As Hermione lay in her bed, she contemplated Lucius Malfoy. Well, she tried to keep her mind on his offer, but she couldn't help herself from thinking about the way he had pressed his body to hers, the way his icy-gray eyes had travelled down to the swell of her breasts as she breathed. Her breath quickened where she lay in bed, and Hermione slapped herself mentally. He's a death eater, Hermione admonished herself. Even if he does arouse me more than any other human being I have ever encountered, Hermione thought before she could stop herself. She rolled her eyes at her own foolishness and drifted off to sleep, still thinking idly of the fire that had ignited in the pit of her stomach at Lucius's touch.
Hermione spent the next week sitting her desk in the Department of Mysteries, thinking about Lucius Malfoy and his offer. It intrigued her, admittedly, for what could the magic possibly be that Lucius Malfoy, one of Voldemort's most praised death eaters, could not take care of it without Ministry assistance? Of course, she mused, it could all be a trap to get me to his house alone so he can torture and kill me. But why would he go through so much trouble, coming to my office and requesting my help, when he could have easily captured me down some dark alley somewhere? Why would he seek me out like this if he's only going to kill me like an animal come for slaughter? Hermione decided, over the course of the week, that she would accept Lucius Malfoy's proposition. By the time Sunday night rolled around, Hermione was nearly panting with anticipation of the next morning. She almost had herself convinced that it was only because of the thrill and challenge of confronting mysterious magic, but who was she fooling? She knew on a deeper, more primal level that it was the memory of his eyes on her face and the press of his body against hers which had her so excited.
Hermione tried to fall asleep but ended up lying in bed, tossing and turning at the thought of Lucius. She must have drifted off eventually, for she awoke again at 3:00 in the morning, her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat. She had had another dream, only this time she had fallen into Lucius's silver-blue eyes and had been drowning, before a pair of strong, pale hands came and grasped her arms with a touch like fire, bringing her out of the coldness of Lucius's eyes. The fire had spread until she had been consumed by it, her body twisting and turning until she found those pools of cool ice again and had been submerged in them. Hermione's dreaming mind flip-flopped between those two realities, shunting her naked body from ice to fire and back again. When she awoke in the wee hours of the morning she was panting, and knew that she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep.
Hermione stood from her bed and padded down the hallway and into the kitchen of her flat, where she heated some water with a quick spell and dropped a soothing chamomile teabag into it. Muggle tea had always been her guilty pleasure, although her friends and coworkers had always laughed at her love for "hot water with bits of leaves soaked in it," as they described it. Witches and wizards did drink tea, but it was always far more potent and sugary than that of the muggles.
Hermione settled in an armchair in her living room with her mug of tea and a good book, waiting for the sun to rise. When the first tinges of pink were just peeking over the treetops, Hermione snapped her book shut and, yawning, went to her bathroom. She lit a couple of candles and turned on the tap, filled it with hot water and sweet-smelling bubble bath. Reclining into the warm suds, Hermione allowed her mind to wander, and was not surprised when it ended up on Lucius. She tried to keep her mind strictly on matters of business, but could not help it when she began to dwell on the sweep of his long, blond hair over his shoulders and the strength of his arms beneath the clinging fabric of his black shirt.
Hermione started when she realized that her bath was going cold, and quickly got out and toweled herself off. She applied her usual makeup and an average outfit, before donning the same uncharacteristically high heels that she had worn on the day Lucius had first confronted her in the office. When there were three minutes until 8:00, Hermione pulled out her wand, turned on the spot, and disapparated, reappearing before the high cast-iron gate in front of Malfoy Manor. She shivered, remembering how she had been brought there by a gang of snatchers and tortured before their lucky escape.
"Cold, Miss Granger?" a voice drawled from behind her. Hermione gasped and spun around, feeling as though her stomach were in freefall. Lucius Malfoy was there, leaning against the tall hedge surrounding the road. Her eyes travelled up and down the length of his body before she could stop herself. He wasn't wearing his usual sweeping black robes, but a pair of carefully pressed black trousers and a silky-looking shirt that clung to every contour of Lucius's clearly well-muscled chest. Heat seemed to spread up from the collar of her shirt, making her uncomfortable.
"No, I'm actually rather hot," Hermione said unconsciously, before blushing. Lucius Malfoy raised an eyebrow and smirked, before uncrossing his arms and tapping the lock on the gate with his wand. The gate swung open with a creak and Lucius stepped inside, gesturing for Hermione to follow him. She did, her heels clacking noisily on the cobblestones.
A wind sprung up, tossing Hermione's hair about her face. An eerie whistling noise seemed to come from the very house itself. Lucius paused and rolled his eyes, before turning to face the house.
"No," he announced loudly, although Hermione could see no one. "Miss Granger here is not one of my sexual conquests, nor do I plan for her to be in the immediate future."
