Reflections On A Summer's Night

by zxxyxxz

Lucius Malfoy's life is changed forever when he reflects on his life. Warnings:- Cigarette Use

Disclaimer Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling

He looked at all the other people talking and dancing around the large ballroom at the Minister's residence, he never understood the need for such functions but supposed it was here during the ball season that the coming year's back hand and under hand deals were made. There was a time when he would be there, when he would be collecting and currying favours that would be necessary for his political career but that was gone now. In fact as he sadly reminisced about events from a few short years passed he wondered if he really knew where his political career was really going or whether his whole life was wrapped up in the mercurial whims of others so much so that any aspirations stopped being his own and in the end the objective became non-existent and served only to prolong his own misery. Not that he saw it as misery back then, when you believe you are in control and have your freedom you never notice you are being backed into a corner, when busy you never notice the little things that are slowly growing and multiplying hell bent on destroying the freedom and the life you believe that you have and are entitled to. He brought the glass of wine to his lips and took a small sip allowing his eyes to once again glance around the guests and wonder what their reasons and motivations for being here were. He knew he was invited because he had money and links to others that while undesirable had the money to fund proposals. There was a time, it should still be his time to stand in this room and be there for his political career, and he was not that old he should be working up to department head and other senior positions of authority and political clout. But that was a different time and he could not help but feel that times had changed and he was left behind. The world was very different to that of ten years ago but never reverted back to what it was fifteen years ago. The balls still happened and those invited were there because they had money, connections or where likely candidates for future political power but the criteria had changed and the general mind-set had also changed. Some still had the old mind-set which was why they were only here for their cheque books, he liked to think he had the old mind-set not as radical as it was but he was a rather conservative gentleman at heart. The world was changing and he was too old to change with it.

He brought the glass to his lips again and realised he had drained what was there. He pondered on whether he should stay for a second drink; people had approached him for money and believed he would donate handsomely to any venture. Those days had passed he needed to no longer buy his good name and none of what they were proposing seemed like anything he wanted to attach his name to. It was all too radical for his tastes really, too much change and not enough sense. He was young before and pulled into a group that played on his sense of conservatism he was not making the same mistake again with change. His eyes scoped the room and fell briefly on an average looking brunette with rather bad hair looking like she wanted to be somewhere else. Political candidate against her will he pegged her as and moved on to something, anything else.

His eyes rested on his son, trying his charms on whatever girl would give him more than a passing glance. It was distasteful to see such school yard behaviour in the adult world. There was a time and place for such things, surely he was not alone or 'old' in thinking that such things should be kept in private? Or that a woman deserved more respect than the current crop of unusually chauvinistic young Wizards seemed willing to give. A Witch was not a Muggle. A Wizard may be physically imposing but magic removed that barrier, a Witch was just as powerful as any Wizard especially when combined with a scathing intellect. If this was the effect of distancing society from the old mind-set and embracing the in some ways more liberal attitudes of Muggles he was unsure if he wished to see it. Maybe he had grown tired of being a bully and a brute, maybe submissive Witches were the norm rather than the exception.

He couldn't quite bring himself to leave the event so soon, it would smack of bad taste and poorer manners and would rather hypocritical and against his vain attempts to uphold and continue what he saw as tradition and normality.

But that hasn't stopped you before.

Supplied the tiny voice in his brain. He likened the voice to his conscience his better self that was able to transcend the bleakness and cloudiness of his mundane and once cluttered life and see the truth while attempting to let him live the ideal. But such a concept was abstract and was hard to brood over when standing and making an effort to play nice, getting drunk here at the first of the summer balls would not paint his family in a good light and he had worked too hard and spent too much money to destroy the last residual specks of respect that he had. Draco worked too hard and of his own merit to have his short life ruined once again by the under thought actions of his own father. Though he supposed to be a Malfoy was to acknowledge that your life was slavery to your father's whims and he would eventual destroy your life.

He walked to bar, the bad hair Witch was there as well wearing periwinkle dress robes she ordered whiskey and ginger. Not an odd combination but seemed a little heavy and projected the wrong vision at such an event maybe that was what she wanted or maybe she was uneducated in the ways of how such evenings worked. Then he reminded himself that things were different now that business was conducted differently. He tried to raise his lips to care and ordered a fire whiskey; the news had already spread that he would be giving no donations or favours tonight. His political season had ended and unless he gave handsomely to a large flagship policy he was not playing next season.

He strode confidently to the terrace; it was still early so no one else was out there. He leaned heavily on the stone wall and looked out over the ornate gardens he placed his tumbler on the smooth level surface of the wall and fondly caressed the heavy silver lighter in his dress robe's pocket. He was going to give it to Draco ten years ago only for his son to turn around and ask why he needed a lighter when not only was he a Wizard but a non-smoker. Fashion was fickle and it transpired that even the longest lived fashion had to die someday. Maybe eventually smoking would be in vogue again and he could pass his heirloom onto his grandson or great grandson like his father did to him. There were few things that a Wizard had to pass down, wands were unique and useless trinkets just ended up being stored away but something practical and useable kept traditions and loyalties alive. It couldn't pin point when everything started to change, maybe it was when the Muggles changed. Seventy five per cent of the population had Muggle blood that was a lot of possible influence even if only twenty five per cent could be considered pure Muggles if it wasn't for the fact they could do magic.

He coughed and hit his chest to work the blockage out; it was time for a dose of lung cleaner. At that moment a giggling youngish couple headed onto the terrace no doubt looking for a moment of alone time but their looks faltered and they looked vaguely embarrassed that he had beaten them to the terrace. They left him alone as quickly as they came.

He lit a cigarette, one of ones he rolled himself and stored in a silver box, not his original box that had been a gift from Narcissa before she saw fit to leave him. He exhaled slowly another source of misery he had been blind to, how did they keep going for so long with nothing between them? He looked over his shoulder back into the noisy and crowded room that was the answer. Politics. It looked good for both of them to be seen together even when in the end they couldn't stand the sight of one another and it was only for Draco they stayed as long as they did. The new box was more ornate then the first and free of any sentimental engraving but when together he loved that simple silver box. He was halfway through the cigarette and half a lifetime away when he heard the doors open again and the uneven clicking of a woman walking in high heels she wasn't use to. He never turned to see who she was he felt no need to if he showed he didn't want her to be here then maybe she would leave. He exhaled and threw the butt to the garden below him, he never realised the woman leaned on the wall next to him.

"I am afraid I cannot offer my support."

He said plainly, his automatic line for the evening he had no interest in learning what cause he was turning down.

"Then it is fortuitous that it is not your support I seek."

The Witch replied casting a discrete or what would have been discrete if she was with anyone else air freshening charm.

"No one asked you to stand here. If the air is not to your liking there are other options available."

He said placing another cigarette between his lips and lighting up just staring at the view in front of him. Ignoring the Witch. He almost recognised the voice, a bit bossy but also tired. So very tired as if her life had ended and she was just letting herself drift into the infinite black bleakness that would be the end. As if her crowning glory was in years gone by, he risked a look at her she seemed about Draco's age and her hair was just as bad as earlier and her robes the same periwinkle blue and her drink looked to still be whiskey and ginger either that or pure whiskey.

"Maybe I want to stand here. Maybe this is the only spot that satisfies my terrace requirements."

She snapped back. He furrowed his brows and focused on smoking he thought that ignoring the woman would make her leave him to his well-deserved solitude. Instead she leaned on the wall and sighed heavily; he was unsure as to whether she wanted to make conversation or was engaging in a battle of wills to see who would vacate the terrace first. He watched her discretely under the guise of watching two birds flutter around a bush in the garden below. It occurred to him that although he assumed she didn't want to smoke it was bad manners not to offer her a cigarette, that thought in mind he snapped the case opened and pushed the open case into her line of vision.

"No thank you."

She replied politely her eyes never leaving the distance. He closed the case with a second snap and returned it to the depths of his black dress robes. He sighed and continued to smoke in silence he wished he knew who the woman was it would help him be rid of her sooner and avoid any unwanted and unwarranted attention.

"It's all just a game in there."

She said slowly an arm gesturing faintly into the ballroom behind them.

"I had such great ideas; I wanted things to change but not like this. Everything is just so different now and I never understood what was going on to begin with."

She continued taking a sip of her drink.

"Why are you telling me this?"

He said his voice sighing with a heavy sense of disinterest and tedium.

"Why not. You're the first person this evening who hasn't asked me for anything."

She shrugged her shoulders as she replied and took a second longer sip of drink. He was confused she had no real reason to be here and he disliked hearing the problems of others, he generally disliked others period. But she wasn't speaking to him not really he was just around a convenient excuse for her to talk to herself. Talking to herself would be as much of a political suicide as snubbing the Minister for Magic. Maybe she didn't care though wasn't that his first impression of her earlier this evening?

"You're here as a likely candidate for the future rather than a donor or canvasser."

He stated quickly unaware that the words left his mouth let alone that he was thinking them to begin with. As much as he wanted to be alone staring into the distance of a warm summer's night he had to admit that some conversation would not go a miss. Though he would rather it on the terrace at home with the white wicker furniture and a better choice of better mixed drinks.

"Correct."

She sighed again and cast another air freshening charm; he noticed she was not discrete this time. Though he supposed he caught her once why bother going to such extremes again when the result was not what she had anticipated. But why was she still here? Was she under some misguided delusion that he was an ideal candidate for a romantic or political liaison? It made no difference the answer was still no. But why was one so young with her life ahead of her and a sterling career heading to the upper echelons of the Ministry leaning depressively on the terrace wall and attempting a rather limited form of conversation with him. It made no rational sense but maybe she was not a rational person. Not everyone was.

"Then why are you out here with me?"

Again curiosity got the better of him before the other parts of his brain to stop his mouth in a vain attempt at damage limitation.

"Because I don't want to be in there."

She replied bluntly turning a little to face him. He shuddered mentally now he would have to hear all of the girls woes this what not how he wanted to spend his evening.

How did you want to spend it?

The voice inside his head asked.

He tried to come up with an answer but the reality was he didn't know how he wanted to spend this evening or the rest of his life he had never given life without the Ministry a thought and most certainly not life without a wife. Reading and getting quietly drunk perhaps? He reasoned as his answer. It was not a great answer and bordered on self-destruction instead of a life but what was the point of living life when your original purpose that you spent forever working towards was gone.

"I can gather that in fact any fool with half a brain could determine that. I want to know why."

He wasn't kind as he spoke but why should he be? She made the decision to talk and now they were engaged however reluctantly on his part in conversation he was determined to have answers to questions. He could still be very persuasive if the need arose.

"Because this wasn't my first choice of life. Because I never wanted this job I wanted to do something else something meaningful or to just slip away in the dark of night and never come back."

He was taken aback by her words. There was nothing he could say to that or nothing polite anyway, but why was the fool of chit still doing a job that she didn't want? Why accept the job? Did she not know how many people would kill to be in the position was in right now? Hell he. He killed for politics. Admittedly not his own politics and not for his own political aspirations but you could not in good conscience call it anything else he was a tricky, slippery bastard there would never be any escape from that fundamental part of him.

"Have you any idea how many people would kill to be in your shoes?"

He asked slowly shaking his head in disbelieve.

"Yes and I find that really rather sad."

As he stood frozen to the spot by her words she left. He looked around for her but she was gone, ratty hair had left and taken his whiskey. He reached out to the glass she left and curled his fingers around the cool glass and pulled it closer to him and lit another cigarette he really shouldn't smoke until he took a dose of lung cleaner but tonight was shaping up to be stranger than he thought it would be. He was left stood there questioning a woman he had not met before and then she left him alone on the terrace to think alone with only a whiskey and ginger for company. He let his eyes drift back to the distance and his mind feel fuzzy as he questioned once again what he was doing with his life and whether his quest for the ideal was really a waste of his life. He exhaled and enjoyed the sensation of the smoke coursing through his body, the way it tasted on his tongue. Had he truly wasted his life? Why would ratty hair cause him to question everything or was she just in proximity when he was exploring his dead spot again. He raised her glass to his lips; he tasted the faint remains of her lips on the cold glass and the burn of drink on his tongue. Was this what kissing her would be like? Why would that thought enter his mind? Why would he care two Knuts about kissing her? Was he that starved for attention that any interaction would lead him down over avenues? But she was right it was a great sadness to care so much for work when that was only a small part of life. Why did he ever care so much about who was controlling him and who he in turn was controlling in the end it made no difference? In the end he was so close to his destruction and everyone dies the same way. The only thing your line of work determined was your cause of death. More worryingly a single thought washed over him one he had been avoiding for nearly ten years now. He didn't want to be alone, he didn't want his life to be sitting in front of the fire smoking and getting drunk he was so jealous of Draco in many ways the career, the plotting opportunities the relationships. But ratty hair would never be anything over than ratty hair they would never meet again and he would feel the cold grasp of despair again unless he left now and tried to purge any thoughts inappropriate or otherwise about her from his mind. He placed her glass back on the wall. He bent other violently coughing and pounding his chest after spitting up on the floor mindful of avoiding his shoes he collected his cloak and left unaware that ratty hair was watching him from a secluded corner.

He stepped out of the fire place and walked to the side board pouring himself a generous whiskey he stopped the crystal decanter and carried the tumbler with him to his chair and sat staring at the embers in the fire a house elf just lit. Ratty hair kept wandering into his head why would he care so much about her? Was he having some form of mid-life crisis and it was some form of demented crush? He blanched at such a term and shook his head attempting to clear it of such nonsense. He wasn't frisky there was no reason unless he found her quiet company somewhat appealing that was it he found her company appealing because the calibre of society that surrounded him this evening was really rather poor which lead him to feel slightly confused and sorry for himself. It was sometime, plenty of whiskey and numerous cigarettes later that he noticed the flames turn green and Draco stepped out and threw himself down into an arm chair feet hanging over the arm.

"Draco feet."

He chastised as he wondered how his son learnt such bad practices it was probably in the school dorms he never behaved so inappropriately in company.

"Next week you will stay longer father, your early departure together with your little sojourn to the terrace was really bad for business and really you should of donated something."

He nodded not in the mood to care about Draco and his political problems.

"The vaults are not infinite Draco. There is nothing going on that is worth our money."

He snapped abandoning his drink and heading to bed, he walked the familiar path up the large sweeping stair case and into his large bedroom; he took in the familiar wall paper decorated with the ornate flowers and birds and the heavy dark furniture. Sighing at just how normal everything really was he pulled a black satin night shirt out of one drawer and laid it out on the bed. He kicked of his shoes and spelled them to their correct home and made short work of the buttons on the front of his robes and on the cuffs shrugging heavy fabric to the floor where an elf would later take it down to laundry. He pulled the soft shirt on and climbed into the large bed and lay staring at the canopy above him. He couldn't sleep not with his mind spinning on thoughts of everything and nothing. He was at peace with his past or he thought he was it still left him really rather confused by his evening out, he started smoking again flicking the ash into the fancy ash tray that sat on the bedside cabinet. It was easier than vanishing the ash away each time and charms kept him from setting the bed on fire he enjoyed his cigarettes even if he would be up coughing and wheezing half the night.

~8~

The next week was the second of the Ministry functions, again it was billed as a ball and again he went simply because he had nothing better to do, he failed for the rest of the week at removing ratty hair from his thoughts and he once again failed at what he wanted to do with his life. But one thing became clear the past week he mused as he stood leaning on the terrace again as the function continued behind him he was really rather keen on not being alone. Draco had become more serious in his relationships and with few in fact no close or even remote friends he felt the loneliness most acutely. It amazed on one level and scared him on another that he was pining for ratty hair; he enjoyed her conversation though that could be because there was very little conversation to agree or disagree with or maybe because he had taken note of ratty hair for far longer than he was willing to admit. Or he was a domesticated animal at a lost without a wife. The door to the terrace opened and ratty hair once again joined him on the terrace again carrying a whiskey and ginger.

"It would be politer to refuse such invitations rather than to avoid your hosts all evening."

He drawled taking another draw from his cigarette washing it down with a mouthful of mediocre wine. Ratty hair briefly squared her shoulders as if spoiling for a fight then relaxed and sipped her drink while gazing softly at the blooms below.

"I cannot refuse to come and that you well know."

He nodded and returned his attention to his wine and ignored his companion. This worked well until she chose to address him again.

"I am surprised you spoke to me, you made your...opinions on the matter well known last week even if you were polite to discrete about it."

Her words were accompanied by an air freshening charm he idly wondered why she bothered standing here with him if nothing was to her tastes. But her words hit home why was he speaking to her? Why was he feeling anything towards her she was nothing special and did nothing for him that others would not he if wanted company he could within reason be expected to find it. But it was not that kind of company he was looking for, yet did his past exclude such possibilities from his future? It was all true yet not for the motives that others thought and he had long learned that motives not actions were the key. Why was ratty hair so special? Did that mean he had to learn her name? Was he latching on to the first human being that treated him with something other than a father or cool contempt with passing respect for his vault? Loneliness was a strange beast.

"Perhaps you were merely in the right place at the right time."

He replied philosophically and drained the rest of his wine. She turned to look at him her body tensing as if there was something she wanted to say or do but felt it prudent to change course at the last minute. He plastered on a thin lipped smile though more for politeness than any real happiness he wondered what he looked like to her and snapped open his case using the moment to take in his reflection before lighting up. His normal mask of cold, stern formality was in place he looked as he normally did: blonde, haughty and as if everyone around him were merely dirt on the bottom of his shoes. And once he would think that having the right to look like this was the pinnacle of one's achievements for life. He inhaled and thought that really he looked more like a stock character in a farce then the embodiment of Wizarding perfection and that maybe instead of his skin having the attractive quality of pale marble that he looked worn and tired and was the instead the embodiment of over compensation.

"You're a curious man."

He threw the cigarette half smoked away into the bush below and thought on her words people normally used curious as a means of saying odd or unpleasant it made people feel better about themselves if although insulting you to your face it was a compliment you misinterpreted. But he was unpleasant, deeply so. But it wasn't his fault, very little was his fault. His father saving him from prosecution the first time round was an admission of guilt; if it was his own fault he would have been sent to Azkaban and as mad as Bellatrix.

"And you a curious Witch."

There was silence as nothing was said and he wished he still had wine to drink as he watched her from the corners of his eyes with quiet longing as she sipped her drink and was content to enjoy the fruits of the warm summer's evening. But he wanted to talk the last conversation he had with anyone was with Draco a week ago, the young lad being too busy to sit with his father. And the elves preformed their services in silence still terrified that the Dark Lord may return to their home for it was as much theirs as it was his at any moment. A thought he often agreed with in the depths of night after too much fine spirits and too little good thoughts. How could he start a conversation? Neither wanted to talk about the politics behind their invitation to the ball and neither was she being especially sociable. He watched as she drained the last drops of amber liquid and felt his collar tightening. Drink was the answer he would be a gentleman and fetch them both drinks he assumed judging by how they were still alone that she had no partner for the night so such a move could not be considered vulgar on his part and he could draw her into conversation without offending her sensibilities. The way the Witch carried herself lead him to believe that she was in no way or form delicate. So he left ratty hair and returned carrying two tumblers full of whiskey.

"Straight. It goes better with cigarettes."

He said as he pushed the tumbler across the wall towards her. Her features softened as she thanked him for the drink and he caught her watching as he lit another cigarette amidst coughing to clear his throat and chest.

"I think your cough is trying to tell you something."

She remarked, he tried to smile but the pain briefly shooting across his chest prevented him from doing so. He nodded in appreciation when she conjured two chairs from a wand hidden down her cleavage he did preen for being gentlemanly enough to look away as she retrieved and replaced her wand. It would not bode well for his evening to be caught ogling her chest though he would get some physical contact from doing so. Though a slap was not contact he was keen on receiving from anybody at any time. He had enough of that during that final awful year. He gingerly lowered himself into the white wicker chair she conjured he wondered why he never thought of this earlier.

"Yet what is life if it were devoid of all our selfish little indulgences."

He said truthful which while a foreign concept was not a new concept for him he just spent many years perfecting ways to avoid telling the truth or providing a better version of the truth that made all parties look in the if not better for them then better for you light. After getting settled in his chair with his whiskey and cigarettes first.

"There is no need for such a maudlin outlook, the war is over and life in many ways has never been better."

She said brightly nursing her own whiskey and observing him through half lidded eyes this confused him he was unsure as to whether she was tired, relaxed, pissed or trying to be polite and discrete. Her words had real meaning to them and something about the inflection in her voice told him that at one point despite outward appearances she did not quite believe her own rhetoric. There was a peaceful silence save for the lazy calls of birds in the bushes below the pair slowly sipped their drinks well aware of the event behind them but neither caring and the locking charm he placed on the doors prevented others from caring either.

"I believe it is my turn to repay you for my earlier drink Mr Malfoy."

It puzzled him as to why she used his name but the emphasis she placed on it was done purely for effect, maybe she had grown tired of him not recognising her and behaving accordingly or maybe she wanted to make conversation and ensure his prolonged attention in the matter.

"Is one drink enough to overcome a life time of prejudice Miss Granger?"

He asked. Pleasantly pleased by her noticeable recoiling as he drawled her name while smirking dangerously over his now empty glass as he raised it for her to return.

"Why don't you tell me?"

He bowed his head in respect for her retort and as she left her words were still ringing true within him. They had just shared a drink together and not in the bland way of a meaningless yet polite encounter, was an evening of kindness and politeness enough to challenge the concepts that each and especially him though he would never admit it outside the deepest reaches of his mind held? No it was not. Did it make him want to explore the possibility? Of course it did. He was infinitely curious and puzzled by this new world he found himself in and would go through great pains to attempt to figure out its machinations and his place with in it. However unattractive the final result would be. Yet what of Granger? Would she feel compelled to continue to see him as a Death Eater, father of her childhood nemesis? Or would she see a tired old man sulking on the terrace? He was not that old he was good for another hundred years really but he had quickly and harshly learnt that old was a concept you felt rather than were. He had little time to think further as she returned with two more tumblers of whiskey.

"Touché."

He said raising his glass in a toast to her retort, she managed a thin lipped smile and both took a sip of their drink. It was better than the whiskey they served him, maybe there was something to being a war hero after all regardless of whether one wanted to be at the ball or not.

"I am surprised you trusted me to supply you with a drink."

He said after debating with a tactful way to express his thoughts on whether their perceptions of each other to could ever shift or whether the mental gymnastics required would be too great for either to manage successfully.

"And yet you willingly accept a drink from me."

He found it mildly irking that she would answer a question with another question or a statement that had him being the one interrogated. He wondered if it was a skill she learnt from the war or one she picked up naturally along the way.

"I have very little to lose."

And that was the crux of the matter, for all his justifications and grandiose words the fact remained that he could take risks because there was no career, no wife and only Draco would be left to miss him though his death may make life easier for Draco in the long run, he can play the sympathy card and be free from any real connections to their family's troubled past.

"Sometimes we have to learn to let go and move on."

Her voice took on a somewhat dreamy quality that seemed out of place with her dress sense and the way she held herself. It was most certainly enchanting and almost put him at ease.

"Are you talking to yourself or me?"

He asked curious and at the same time relaxed by her rather open demeanour.

"Which would you prefer?"

Again a question why did she make him continually question everything and more importantly himself.

Because all you do these days is question.

His inner self reminded him, unable to face either Granger or his conscience he took a healthy gulp of whiskey and fiddled nervously with his lighter not in the mood to smoke anymore and unsure as to the feelings that were welling up inside of him, they were not new feelings or emotions just under used and their meanings lost in distant memories that were by now just faint shadows creeping and lurking in the furthest reaches of his mind. Hidden down paths he rather not tread again no matter how lovely the Witch before him was.

"I'm not sure."

He admitted still lost in his own thoughts in particular wrestling with the concept he found her lovely, he was not sure what her being lovely meant and it had been so long since he thought anything lovely but maybe that was Azkaban talking. But all Azkaban did was take, there was no talking just silent cries and whimpering in the cold dank corner of his cell with nothing but a thin mattress and thin robes for comfort. Did it mean he wished to taste those lips he had brief catches off while drinking the remains of her whiskey and ginger last week? Or did it mean he wanted to place her on some sort of pedestal and admire her from a far or as an anecdote to be remembered later and told to no one save himself?

"What would you do if I told you I wanted to kiss you?"

He asked his brain rapidly running out of ideas and decided that his mouth should shoulder the burden. He noticed her freeze and then observe him with an interesting look, it was not a look that he found easily identifiable and he was never one for judging a woman's emotions. The more he thought on his verbal slip the more it made sense that it was really the better solution to their current troubles as it would provide a concrete answer as to whether such prejudices and such war damage can be undone as easily as some would have you believe. It had the added of advantage of giving his brain permission to explore avenues he had earlier decided where unthinking and were to be nipped firmly in the bud. The air was still warm and the light breeze wafted the aroma of the blooms to the terrace, it served as a limited distraction to a greater issue that loomed over the two of them where the correct answer was rather difficult to decide. Did you stay true to what you believed no matter how hypocritical that would be or did he admit that it was easier for him to feel anything towards her? The knife of the answer was hanging above the heads of both and Granger again turned to sipping her whiskey to contemplate an answer. It did bode well for him or at least he thought it did that she had neither run, screamed or hexed him but the silence was just as terrifying and he was far too aware mainly from first-hand experience of just how powerful a weapon silence and brooding could me.

"I wondered why you allowed me to stay."

She mused he seemed that her words were more for her own benefit than for his but the way she looked at him made him rethink that position and realise that she did expect an answer though with what intentions in mind he did not know and was not able to compute. He was still questioning why he asked her such a question to begin with and the silence coupled with her sharp words had him think that this was not the best course of action and that thinking she was lovely might mean something else altogether for him.

"You still haven't answered my question."

He said desperate to try and claw back control though he would never dare reveal to her or anyone just how often he found himself flailing and at a lost in terms of control and indeed the aims of his plots and conversations.

"I know."

Her heavy voice carried a sense of regret but what about his proposition had she to regret there was no guarantee he would kiss it was all purely hypothetical though how she interpreted his words would be up to debate. Did she want to be kissed? He forgot how overwhelming such emotions and thoughts could be? Had it really been over ten years since he last considered relationships with anyone other than Draco? Was this why he had never met any of Draco's paramours? Was everyone still afraid of him or was he a man that no one wanted to interact with had he finally out lived his usefulness?

And then something remarkable happened.

"I would cast a breath freshening charm on you."

She said then exploded in a fit of laughter she was unable to hold in anymore and without any thought he laughed as well. Of all the responses she could give him and she chose that, but what did it mean? Was she teasing him, refusing him or saying yes to kissing him her reply had provided him with a new maze to plot his way through and he began to feel rather underequipped to take such a venture on.

"They told me." His ears pricked up as she continued to speak; maybe this would solve the riddle for him. "That people are not capable of change but that's not true, the evidence for that is all around us, if you didn't want to change you would never of let me laugh at your expense. But my question to you Mr Malfoy is do you want to kiss me?"

That was the real issue here, did he want to? No but yes he did she was lovely and he wanted nothing more than to press his lips against hers and feel her body against his but he wanted more than that. He didn't want to be alone anymore; he could never admit that, he could never let it be known that loneliness was the thing that scared him the most. His face was schooled perfectly soft and understanding while still being quintessentially him never betraying the sad turmoil that was inside. That bare faced honesty even to himself scared him.

"Yes."

That was all he needed to say as before she could formulate a reply he stood and moved so he was standing in front of her and gently pressed his lips against hers before returning to his seat leaving both of them breathless and confused. He sat back and took a final sip of whiskey and waited for his punishment, but none came. There was no shouting and no hexing Granger was sat in her seat with a small smile on her face.

"Where do we go from here?"

She asked quietly this confused him and he wondered whether he had done anything wrong or whether the spectre of his past was once again looming and that once again his past would be his downfall.

"I was rather hoping that you would tell me."

He drawled hands lighting a cigarette to keep themselves busy and maintain the image of cool collectiveness with a hint of something more that he wanted her to see, but he told her he had nothing to lose should he reveal his vulnerabilities and his fears in due time or keep them bottle up and pretend to be something he's not? That would give her political ammo against him but what would be the use Draco was the political star? No for the moment it would be best to keep a mask in place it was dangerous thinking to want to trust someone.

"I suppose the old adage is true."

She said by means of reply but what adage could she mean that you could have good sex with someone you did not like very much or that opposites attract? The best answer was a fully committed non-committal answer.

"I agree. But that helps us very little here."

He was right and judging by the look of realisation on her face she knew he was right as well. It was a rather decent feeling to be right.

"I think this is the part where you invite me to dinner."

She said once again breaking his train of thought, it was just as well but her words had the same ease as earlier that lead to him kissing her did he want to have dinner with her? Did he want to kiss her again? Yes was the answer to both questions dinner was fine, it would not result in his death? Right? But some plotting maybe needed to ensure that his health is kept in its current working order which could not be called good or healthy. He really needed to visit the healer for the lung cleaner. But why would she agree so readily was his kiss that good or was there another ulterior motive that lurked well hidden below the surface.

"Very well would you like to join me for dinner?"

"Yes I would like that."

She replied and she reached across from her seat and squeezed his hand, it was a little unsettling this whole night was a little unsettling and had left him worse for wear and really rather confused not just to his own motives and emotions but those of Miss Granger as well. Deciding he had enough of such turmoil for one evening so he decided all be it reluctantly to make his farewells and head back home.

~8~

It was on Thursday five days later that the pair was to meet for dinner, he dressed in a set of his better robes nothing too formal but smart, black and hair tied back neatly with a black ribbon. In his opinion he came across as neat and sophisticated and hopefully not looking like a Death Eater as that would put a dampener on things. Everything in order he Apparated to the address she gave him and checked his pocket watch he was early by five minutes so he stood in front of the door and waited. His heart was beating furiously and his collar seemed rather tight, what was wrong with him? It was not like it was his first ever date but it was his first in ten years and there was the very real and outside possibility that he could be walking to his death but preliminary observations rated that as being on the remote end of the scale for possible evening outcomes. She was an intelligent and shrewd young woman who wanted to have dinner with him who liked him kissing her; he kept repeating the mantra until it was time to knock on the door. Taking a discrete steadying breath which was becoming harder of later, why did the healer have to be fully booked? Raising a manicured hand he rapped his knuckles on the door the resulting knock was rather pleasant. The door opened revealing Granger wearing a rather modest set of robes all made up and ready to go it was certainly an improvement on previous dates where half the date had been waiting for the Witch to get ready but he was getting distracted and judging by the way her eyes narrowed slightly she was waiting for some form of greeting and compliment.

"Good Evening Miss Granger. You are looking rather splendid this evening."

She smiled and rush of relief spread through him.

"Thank you Mr Malfoy you are looking rather handsome yourself."

He resisted the urge to preen but her compliment was reassuring perhaps he was not going to die this evening after all. Though he urged himself caution he was not in the all clear yet there was still plenty of time for her motive to become clear or for his past to rear its ugly head. She was waiting for him to make the next move if her wandering eyes were anything to go by and the way she tried to avoid tapping her foot in a regular motion, she was obviously eager but did not want to come off as such. He decided to file the information away for later it could help explain the eventual ending of the evening but he had to move on to the next stage of the evening. Ever the gentleman he offered Granger his arm and was more than a little relived when she primly placed her hand on his arm and let him Apparate them to their destination a small restaurant just of Diagon Alley.

He was not as concerned as he should have been that both Granger and himself had been silent even when they were shown to their table, she smiled not a polite smile which surprised him but a real smile when he pulled her chair out before seating himself.

"Thank you."

She said.

Eager for something to distract him from having to make conversation before he had formed anything resembling a topic or theme for conversation and planned all possible outcomes he picked up the menu and began to peruse and think. He briefly looked up and saw Granger was engrossed in her own menu; he heard her sigh and saw her fingers idly playing with the edge of the table cloth.

"Why did you say yes?"

He asked it was the question on the fore front of his mind and being direct with Granger had proved to be an advantageous route so far and if he was honest he was driving himself half mad trying to rationalise the decision from her perspective but found anything he came up with to be lacking and he had to accept the fact that he could never perceive the situation as she would and moving on to damage limitation would be a better use of his time. He could only hope that she was not offended by his bluntness.

"I wanted to learn more about the Lucius Malfoy who kissed me."

Her answer was succinct and made him more than a little curious he was certain there was more to it than that but he was not going to push his luck. For the time being at least. But what was there to learn about the man who kissed her? That he was a depressive old Wizard who could be found with his nose in a book with a glass of something in one hand and cigarette in the other? Hmm if he was to list his own qualities they could be here all night perhaps he should control the conversation by steering her into questions he was prepared to answer? Yes that would work freedom but he was still in control he still knew little of her motives and he would love to think the better of her but experience had taught him that the opposite was usual true of most people. It made for a frustrating and mentally draining existence.

"Ask away."

He frowned a little and hoped it came across as merely puzzled or quizzical at the menu rather than at his vague words that left his mouth under pressure rather than thinking it all through. It was alarming how she disarmed his defences, though maybe he was letting her that she was an excuse to let his guard down? That was not a pleasant thought not with the whole evening to get through first. Maybe she would ask easy questions like favourite colour, favourite food?

"If the Dark Lord came back tomorrow who would you support?"

The big guns and finally her motive, she was keeping tabs on him for her superiors that conniving little… Wait! Shouted his mind, based on their history it was a perfectly logical question to ask and the answer would determine what was to happen for the rest of the evening but that was a conundrum in its self. If he seemed too insincere or too much of a toadie she would think less of him and that he was hiding something and too much truth and, and? Well that was half the battle he didn't know what the truth was how could you explain that to someone like her? How could he explain that he didn't want to hurt those of no Wizarding family but the same could not be said for the Muggles? That he still felt superior to people, that he didn't know if he would have the courage to ignore the Mark burning and suffer at the hands of his brothers nor the courage to turn traitor and deceive one of the most powerful minds that ever lived? Unable to think of anything or a better way to phrase his jumbled thoughts he settled on simply telling her everything he thought at the end of the day it was up to her as to whether she believed his words or not.

"Thank you for being honest. I didn't expect you to come down on one side or the other I don't see really how you could."

Well that was different. He was not expecting such, such maturity from her or understanding. Why was she being so nice it had to be a trick right?

"We are not going to trust each other or get used to each other overnight. If anything this will be a gradual process."

He paused for a minute wondering if he spoke out loud but he didn't her words were true and he felt his chest loosen a little she was not delusional or unrealistic she must of realised it was difficult for him as well or her words were the product of phenomenal luck and timing. He would take the understanding it made it easier to be sat her with her and if he was honest feel slightly better about himself. He returned his attention in earnest to the menu and managed a sneaky glance at his companion her brow was furrowed and not in a good or interesting way he wondered quickly if he should of said something in reply. He didn't want to come across as rude but what could he say to the statement she was too intelligent and he too polite to repeat what she had just said and it seemed discourteous a mockery even instead of a dinner between adults.

"I am pleased we are of the same mind."

He said and she seemed to be pacified by his reply and returned to the menu, however it lead to new problems about what topic of conversation to move on to and then of course what to order and the wine to go with it. Did he pick an expensive bottle or a cheaper bottle she could be offended either way and then there was the dish itself it was all a lot of pressure and something he was not at all use to but he found strangely that he liked the challenge it kept him on his feet. Mentally there was never a dull moment. He was somewhat relived when they both chose the risotto and more so when she asked his opinion of the wine it was the of course the wine he himself would of selected it did make the rest of the evening go far smoother or at least in terms of the minutiae.

"Favourite colour?"

She asked weakly he couldn't help but laugh and it seemed that nervous laughter was infectious as he was not the only one laughing into his wine.

"I have no favourite I simply pick the colour that serves the purpose best."

It was true there was a colour for every occasion and Merlin forbid he wear anything that clashes. They descended back into silence save for the chinking of cutlery and wine glass. The silence was unnerving and it seemed unfair for her to carry the conversation all the time and she had made a rather splendid effort so far. But what did he lead with? His usual conversation starters relived on knowing the person or politics and he did not think that politics would be suitable for this evening, it left him with one topic left and it was the one he hated. Tell me about yourself. There was nothing for it he had to reveal that he was a boring, old fashioned Wizard without making it sound so. Hmm a problem of the highest order and one even his sneaky brain was having trouble solving, unless he went for comedic effect. People are at ease if you can make fun of yourself and she will think him exaggerating and he would end up being seen in a slightly better light.

"I am at a loss of what to say next other than the fact that I can often be found with my nose in a book, drink in one hand and cigarette in the other."

Granger raised an eyebrow in thought, it was an odd look and one he did not realise it was possible for a woman to pull off.

"How can you turn the page?"

She asked her voice the definition of calm and benign normality he almost choked on his mouthful of wine but that was better than no answer.

"It is a rather delicate operation and it took me years to hold glass and cigarette in the same hand without getting ash in my drink."

The effect of his reply was lost when he was overcome with sudden and violent coughing fit causing him to lean to the side and cough into his handkerchief, great now he was wheezing just when he thought things were going better and he did not have to worry about his life or that he would not see the lovely Granger again.

"Are you alright?"

She asked her voice full of concern. He smiled she cared that was unexpected but not unwelcome and made his body feel odd it was too soon to feel anything over than an interesting fancy if he got his hopes up it would all end in tears and he was still undecided as to what her being lovely meant though the more he sat looking at her the more attractive and obtainable the idea of her spending the night seemed. Which confused him and threw his thoughts and emotions into a maelstrom of swirling turmoil once more and it would be impolite to drink enough to help him discover what such thoughts and idea meant.

"Fine thank you."

She looked as if she was going to press the issue further but at the last minute thought better of it which he was very grateful for as at this moment he did not know how he would react to anything more or overt in nature. They finished their dinner's silently and both declined desert he quickly settled the bill which Granger seemed happy with letting him do, he did wonder whether he would have to fight her for the right to pay but she was either more old fashioned or better raised than he gave her credit for and considering he gave her a lot of credit and benefit this evening it was a measure of how if not reformed he was as a character then definitely how curious he was about her. But it was hard to think right now and all he wanted was to finish the evening quickly and politely and go home to think preferably in bed. He escorted Granger back to her home and panicked. He was unsure where to go from here; did they plan a second dinner date? Did he kiss her cheek or hand? He was spared some of the humiliation of being caught on the back foot.

"Thank you for dinner Mr Malfoy I would not be opposed to repeating the experience."

He smiled and decided to kiss her hand it was most appropriate and certainly promised that there could be more later and anticipation was definitely an advantage in matters of this nature.

"Please call me Lucius."

Well that surprised him and her from the fact she had to quickly close her mouth and school her features into an expression more becoming of the situation.

"Good night Lucius."

"Good night Hermione I will owl you regarding next week."

And with that he left feeling really rather pleased with himself.

~8~

He turned up at Hermione's home a month later in late august this was to be their fourth date and he could not help but feel faintly happy, conversations were not quite fluid between them but they were certainly less forced and she seemed much more at ease with him and oddly he was much more at ease with her yet something at the back of his mind was bothering him. It was not in any way a negative response to her character or his ability to have his horizons if not widened then changed which was all the more troubling. No his mental gymnastics were faring rather well. What bothered him was just how much he had started to think of her and the…situations they were involved in. In his youth he had of course judged women with only one objective in mind their attractiveness to a specific part of his anatomy. And he could not deny the effect that he allowed Hermione to have on him which now he was a fully grown and he liked to think mature Wizard lead him to question just how one went about discussing such matters and feelings. It was easier when married but would Hermione accept his advances? Was it even right to be thinking of her in such a manner? He was not despite what many people these days thought a prude, he did though believe that such relationships were to be kept firmly in private and it was no one else's business what happened in his bedroom and who it happened with. Women troubled him because they did not think or see things as he did and emotions were harder to categorise and predict than say political fallout from talks with the Minister. He was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss Hermione again something he had not done except in greeting or in goodbye since that night on the terrace. He sent the build-up of emotions away for the time being as he focused on the issue at hand, as normal he raised his hand and rapped with his knuckles on the wooden door letting the loud clear knock carry into the home. Hermione opened the door and was dressed for the occasion they were rather nice robes the ones she wore on their first date. It seemed to him that she had reached the end of her wardrobe it was no hardship he preferred these robes the best, they showed her body to the best advantage whilst still being modest.

"Good evening Hermione. You look beautiful this evening."

He said and raised her soft hand to his lips kissing her knuckles softly allowing his lips to linger for a second more than necessary, her shy smile and slight blush to her cheeks would seem that it was the correct action to take. He was too busy congratulating himself that he missed her return greeting. The words didn't matter all that did was her soft plump lips as they kissed his cheek. His fingers tensed as they served to stop him from moving his lips to hers it was a difficult thing to do but he managed.

"Shall we?"

He asked holding out his arm. It occurred to him that it was now time for him to take the initiative in whatever relationship existed between them if things were to go in the direction he wanted them to. How was she supposed to know his intentions if he made little about what he wanted known? It occurred as they were waiting outside the restaurant that despite his initial moments of bold bluntness he had been really rather pedestrian and for a man of his impeccable sense of style and drama it was quite the blow to ones ego. Maybe it was due to him trying so hard to see her as something different and caught up in the technicalities of their relationship that he had really missed the point. Hermione seemed at ease still and had no further objections nor did she seem hesitant or distance around him, they even went to the third and final grand gala last week together. Though at peculiar times she did seem a bit agitated and jumpy around him only for such a moment to quickly pass. He noticed it occurred often at the end of a date or strangely when he would be having an after dinner smoke while savouring a fine cognac.

It occurred to him as he was finishing the last of his fish main course that the next step in progressing with their courtship was for her to accompany him back to the Manor which while a simple and elegant idea may prove harder after the little mishap involving Hermione, Bellatrix and a knife. It was really asking a lot for her to confront her fears and Hermione would likely never let on that she was uncomfortable or scared and was likely to pass out or worse from a flash black. He could if she agreed resolve to keep a firm eye on her while using the library to make him look as his best advantage and progress the evening to a mutually satisfying end. But how could he approach the matter in an innocent manner without coming across as crude or worse lewd and cause her mind to jump to assumptions or cause her to do something she was not ready or of a mind to do? Never mind his current confusion on quite how he wished the evening or future evenings to end both physically and on an honest and emotional level.

"Is your fish troubling you?"

Her voice permeated the fog of his thoughts and he realised that he had been chewing the same mouthful for a number of minutes and that in any other circumstance she was right to be concerned, how does one say you were merely thinking and the fish is done to perfection and you wish certain house elves were here to take notes on how to cook halibut correctly.

"Not at all. You have caught me in a minute of wool gathering."

Yes that was an ideal way to wave of her concerns without revealing his hand all at once. Now to bring up the possibility of her one day visiting the Manor. Yes that was a clever way of doing things he would suggest the possibility while leaving the invitation open for her to make the decision it shows that he is aware of past events and transgressions without wanting their life and relationship to be ruled by them. Though however he phrased it was likely to stretch her moral and intellectual allowances concerning him to the limit but short of buying a new property this was a step that he could reasonably expect her to one day take it would be vulgar for him to invite himself to her home and although pleasant he did not hold up hope of an invitation from her. Their courtship was still far too vague and he could be the only one who considered their current interactions a courtship. A minute of thinking more and he had deciding on a course of action helped by Hermione declining desert.

"I was wondering if you would care to join me for a night cap?"

He asked smoothly while deliberately placing down Galleons to cover the cost of dinner, she seemed flustered which was to be expected and as if she was waging an internal battle which again he had considered as a possibility. Five minutes and she hasn't said a word or looked up from her lap now was the time for damage limitation and of course soothing her concerns it was a change of plan but not disastrous in its change of outcomes.

"I humbly beg your forgiveness in this matter."

He said daring to reach across the table and place a comforting hand on her nervous one at a loss he decided to stroke the hand and perhaps the calming gesture would allow him to make amends for causing her such distress which was not his attention at all but it seemed a difficult concept to express to her without seeming insincere or worse apologising for a social faux pas.

"There is nothing to forgive and I would like to join you for a night cap."

He relaxed he was still on track but now he had a different problem he did not expect Hermione to join him tonight, he was expecting at best a polite declining of his invitation with the seed firmly planted for consideration upon another day. But this was how he wanted the evening to end though or he thought it was how he wanted it to end when he arrived to collect the lovely Hermione for dinner. This brought him back to his original thoughts of how to go about expressing his desire to take things further and deepening the relationship and courtship they already had.

He rose first and stood waiting for Hermione to rise and to offer her is arm and to floo them both to the study where hopefully the books and the more intimate atmosphere would alleviate some of the stress, panic or fear she would feel. Hermione tumbled as she stood and quickly he was able to place his arm around her waist to steady her it looked to him that she had twisted her ankle which now meant he had to recalculate his new plans for the evening already and this was not what he had in mind at all.

"Would you prefer it if I escorted you home?"

He hoped she could not pick up on the tinge of regret that he knew was present somewhere within his normal cultured if clip tone.

"Nonsense it's only a twisted ankle and I am sure a brandy medicinal you understand is exactly what I need."

He chuckled and held out his arm where she clasped it firmly and decided to lean almost all of her weight against him as he walked them to the fireplace. It was rather pleasant and a man could get used to such contact, even if the urge to press his lips against her slender neck or bury his head in hair must be thought at every juncture. Holding her tighter against him not that it was really possible more like increasing the pressure from his own arm he managed to navigate the Floo and ensure their safe and mostly soot free arrival to the Library of the Manor. Carefully still being mindful of her ankle he led Hermione through to the seating area and settle her on to the chaise while sitting primly on to the large wing backed chair and summoning the decanter of brandy and two snifters to the table next to him. Carefully he poured the two measures of brandy and a casual flick of his wand had a coffee table and snifter arranged neatly in front of Hermione so that the next phase of the evening could begin or begin once he had prepared a cigarette. A quick glance and Hermione was nursing her brandy while admiring the library having kicked of her shoes this seemed a good sign so full attention could be given to lightning his cigarette which he did and mindful of earlier he studied Hermione's reaction and tried to record every detail it would not do to miss something crucial to his understanding of her peculiar reactions and her reaction to the Manor. At first there was nothing and he felt if he was honest and he normally was when dealing with his own thoughts or more honest than he was with other people quite let down and wondered if his curiosity was something overtly obvious that he missed or he was making such behaviour up. Then it happened.

Just as he relaxed back into the chair, brandy safely on the table and was enjoying exhaling and playing with the cigarette in his fingertips Hermione started to fidget a little and looked around the room in some sort of curious daze before looking back in his general direction and trying to be discrete about fanning herself. It was odd for it was certainly not that warm in the library in fact he was rather comfortable in his many layers considering it was late August.

"Is the library too warm for you?"

He asked and she blushed. The girl blushed and stammered that she was fine. The stammer would suggest she was having difficulties which he had expected but a blush. A blush! Was most unusual though it was rather enticing when combined with how decadent she looked stretched out on the chaise. In fact he was very much in danger of having to cast a discrete cooling charm on his trousers; he was in the middle of planning out just how to pull of such a move when the solution to Hermione's predicament became clear. It was laughable and he actually bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from laughing. She was hot for him. She wanted him how could he have been so blind? Well that was simple he was far too caught up in his own feelings that he missed was going on around him luckily he caught this slip before it became too late. This did make his predicament of explain his own desire for her that much simpler.

Waiting for her to look him in the eye he smirked sexily and stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray and sauntered over to the chaise placing a soft kiss on the inside of wrist enjoying the scent of vanilla that filled his senses before sliding down next to her and casually draping his arm around her shoulders bringing her warm body to rest against his. He felt the faint shimmer of disappointment as she stiffened from the contact which fled when she relaxed again. Her moan as his fingers lifted her legs and gently rubbed her foot was almost his undoing sending a jolt and his blood south, at this point he decided it counterproductive to hide his desire from her. He was so lost in the emotional whirlwind he failed to notice Hermione's foot slip out of his grasp and her lips on his. He moaned against her lips in surprise, hands searching for more of her delectable body to touch and kiss. He caved the moment her hot tongue started seeking entry into his mouth, his hands lifting her onto his lap never daring to break the kiss and have the moment end. He almost screamed in frustration when her lips and tongue removed themselves from his person, the sensation of her shifting on his lap almost made up for the loss of contact.

"What now?"

She asked breathlessly, her voice was odd husky but not quite pulling it off it didn't matter no matter what at this moment she was perfection and he would do anything to keep it.

"What do you want?"

He asked hands drifting and exploring the delightful soft curves of her arse, she still didn't say no and she needed her mouth to talk with even if he rather stop talking altogether, even in his state any other part of her body seemed too much.

"I'm not sure."

Her voice was a cross between a whisper and a whimper; he didn't want her to be upset. He just wanted her to stay here on his lap, he wanted to inhale the delightful scent of vanilla and taste the brandy from her mouth, enjoy the feeling of her body moving against his body and cock.

"Hush now I won't do anything you don't want."

He was quick to reassure her and quicker to place frantic little kisses down her neck. She felt so good there against him his tongue on her body all his senses filling with Hermione her scent, her warmth, touch and taste, just let her stay longer he pleaded silently dipping his head for a slow kiss exploring the inside of her mouth she groaned in her throat. It was the greatest sound he had ever heard. He was shocked when she pulled away and removed herself from his lap, his was ready to shout and rage his brain losing all rational function his hands balled into fists furiously his nails dug in painfully. Until her weight was pressed against his side, her nest of hair tickling his nose as she cuddled resting her head on his shoulder. Heavily he snaked an arm around her waist it would not do for her to leave just yet. He breathed deeply calming down and slowly his sense of rational thought returned and the only sensible course was to stay exactly as they were. It seemed that hours past while he sat there in a blur of pleasure and longing but the evening did finally end with Hermione slowly making her way home after half an hour of hinting. As reluctant as he was to let her go his rational side was quick in reminding him of what happened and how long she stayed content to be with him. He was not the only one who saw what they had as a courtship and it had most certainly gotten more involved. With a yawn he left for bed with the memories of the evening in his mind and Hermione's name on his tongue more than happy to keep his own company. It was all things considered the perfect end to his mentally exhausting day.

~8~

Five months had passed from what he affectionately coined their first snog, in his mind only of course. Despite that evening it was not until three months ago that both were comfortable enough around the other for intimacy but when it happened it happened. He had lived his life by many rules over the years often many were conflicting so choosing which rule to follow came down to which rule would increase his chances of continuing survival. But his main rule and one that had never led him astray or caused him to be incorrect before was a simple one: If you are going to do something do it perfectly or not at all. He considered a hat trick of pleasure for Hermione before succumbing to his own was the definition of perfect, her approval of his body was an added bonus and one he rather liked. He always considered himself to be on the better looking end of the spectrum but to have his looks acknowledged as such by Hermione was a nice way to have his ego and body come to that stroked. At the moment they were in bed after resolving their first difference of opinion for argument was such a harsh ugly word and painted things to be more aggressive and explosive than they really were. He turned his head slightly and took a silent moment to observe Hermione reading and clad in one of his night shirts that was clearly too big for her but that was part of the charm. He was surprised earlier in the night when he presented her with the night shirt when she turned round and said she never pictured him as a pyjamas man he was still not sure what she meant by that but judging by the soft smile she wore he considered his night shirts to be a good thing. What was not to like about them really? And of course she looked rather fetching in his nightshirt.

Hermione closed her book and shuffled her body closer cuddling into his satin covered body after pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, he enjoyed her body against him and it was a great worry removed from his mind now that they could just lie in bed together. Pillow talk and cuddling was a unique art and one that was immensely enjoyable he was glad that Hermione was not opposed to the notion he loved to feel her body and if it were up to him they would never be apart. Though it would make life a tad complicated so he would take what he could, he moved his arm and wrapped it delicately around her shoulders. He frowned his throat was feeling choked up and he was loathe to move from the comfort of the bedding and Hermione, he tried to cough but to no avail the only option was to sit up and cough. Violently in a thoroughly unattractive manner. Moving the pillows to support his back his coughed and tried to clear his throat and chest. This was odd it was not working and for once his bed time habits could not be blamed; Hermione had banned smoking in the bedroom and it was far too cold to smoke on the balcony so he had been smoke free for several hours. Trying to take a deep breathe he hit his chest and coughed again. No difference he was if forced to admit it feeling a little panicked this had not happened before normally a cough, a hit and everything was back to normal albeit a touch wheezy.

"Lucius are you alright?"

Hermione asked he could hear and he appreciated the concern in her voice but this was nothing he couldn't handle the key was not to panic and make everything worse.

"I'm. Fine."

He wheezed. He was decidedly not fine. He thought back to the past week or so when he had noticed he was rather short of breath maybe he should have gone back to the healer. Oh bugger. Which was he reasoned the understatement of the century, he forgot to go to the healer not since he was told the non-emergency waiting list was about a month, resolving to try to book an appointment at a later time when they were less busy instead of being palmed of with a month's wait. But everything would be fine. He was a Wizard; Wizard's didn't die from blocked lungs gained from smoking cigarettes giving out while relaxing in bed with their lovely girlfriend. Right? He tried to breathe and cough again but it was not getting easier in fact he was pretty sure he was inhaling less air. Yes his throat and lungs were closing up and he was panicking and really rather scared. Fuck his chest around his heart was hurting too. He could feel his heart rate increase and his breathing grow shallower still, he was panicking. What could he do? He was going to die and there was nothing he could to stop it, not a thing. He had to lie there and take it, chest tight and sore with no breath. His only hope was Hermione. This was it. This was to be his end.

"Lucius do you need a healer?"

Sweet Hermione this could be the last time he heard her voice. He wasn't ready to die, he didn't want to die. But he couldn't breathe and the pain shooting through his chest was immense he tried to scream out and tell Hermione what was wrong but he knew all he managed was a grimace and to claw frantically at her arm. He was in agony and beginning to feel light headed, he knew from experience as his limbs lost all feeling that he was about to pass out. As his vision faded he saw Hermione run to the fireplace. Everything was going to be fine. He kept repeating to himself as he kept trying to breathe, his mouth opened but hardly any air came in the terror and panic he initially felt seemed to ebb away. Had he resigned his fate to death? No he was not going to die, his chest was in pain but all it would take is a simple lung cleaning procedure. Hermione had got help. But if this was the end she knew how he felt right? At least they got a kiss and a cuddle before it happened. No he was going to stay conscious he was not going to give in to the growing blackness and bleak dead spot gaining control of his senses he did have something to lose he had rather a lot to lose. Draco! He felt tears or what should have been tears fall down his face. He was going to leave his beautiful baby boy. No he needed more time. It wasn't fair. He never got to say goodbye to Draco he couldn't remember the last time he told Draco he loved him. And now. Now he was going to die in agony and he never said goodbye to either of them. No that wasn't a good think to think. No crying no regrets there was nothing to regret because he was not going to die. He was never going to light a cigarette ever again. He was going to throw away all his cigarettes and replace them with mints. He was going to wake up and gather both Draco and Hermione up in his arms and never let go because he was not leaving them. I love you he thought as he used his last ounce of strength to look up at the fireplace if he was going to go he would see her face one last time. The face of someone who cared for him because they chose to not because they had to. Hermione stepped back from the fire place. She looked calm or calmer. No tears. Everything was going to be ok. A man and a woman were shouting orders or he thought they were orders he couldn't see them or Hermione for that matter. Oh dear he was passing out.

~8~

He slowly opened his eyes the bright light hurt as it entered and his vision was still blurry. He tried to move to see where he was but his body was heavy and his chest still sore this seemed to be a good sign. He tried to push himself up to sit against the pillows but he was too sore to move the best he good do was turn his head on the pillow weakly. He blinked trying to adjust to the light all he could make out was that there was something to the side of him it looked like a person but his eyes were too blurry to see.

"Lucius are you awake?"

Hermione. That was Hermione's voice he had to still be alive she did not seem like the type to follow him into the next life. His throat felt sore and he knew speaking would be immensely painful but he had to know who the figure was.

"Hermione."

He rasped struggling to move an arm across the bedding. This was odd the bedding was soft not dissimilar to what he had on his bed at the Manor, something warm encased his hand. There was something familiar about the softness and the size of what he thought was the hand covering his.

"It's me. You're in your bed at the Manor I don't know how much you remember but you had your incident yesterday evening its morning now."

He sighed in relief his chest was still sore why was no one giving him a potion for the pain? But at least Hermione was still here, he hoped to wake up next to her for more mornings to come just not like this. Before he could get lost in more pleasant thoughts he had to resolve the most prominent thing on his returning mind and ease the burden on his chest he had to see Draco.

"Draco."

He said hoarsely his throat on fire as he spoke; it was hard to talk while laying down completely on his back his breathing was not quite back to normal it seemed. It didn't matter now though he was alive and that was the most important thing. Hermione saved his life he knew she would be modest and say it was the healers who saved him but there were not many in this world who would keep their cool and Floo St. Mungos all so he could live. But right now he needed to have word about Draco all he really wanted right now was to hold his little boy he could not imagine a world without Draco in it.

"As soon as I got the Healers I managed to get hold of Draco we were both here at your bedside all night. He was. I…I'd never seen him look so upset Lucius and I don't think I looked any better. Things calmed down once the Healers said you were going to be fine he left for work an hour ago he said he would be back this evening. He'll be so relieved that you are awake again."

He bit down on his trembling lip and tried to stop the tears welling up in his eyes he had nothing to cry about he was alive and both Draco and Hermione cared enough to stay at his bedside all night. Right now he wanted Hermione to come and join him on the bed the thought of dying and being alone had really shaken him and as much as he didn't want to admit it out loud he needed hug. He wanted to be soothed and looked after. It took much effort and a good deal of pain to move his other arm over his body and pat the space next to him on the bed even though his face was contorted in mild pain he hoped Hermione got the hint. Thankfully she did and gently pulled her hand away and she sat cautiously on top of the covers before slowly inching her way next to him. He tried to smirk, he failed but the thought was there, she was still in his nightshirt. As the smell of vanilla and what he now knew to be a cent unique to Hermione washed over him he struggled to move his body the small distance that would allow him to cuddle or at least lie against her and everything would be right with his world. As bizarre as it seemed to him to admit such sentimental notions it was nonetheless true.

"What. Happened?"

He asked an indeterminable amount of time later, he had to know he was just unsure he wanted to know and he did not need an 'I told you so' lecture on smoking he meant what he said about getting rid of his cigarettes and replacing them with mints. Hermione took a long time to respond this was not good but she said the healers said he was going to be fine? And that was a mouthful to construct he was too ill for too much thinking.

"You had a heart attack like event. Your lungs were blocked with rubbish and caused you to choke; you then panicked causing your air ways to tighten even more. To complete things you had something akin to heart attack. They managed to clean your lungs and airways but you will be sore for a few days as the potions do their work and as you cough up quite literally the insides of your lungs. You were not given a pain potion as you are likely to be sick at all hours we do not want you sicking the potion back up or overdosing from taking too much for the pain when you are sick. We all also thought you deserved the pain to remind you of what had happened in an attempt to teach a young Wizard a new trick."

She said he was young. He however did know that the side effects of lung cleaning was to literally sick up everything nasty from inside your body it was not pleasant and he was unsure as to the mechanics but in all honesty he didn't want to know it was bad enough that he had undergone a similar procedure several times before. He didn't want Hermione to see him be sick but he didn't want to be alone and it would be awkward for Draco. He really needed to sit up it was becoming a little taxing to breath lying on his back though Hermione's leg moving ever so slightly just catching his own leg with feather light touches was better than any pain killing potion there was. He was such a softy today but then he realised that being emotional and loving was not the worst thing in the world. He just hated feeling weak and lying here unable to move was not helping matters.

"Help me sit up."

Hermione looked at him with concern but as much has his shackles were raised and he was ready to go on the defensive her warm eyes disarmed him. He always let his guard down around her and she never ran away, she stayed.

"Are you sure it will hurt."

He nodded and her smaller arms hooked under his arms and pulled him up on to the pillows. She was right it did hurt and his whole body was aching as he tried to support himself while she arranged the pillows to support his back. He was pleased to note he was still in his night shirt. He breathed heavily every breath hurting but thankful there seemed to be no other problems, he wanted to massage his aching chest but it hurt too much to move his arms.

"Your panting brings me to an important point. The Healer said for the next week or so while your body is healing you are not to do anything that will place undue strain on your breathing. This means no sex and no easing the strain yourself."

Her face went red as she dropped her voice to whisper the last and unmentionable part of her conversation he was thankful for her warning. Not that he needed to be warned she would under no circumstance be intimate with him until he was healed and the other thing he only did when she left early and something about her demeanour told him Hermione was not going anywhere for the foreseeable future. She was still sat gingerly to one side; did she not want to be with an old Wizard who was liable to drop dead? Or did she see him as weak as china doll? This was confusing and too much hard work all he wanted was a cuddle.

"Cuddle."

He demanded as if he was a child. It took a moment before he registered it was his voice and he spoke out loud. But as he closed his eyes and tried to relax he felt the mattress sag as Hermione moved and soon she was flush against him bringing that familiar warmth and all the pleasure he gained from having her close. They both fell asleep and awoke sometime in the afternoon with both of them feeling refreshed and him used to his aching limbs. He swallowed down as some of the tar filled bile tried to make its way up it was singularly the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted he knew his features were contorted and him shuddering in disgust. Hermione whipped her wand out again from down her cleavage which provided a nice distraction but left him forgetting why he was looking and why she would need her wand. She picked the old and now defunct ash tray of the bedside cabinet and quickly transfigured it into a large metal bowl and thrust the hideous thing into his lap. He was about to comment when a spasm took over his body and he was violently sick, the foul black bile slowly making its way into the metal bowl. It was disgusting, words could not describe how sick he was now feeling, his throat in agony. Yet Hermione had not spoken a word she moved to the side and stroked his hair away from his face. It was a nice gesture and her gentle hands working his scalp made the ordeal easier it felt nice. Being looked after was nice and he could not remember the last time anyone gave him such tenderness, not even the house elves. Yet she pulled out a large towel and carefully mopped and wiped the specs of that vile liquid from around his mouth and from his night shirt. Her hand moving to his back and shoulders rubbing gently he felt his tense muscles relax as he leant back and allowed himself to be completely at ease and feel such delight and pleasure from her simple kindness. It was strange to feel pleasure in this way and it was different to how he would normally describe pleasure, maybe he trusted her or should trust her?

And she sat behind him cuddling, massaging and wiping as he was sporadically sick throughout the afternoon but her soothing and gentle hands never left. He was just lost in the way she cooed platitudes when he was being sick and how she would revert to normal conversation when cleaning up and sitting with him as if nothing happened. As the afternoon progressed and her tiredness showed she still wrapped herself around his aching body and cuddled in against his side apparently happy to still be there with him.

She excused herself to freshen up claiming she must look a state when Draco came to visit she did not look a state she was lovely but he appreciated the gesture. He couldn't help but smile at Draco and place his still aching and heavy but not quite as bad hands on Draco's and bring his perfect son into a deep hug that he never wanted to break. Although he would never let such emotions show on his face he felt Draco's unease and placed a soft kiss on Draco's brow and sadly let him go and sit on the chair to his side that Hermione vacated many hours ago.

"How are you feeling father?"

Bless Draco.

"Much better thank you. I'm sorry to of scared you like that last night."

And he was he never wanted to see any terror on Draco's face again not after that terrible year. He vowed he would never make Draco suffer again but he had and he realised how much he was still depended on. His role to Draco may have changed but he was still needed to be that invincible constant that nothing could shake and he thought back to Hermione's words spoken many months ago. It was time to let go. Draco looked as if he wanted to say something important but he could tell the boy was struggling to find the words he must admit he had a fair idea of what was troubling young Draco and he could not think there was a worse way to find out about your father's relationship with a new woman regardless of age.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I was not keeping it secret from you Draco and until last night and today I myself was still unsure to whether I wished to see this courtship through to its eventual end."

That was true until last night when they were just enjoying being together and then today when she mothered him he was still unsure as to what he wanted out of this relationship and now he knew. He wanted to eventually marry Hermione. He wanted them to have a life together they were well suited and how could he let her go after this? Granted she may not feel the same way so he would take whatever Hermione gave him and he would be eternally grateful.

"I was scared I was going to lose my daddy."

Draco whimpered silent tears forming in his eyes. His heart broke once again for his little boy so he did the only thing he could do, pull his distraught son onto the bed and rock him against his body and wait for the tears to stop. Everything was going to be fine.

"I love you Draco."

He whispered softly so softly he was ensure if Draco heard but the tears stopped and Draco pulled away reverting right before his eyes from being four years old to a grown man of twenty eight. How time flies and how much he wasted with work and the Dark Lord, there were more important things than the Ministry Ball's and he had let them slip away almost from his grasp. If any good was to come of this…complication it was him leaving his old life behind and embracing what he still had rather than worry over infinitesimal nothings that contorted his view of the ideal while destroying the ideal he did have. With a ruffle of Draco's hair that he couldn't resist he sent the boy on his way and Hermione re-entered.

He just watched fondly as she walked to the bed and sat next to him. There was nothing else to say or think.

"I think it's time we get you in the bath and into a clean shirt."

Her words disrupted the pleasant daze he was in but a bath did sound heavenly and he would like to be in clean bed clothes. Maybe he could convince the ever delightful Hermione to join him for said bath? He was ill after all and you could not in good conscience say no to a sick Wizard especially if he was your paramour. Yes he may have to avoid excitement and all strenuous activities but that did not mean he could not enjoy her delicious body or hands as they stroked and eased his tired body. That would be a nice end to day and they would never have to worry about a repeat of yesterday evening he had already sent instructions to the elves that they were to dispose of all tobacco products found in the Manor and even his lighter. There were some things it was okay to change and perhaps this tradition was one of them. Why remember the man who destroyed his life? He knew what family tradition and family honour was and his father for once was wrong. This did not mean he was one of that new liberal crowd he was still the same conservative and quite frankly old fashioned gentleman. All it took was a simple change in perspective.

He slowly moved his sleeping legs and leaned heavily onto Hermione who possessed remarkable strength for one so small lead him into the bathroom and the awaiting bath already filled with hot water and soap. Gentle excited hands peeled of his sweat and other stained nightshirt and eased him down into the inviting warm water. He was fairly certain he moaned from the contact of the water against his skin. Hermione removed her own shirt and slipped into the water seating him between her legs. Her hands washed and massaged his body before her attention was given to his hair. It was ecstasy the combination of her fingers kneading his scalp and the way her fingers stroked through his hair painstakingly working out all the knots and the soothing lavender of the bath water. He purred in contentment and closed his eyes that suddenly felt heavy and relaxed his fingers idly seeking out the soft soapy skin of her legs while trying to press his back against her soft full breasts. She poured water over his head to wash away the soap being careful not to get anything in his eyes he had never been treated so delicately before and it occurred to him as she was helping him dry off that this was an extension of pillow talk and cuddling that you could feel good looking after others. He could happily spend the day soothing her aching body and bathing her being sure to work out every tangle in her nest of hair. He reached out and gently but firmly pulled her down and found her lips with his.

She lead him back to the bed the bedding already changed by the helpful little elves and a large bowl of what looked to be ice cream sat on the bed side cabinet. This had to be the work of his lovely Witch who was not purely looking after just herself when she left earlier. As meticulously as always he folded back the covers and got in on his favourite side: the right. He looked at Hermione who was dressed in a clean nightshirt of his she looked confident with a tint of uncertainty something was not quite to her liking but he could not work out what. Did she want to join him under the covers? If so she was more than welcome he had every hope that it would become her bed as well as his. As he settled himself down, propped up on his pillows she started biting her lip again as if worried or anxious. After such an indescribable but definitely pleasant day he found her behaviour unnerving and wondered if he was to pay the price for such enjoyment. If at last Hermione's long term aim had become apparent. Yet there was nothing she could want from him that she could get without incriminating herself or if she wanted to join him in bed or she had to do was ask or just join why was she losing her bottle now?

His brain was getting into overdrive nothing in his life made sense anymore, but her eyes would glance across to the bowl of ice cream and then back to him and the space in the bed next to him.

"Is there something I should know about the ice cream?"

He asked a hint of danger in his voice that he hoped if it was all an innocent misunderstanding he could pass of as playfulness.

"It's just vanilla and I asked the elves for it. Unless there are greater mysteries that ice cream can reveal that I am currently unaware of?"

Hmm nothing there that would suggest she was lying. Her eyes drifted longingly to the space in the bed next to him, he still had not moved the covers back unsure as to whether he was going to bed to apparently dine on ice cream alone or with company. Did she want an invitation? Wait. Yes she did. She must have be thinking that she has overstayed her welcome or that it is time to go as nothing about today was really planned except the bath and ice cream though it was likely to be very last minute and only took effect when she had left his bedside.

"Would you care to join me?"

She instantly brightened and settled down next to him, he considered himself an excellent reader and studier of people and he had come to examine Hermione very closely over the past months and he knew when she was lying, at this moment she was tired, slightly aroused and relieved. He had little time to ponder the meanings of her behaviour as a spoon of ice cream was pushed gently into his face, Hermione was holding the spoon and did not look like she was going to let go any time soon. It was a touch unorthodox but being fed could be enjoyable.

"Here to soothe your throat."

He gingerly opened his mouth and licked the ice cream of the spoon. It tasted like normal vanilla ice cream in fact it must have been edible as she took a spoonful for herself licking from the same spoon. He chuckled this was why the bowl was so large, she wanted to come to bed and feed him ice cream and funnily enough he could see nothing wrong with that.

"Mmm vanilla. My favourite."

She let out a giggle as he leant in and kissed her biting down on that luscious bottom lip for entry that she quickly gave, each tongue battling for dominance tasting the faint hint of vanilla in each other's mouth. With a sigh she broke back leaning against his side placing the bowl on the bed between them, and then she continued to feed them both the ice cream before sleep slowly claimed them both.

~8~

He looked at all the other people talking and dancing around the large ballroom at the Minister's residence and shook his head the fact they were expending so much effort on such political nonsense was a shame. He was like last year only invited because of his cheque book he was not donating anything tonight there was nothing that this hotbed of political sharks could do that was worth his name or his money. There was a time when he thought he would be here collecting and currying favours that would be necessary for Hermione's political career but that was gone now. He walked to the bar and ordered two whiskey and gingers and carried them out on to the terrace, he realised with a polite smile that he was not alone here on the terrace. He gently placed the two tumblers down onto the low wall and pushed one across so it rested at the elbow of an average looking brunette with rather bad hair looking like she wanted to be somewhere else. He took the time to look out over the magnificent garden below them that was currently in full bloom he looked at his silent companion from the corner of his eyes and watched as the bad hair Witch wearing periwinkle dress robes sipped at her whiskey and ginger. He removed an ornate silver cigarette case from his pocket and snapped the box open he looked almost mournfully at the box for a moment before placing a small white mint in his mouth.

"It was a year ago that we were first here and now here we are again."

He said plainly. It was not quite his automatic reply for the evening but it was well suited for the current situation he found himself in.

"Then it is fortuitous that you are what I seek."

The Witch replied casting a discrete or what would have been discrete if she was with anyone else air freshening charm.

"No one asked you to stand here. If the air is not to your liking there are other options available."

He said placing another small mint between his lips and stared at the view in front of him letting all his anger and restlessness leave him as he closed once and for all one specific bleak spot inside of him.

"Maybe I want to stand here. Maybe this is the only spot that satisfies my terrace requirements."

She snapped back. He furrowed his brows and focused on sucking the mint he watched her discretely under the guise of watching two birds flutter around a bush in the garden below. It occurred to him that he had enough of making assumptions for one lifetime he snapped open another cigarette case pushed the open case into her field of vision.

"Why certainly."

She said removing the ring from the box and placing it on her finger. And today one of the Ministry balls that he had no desire to attend became the background to one of the happier days of his life and the day Hermione Granger agreed to marry him.

~8~

He was awoken by Hermione's soft body shifting against him as she rolled over and placed a soft long kiss against his lips. He could never tire from those lips of the pleasure that every touch and kiss brought to him. He sighed as she got up and left him, the bed feeling cold now she was no longer beside him, but this was not a moment of sadness just a momentary set back that had him appreciating what they did have together. He sat up arranging the pillows to support his back and relaxed into their softness and smiled as Hermione crept back to bed she looked so lovely wearing one of his nightshirts however modified said nightshirt maybe.

"Happy Birthday Lucius."

She said softly as she handed him a bundle of blankets containing his tiny new born son Cicero. He carefully took his perfect baby boy and held him in his arm as he and Hermione rested against the pillows. He exhaled heavily content to just look into the deep brown eyes of his son a lazy finger stroked the soft downy blonde hair on the top of his head. He could not really ask for a better birthday present and was for once in his life grateful for the Ministry summer balls, his political career maybe long over and he was still too conservative for current trends of Wizarding life and politics but if they gave him Hermione, Draco and Cicero he was prepared to stay for a second drink.

"I couldn't ask for a better sixtieth birthday present."

~Fin~

Authors Note: I wanted to this to come across as much more real than my first piece and I hope I succeeded. If not then I thank everyone for reading this fic and extra thanks to those who decide to review.

zxxyxxz 27/10/2012