never really understood why she somehow wanted everything in her life to be dangerous, or awful, or miserable, or anything other than good. Maybe it was because she had spent a good chunk of it trying to stay alive and defeat (in her humble opinion) the most evil creature to walk upon this earth. When said creature was legitimately defeated, things slowly went back to normal and she didn't know what to do, exactly. She knew to finish her schooling, gain as much N.E.W.T.s as possible (all of them), and join the workforce. She did just that.

But her job (in a cubicle in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures) became so monotonous, so unbelievably mind-numbing, that she finally realized she was now a normal person. In primary school she was constantly bullied for her unmanageable hair and large front teeth, at Hogwarts it was for her brains and an abundance of determination to succeed. Then Voldemort decided to start a damn war and she was about as close to being in the middle of it than anyone (except for Harry, of course). She almost died countless times.

She has wished to die in her cubicle countless of times. Where was Voldemort when you needed him?

Ron had been living with her for the past few months. It wasn't anything exclusive, really, unless you talked with Molly. Then they were on the verge of getting engaged. Ronald had this uncanny ability to bring back slutty women from the bars that he and his mates visited on a weekly basis, and continue to fuck their brains out while Hermione sat in their living room finishing up a project for work, making no effort to cast a silencing charm. The next morning he would realize what he had done, kick the slut out, and apologize and promise that he would stop doing this so they could become an item.

This has been going on for eleven months now. She let him grovel at her feet every single time, because it was amusing, but she had no intention of ever, ever marrying that stupid, ginger git of a best friend.

One day, this all changed.

It was the beginning of the work day, and Hermione had pushed her way into an already packed lift. She felt her backside bump into what was most assuredly tall and broad and male, and thought nothing of it. Then she had this peculiar feeling that this tall, broad, and most assuredly male person had been smelling her. Being a paranoid person (having your best friend pursued by Voldemort for seven very long years can do that to you), she stiffened and didn't even want to look behind her. She heard him chuckle and she practically sprinted out of the lift when it had reached her floor.

It was only until later, when she was stripping her clothes off before hopping into the shower, that she saw the piece of parchment fall out of the back pocket of her slacks. She picked it up, and nearly gasped when she had seen what was written on it.

Your hair smells luscious. Mango, correct?

LM

Lucius fucking Malfoy. He was married (as far as she knew) and she (to the outside world) was dating Ron Weasley. Who was he to start, well, this? Hermione groaned.

This could actually get interesting, she mused.

It didn't take long for them to start fucking anywhere they could possibly fit. In cramped filing rooms, the ladies' restroom, hidden corners in the Department of Mysteries, even fitting in a quickie among the numerous shelves of Flourish & Blotts after he had followed her there one weekend afternoon. She had no feelings for this man, she probably hated him, but he was honest to God the best lover she had ever had (there were only four, but still, he beat them by a long shot). The way he made her come was like nothing she had ever felt before, and there was no way she was going to let him go in the near future.

After around four months of fooling around, he persuaded her to apparate with him to a place he wouldn't tell her about, and when she arrived, fainting was definitely on the menu. When she awoke, she brushed it off as having a bad trip, and he seemed to believe her. They were at his home, Malfoy Manor, a place she hadn't set foot in in nearly four years. When he led her inside, she quietly applauded his decision to shut the doors into the parlor where her worst memory lived. She really didn't feel like fainting again.

She had made it clear to him that this, whatever it was, was nothing. She had no desire to be with him for the long haul. He was just a fling and that finally having sex in his home was not moving up. They just had to worry less about getting caught.

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when they had tired of each other. They both laid naked on the bed, his bed that he shared with his wife. Lucius had his head resting below her breast, lightly dragging his fingers across the (nearly) flat plane of her abdomen. Hermione took a drag from her first cigarette of the evening, letting her free hand comb through her lover's hair.

"This needs to stop," he said, planting a light kiss on her ribcage.

Hermione took another long, deep drag. "I know," she said, before slowly releasing the smoke from her lungs.