Here's chapter two for you!

Thank you for all the lovely reviews and comments. It is nice to be able to say hello again to some familiar names and also to some new ones as well! Can I say a special thank you to those unregistered and anonymous reviewers whom I cannot get in touch with personally. A special mention goes to Susan (dogwoodfarm) who, in the last few weeks alone, has reviewed just about every chapter of every story I have written- THANK YOU - that is truly beyond the call of duty and greatly appreciated!

Anyhow - hope you all enjoy what is to come ... LL xxx


The regular tedium of everyday life ensured that the events of the reception were soon largely forgotten. The following weeks passed in similar form. Rose went to nursery two mornings a week, giving Hermione time alone with Hugo, which she appreciated. Routine took over again, and her moments of panic at the suffocating nature of her life were few and far between.

Hermione found herself slipping back into the predictable persona of smiling contented mother. She chatted amicably to other mothers about the benefits of baby yoga and engaged in apparently (judging on the energy levels employed) stimulating discussions on how to ensure a place at the best school around. It seemed so normal, everyone was so similar, that Hermione generally forgot for a time to question its validity. Even if she had wanted to, her life was so full of frantic triviality, that she did not have the time to do so.

She did not stop to think that her issues were not being solved, simply being masked over by further layers of the same problem.

But, as tended to happen from time to time, the pressure cooker of her life was threatening to explode once again.

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Thus Hermione found herself, several weeks after the reception, on a shopping trip.

She had visited muggle London and then gone on to Diagon Alley. Hugo was in his hoverchair, a device similar to a pushchair or stroller, but instead of wheels, it simply hovered over the ground, allowing it to be easily manoeuvred around the streets. When in muggle areas, wheels descended to make it appear like any other muggle stroller, but now, safely within the magical world, it hummed around the streets a foot or so above the ground, swaying erratically due to the huge weight of shopping Hermione had piled onto the handles. Rose was under strict instructions to hold onto it.

Hermione was struggling. She wished she could simply apparate away to the house now. Unfortunately, apparating with young children was not recommended, and besides, she had too much stuff to enable it successfully. She had bought far more than she had intended and a slight sense of panic started to well up in her as to how exactly she was going to get home. Ron was not back until later and she knew of no-one in the vicinity that she could call on to help her out. She realised she may even have to take the muggle bus, or even waste money on a muggle taxi.

A group of witches hurried past her and knocked some of the shopping off the handles of the hoverchair. They moved on unaware.

"Thanks a lot!" Hermione could not help calling loudly and sarcastically after them. She was forced to stop in the middle of Diagon Alley and try to pick up the bags. Hugo started to cry and Rose looked suspiciously as if she was about to scamper off into the crowds.

"Don't move, Rose. Mummy just has to pick up her things. Stay next to me."

The crowds were getting worse, and the feeling of panic inside Hermione started to build inexorably.

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Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway of Twilfitt and Tatting's watching this little scene unfold. He was up in London for a few days on business and had stopped by Diagon Alley for a book he had been meaning to buy for some time. He found it curious that he should see the Granger girl so soon after the reception, so soon after she had invaded his thoughts so powerfully. He did not believe in fate, but even he could not ignore the significance of the moment.

He had in fact spotted her several minutes before, and had followed her discreetly, wondering if the feelings he had felt at the reception would be as strong again. They were.

The test of his emotions had been a mere technicality. He had thought about the girl every day since that night. He had almost immediately given up trying to drown her from his mind. He knew there was only one way to do that. And so he instead expended his energy on planning how he could see her again, how he could achieve his aim.

Strangely enough, this chance encounter in Diagon Alley was entirely fortuitous. He had no idea she would be there today.

He now hung back, absorbing the sight before him.

The mudblood was clearly getting distressed. The situation was fast starting to overwhelm her. For a moment Malfoy could not move, did not want to. It was intriguing to him to see this woman, whom he normally witnessed so in command of a situation, coming apart before him.

He hardly noticed the two children with her, the chaos of the bags and clothes falling around, all he saw was the woman herself, her hair coming undone and cascading in frantic curls over her face, her cheeks flushed through exertion and concern, her lips swollen and deep red with the increase in her blood flow.

She looked utterly delectable.

The feelings which had hurtled to the surface at the reception, the feelings he could not deny, now reinforced themselves with desperate potency, physical and emotional. His mind and body reeled. The image before him, which to anyone else was simply a picture of mundane familial chaos, was exquisite.

He knew he would approach her. She presented him with the perfect opportunity. Did he actually care about her welfare or that of her children? He was not sure. Considering who she was, and who the father of the children was, he thought it very unlikely. Still, as he stepped out of the doorway, he found his thoughts forming into an expression of concern, which even to him, felt remarkably genuine.

"Miss Granger. May I offer you some assistance?"

Hermione looked up from her position doubled up over the bags, her hair dangling so as to mask her view of the man standing before her. But this time she recognised the voice instantly. Hermione was surprised with the sudden, undeniable relief that swept through her. She convinced herself that this would have occurred no matter who had approached her. The fact that it was Lucius Malfoy was of no import, surely.

Still, although she was immensely pleased to be approached by anyone she recognised, her pride did not allow her to acknowledge him, and she lowered herself to her task again, ignoring his intervention.

Lucius smiled to himself at her predictable reaction. He found it strangely satisfying that she still found his presence objectionable. That was how it should be, was it not?

Still, he did not, could not turn from her and found himself saying, "You are clearly in need of succour." He smirked at his deliberate choice of word. He had said it with such sensual aplomb. "How can I help?" As much as he wished to deny it, he knew he meant his words.

"I am perfectly alright, thank you." Hermione spoke through gritted teeth, trying desperately to reassemble and balance the bags on the hoverchair, which was lurching drunkenly under the weight. Hugo was becoming increasingly distressed.

"You are clearly far from alright. Here, allow me." With that he reached out and took the bags from her grasp. She held them back; he tried to tug them from her. His fingers ended up encircled over hers. Hermione looked down at the point of contact, not alarmed, merely curious. His touch was remarkably warm and firm, but not threatening.

Strange, she thought, he feels completely human. Had she been expecting something else?

They both froze. Lucius too was entirely focused on the feel of her soft, tender, but surprisingly strong fingers under his. How odd that such a tiny hand should exude such confidence.

After what must have been several long seconds where they both stood still, staring at their conjoined hands, Hermione at last came to her senses and whispered low but ferociously to him, "Don't touch me."

He did not remove his hand, and slowly her eyes raised to meet his. Like that night at the reception, she immediately felt as if she was drowning in the expanse of grey that met her. Hermione noticed too, for the first time, his high cheekbones, his smooth porcelain-like skin. She felt a violent twist in her belly and wondered for a moment if she would faint. She furrowed her brows in an attempt to refocus her mind, but still could not look away. Neither could he.

Lucius stared into her brown orbs, enthralled by the depth and intelligence he saw there. Never, in anyone, pureblood or otherwise, had he seen anything like it. He inhaled deeply and smelt her. Her perfume, citrus but with deeply sensuous undertones, rose up to him, enhanced by the glow of perspiration which was caught in the indentation at the base of her neck. His hand tightened on hers. She did not pull back.

Then suddenly something snapped in Hermione's mind. Her mother's instincts overrode all other emotions and she darted her eyes away from his.

"Where's Rose? Where's my little girl?"

Rose was no longer by the hoverchair. There was no sign of her anywhere. Hermione looked around in panic. The crowds were heavy and oppressive. Rose could have gone anywhere, could have been taken anywhere. She at last pulled her hands away from Lucius'. A cold sweat broke out over Hermione's body and she cried out, spinning desperately around, her hand clasped to her forehead. "Rose! Rose?!"

Lucius picked up all her belongings and moved them to the side of the street. With a flick of his hand, he brought the hoverchair to rest beside them. He held Hermione's arm and guided her over to stand next to them. This time, she did not notice his touch.

"Stay there," he said firmly. With that he disappeared into the crowds, his tall form moving fluidly through the throng of people, which seemed to part instinctively for him.

Hermione could do nothing. She could not leave Hugo, but for some strange reason, she had confidence in the blond wizard whom she found herself with. She raised herself up on tiptoes, searching over the heads of the crowds, the occasional sob or cry for her daughter emanating from her.

And then, after what seemed an age, but in reality was only a minute or so, she saw them.

Malfoy was striding towards her, Rose clasped tightly in his arms.

Tears of relief tumbled down Hermione's cheeks. As they approached, she could not help but notice that Rose seemed remarkably calm in his arms, and that he looked very at ease carrying her.

She managed not to abandon Hugo to run out to them, but as soon as they were close, she grabbed Rose out of his arms and clasped her so tight her daughter struggled to get away.

"Don't you ever ever do that again, do you understand? What on earth do you think you were doing?"

"I was bored. You were looking at the man."

Hermione blushed scarlet and guilt flooded her. She took it out on Rose, raising her voice loudly. "Don't you know what could have happened? You could have got lost from Mummy for a long long time. A bad man could have taken you away."

Rose looked up at Lucius and pointed to him. "He's not a bad man. He found me."

Hermione suddenly remembered what Lucius had done. No matter how else she thought of him, he had found her child quickly and calmly. She stood up, almost unable to meet his eyes again, partially due to embarrassment, partially due to the fear that she would be unable to look away.

"Thank you," she mumbled, softly but genuinely. "Had she gone far?"

"Not really. She was looking in the sweetshop window. And now, Miss Granger, I think it best that we get you home."

She tried once again to put him off, but sounded far from convincing. "I'm sure I can manage."

"Oh, I find that highly unlikely. I doubt very much that you will allow me to discover your address, so may I suggest this. You take your children home. I will apparate from here to my London home with your shopping. I am staying there at the moment. At a convenient time, you may come over to my house and take your belongings. You should be able to apparate them away in two trips, I should imagine."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest.

"Oh really, Miss Granger, believe me, what interest do I have in ..." he glanced into one of her bags, "nappies and ... 'Music and Art in Europe Between the Wars'?" He raised his eyebrows slightly as he read the title on the spine of the book she had purchased, but his meaning was clear.

Hermione felt distinctly uncomfortable. She did not particularly want to know where Lucius Malfoy lived. But as she looked down again at her dejected children, and the piles of bags now clutched in the wizard's hands, she could only give in.

She sighed deeply. "Alright then. I'll take these two on the tube and then I'll have to get someone to watch them, so it may take a couple of hours. Where do you live?" She took out some paper to write it down.

"23 St James' Gardens, Kensington."

"Flat number?"

"There is none. I own the entire house."

She looked up in amazement. A whole townhouse in Kensington would be worth tens of million at least. He was smirking a little. She tried to hide her expression.

"Right. Thank you. I shall see you as soon as I can."

"I look forward to it with anticipation, Miss Granger."

She glanced up at him. His smirk had broadened. Her belly twisted again. She lowered her head, held Rose tightly in her hand and manoeuvred the hoverchair away and out of Diagon Alley.

Lucius Malfoy stood looking after her retreating form. Things were proceeding very smoothly indeed. The wheels were well and truly in motion. There was nothing he could do to stop them, even if he had wanted to.

In any case, he now knew full well that he had no desire to stop them.

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It took Hermione over half an hour to get the children home on the underground, and then a further hour to arrange for them to go and play at a friend's house for a while. It was always necessary for them to go over to someone else's house, as their friends were invariably muggles and could not be allowed to find out about their wizarding background. It was easier to maintain the charade if they did not visit the house. She dropped them off at her friend, Kate's, and promised to be back as soon as she could.

Hermione had returned home, taken out her wand, and then, with a sigh conveying her confusion and amazement at where she was apparating to, she disappeared.

She arrived dizzily in a private residents' garden in front of a row of grand white west London townhouses. Luckily, the garden was densely wooded, and she had appeared behind a bush, well out of sight of anyone. She looked up. She was standing almost directly in front of number twenty three. It was a tall, beautiful Georgian house, spread over four floors and a basement. She was not sure if it was enchanted or not, but no one batted an eyelid as she walked up the steps and after a moment's pause, rang the doorbell.

As she waited, she noticed her pulse quickening. She also wondered momentarily what she looked like. Apparition was never good for the hair.

She shook off the silly idea. What did it matter what she looked like? Still, her hands instinctively came up to smooth down her unruly locks.

She heard heavy footsteps approaching. The door opened. Lucius himself stood behind it, looking down on her with an expression approaching mild amusement. She was surprised; she had been expecting a house-elf.

His smile widened a little and he held the door open for her. "Do come in."

Hermione stepped over the threshold. Malfoy led her through a large hallway with a long, broad staircase, into a grand reception room, lavishly, but tastefully decorated. She glanced around, immediately noticing a landscape on one of the walls.

"Gosh, that's beautiful. In the style of Turner; it's just like him. Who's it by?"

"Turner."

She turned to him in amazement. His faint smirk was clearly discernible.

"May I get you a drink?"

Hermione wanted to say no, but she had not stopped since the confusion in Diagon Alley and realised that she was parched.

"Thank you. Just a glass of water."

"Are you sure? I have real lemonade."

It sounded perfect. Again, the man had judged her needs. "Alright. Thank you."

"Excuse me a moment. Please sit down." He left the room.

Hermione glanced around nervously, noticing many beautiful antiques and works of art. She waited. She did not sit.

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Lucius Malfoy went to his kitchen. He did not normally employ a house-elf when alone in London. It was unnecessary. He invariably dined out, and quite enjoyed the rare moments when he had to make a small snack for himself. He took out a glass and went to the fridge to get the lemonade.

He was being remarkably pleasant to the Granger girl. He knew what he wanted from her, what he needed in order to dismiss her from his mind once and for all. But he was in no hurry. He needed her to be ready. If it was only to be once, as he believed was all that was needed, then he would ensure it was perfect.

Was he being civil only in order to seduce her? He wasn't entirely sure he was. It struck him that his concern for her well-being was remarkably genuine.

Did he even have a plan of seduction as such? He nearly laughed aloud as he asked himself the question. It sounded ludicrous. It had been many years since he had practised the art of seduction, and he had never had to work very hard at it as it was. Women had always seemed more than willing to succumb to him, especially when they saw his house. And even recently, when he had expended no intentional energy on his attractiveness, he knew there would never have been much resistance. Indeed, he could think of several occasions when he was the one doing the resisting. He sneered as he recalled encounters with some quite desperate women over the years, many of them close friends of his wife.

No, the Granger girl would provide him with a completely different challenge. It filled him with a strange excitement to think of how she would resist him.

He could not recall the last time he had had a mudblood in his house. In fact, he did not believe he ever had. Why should he have? He stood for a moment, half-expecting a sense of horror to overcome him and to rush to her and kick her out into the street immediately. He did not.

He poured himself a glass of lemonade to accompany hers and took them both through.

Hermione was standing awkwardly when he came back into the room and took the glass he offered her.

"Thank you."

"Do sit down."

She finally did so.

They sat in silence for a moment. Hermione could not quite believe where she was and who she was with. Yet she did not feel threatened, or even particularly awkward. Her sense of decency returned and she spoke suddenly. "Thank you for what you did earlier, with Rose. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there."

"You would have found her. She had not gone far. At moments like that, time slows to an agonising crawl; every second is magnified. I recall a moment with Draco at a Quidditch match. He must have been no more than three. He wondered off while I was focusing on the match. I lost him for quite some time, it must have been nearly an hour. Eventually, I found him far beyond the ground, digging for worms in a meadow. The feeling of panic and anxiety while I was looking for him was one I will never forget, and rarely experienced again, even at some of my darkest moments." His eyes glazed over for a while as he recalled the memory.

Hermione looked at him keenly, touched by the nature of his account. For the second time that day she was reminded of his humanity. She wondered if it was a deliberate ploy by him to soften her perception of him. She drew herself up and drank some lemonade.

"I must go soon. I said I would not be long."

"Is ... your husband with the children?"

"No. They're at a friend's house." She took another sip. "Ron is not at home." She wasn't sure why she had told him that.

"I see."

"He will be back later tonight. But he's away a lot at the moment." Another sip. "Are you returning to your ... other home ... soon?"

"I go back to the Manor tomorrow. I come up to London every other week for a few days. Business. It focuses the mind to stay here. Narcissa rarely joins me. She never stays in this house."

Silence. Both were aware that they had told each other an awful lot about their domestic arrangements and the movements of their spouses.

"You must allow me to show you the library before you go. Of course, most of the collection is at the Manor, but I have a respectable selection here."

"Oh, don't worry."

"I'm sure you would find it interesting and ... stimulating."

She knew he had chosen his words carefully. There was little that was stimulating in her life at the moment. She was tempted.

"Just for a moment then."

He led her upstairs. She hesitated, unnerved by the fact that she was following Lucius Malfoy up the stairs of his private house, but found her feet bearing her upwards. He opened a door on the first landing into a room covered from floor to ceiling in bookshelves. The shelves were lined with endless volumes, mostly ancient leather bound ones. Hermione could not stop her mouth opening in wonder. Never had she seen anything like it in private hands.

"Of course, this is only the tip of the ice-berg. The most impressive volumes are in the Manor."

Hermione was walking around in shock. "This will do," she mumbled.

He smiled.

Hermione walked along the shelves, her fingers lightly running along the spines of the books in awe. Lucius watched as her mudblood hands scanned his priceless possessions. He should object, should he not? Instead, he found himself fascinated by the sight. He could recall no-one displaying such a genuine and intense interest in his library before. He did not think Narcissa had ever even been in the room. The sight of this immaculate girl so enthralled by something belonging to him enchanted him immeasurably.

Hermione suddenly stopped and gasped, pulling a book off the shelf. "'Bede's Principles on Sorcery and Bewitchment'. I can't believe you have this! It hasn't been seen for hundreds of years. No-one thought there were any copies left."

Lucius raised his eyebrows and shrugged slightly. "I have no awareness of that book or its significance."

She laughed at him in astonishment. He thought it a beautiful sight.

Hermione opened the book carefully and pored over the words. "How wonderful. God, I'd love to be able to read this. I've heard so much about it, I can't tell you. It is just ... incredible." Her eyes were alight.

"You may borrow it if you wish."

She spun to him, her face lighting up. Then she suddenly remembered who he was, and how she should not be contemplating seeing him again. Her features dropped. "Oh, that's OK. It's nice just to know there is a copy still out there somewhere." Reluctantly, she started to return the book to the shelf.

"I insist. You may bring it back when you so desire. There is no rush."

Hermione stood firm for a moment, then glancing at the book still in her hands once again, she knew she would give in. She held it tight and turned to him. "Thank you. I'll look after it, don't worry. I'll get it back to you as soon as I can."

He merely smiled.

Hermione glanced at her watch. "Oh god, look at the time. I really have to go. Do you have my shopping?" She had practically forgotten the reason she was there.

"Yes, of course. Come with me."

He led her downstairs again, into a large kitchen towards the rear of the house. It had a remarkably welcoming, homely feel to it. Hermione almost wished she could stay longer. On the floor were her bags of shopping.

"Thank you. I'll do it in two goes."

"Apparition can be disorientating. Three trips in quick succession may make you ill. I could take half for you, if you wish."

She froze. Would it be so bad to let him know where she lived? She looked up into his eyes. All the time she had been in his house, despite their relaxed and comfortable conversation, she had avoided too much eye-contact with him. Now she met his gaze again. Instantly her insides flipped as they had earlier. It was becoming harder to ignore the reason why.

He stared back at her. Her dark brown eyes held his steadily. He wanted to disappear into them. How could he let her go? He had behaved impeccably while she was in the house. He had wanted to. It had been ... delightful.

As their eyes burned into each other, Lucius Malfoy knew that he needed no plan. That what would happen between them would occur naturally, at the appointed time. As much as he longed for her, he would wait. She would come to him. He knew it. And when she did, it would be sublime.

And then his need would be sated. And he could move on. Forget about the mudblood for good.

Hermione suddenly lowered her gaze, inhaling sharply. "No. Thank you. It's OK. I'm used to apparition." She bent down to pick up the first lot of bags. "I'll be back in a moment."

She muttered a word while holding her wand between two spare fingers and disappeared.

Lucius was surprised by the sudden emptiness which gripped him.

He stood still in his kitchen and realised he was counting out loud.

"One ... two ... three ... four ... five ..."

The seconds ticked by. It seemed an age.

"One hundred and twenty two ... one hundred and twenty three ... one hundred and twenty f ..."

With an unsteady lurch Hermione suddenly reappeared before him. She laughed a little, and stumbled. Her hands instinctively came forward to steady herself. He reached out and caught her.

She stopped laughing, but did not remove her grip on his forearms. Neither did he. His arms were firm and well-muscled. She held them tight, enjoying their strong masculinity beneath her fingers. Again, their eyes met. Hermione's held an expression of surprise.

She felt herself slipping, her beliefs vanishing, her responsibilities fading.

No.

She looked away quickly.

Releasing the hold on his arms, she backed off.

Clearing her throat, she moved to pick up the rest of the bags. "Right. That's it then. Thank you again. I'll ... get your book back to you soon."

She glanced up at him and smiled, but avoided any deep eye-contact.

"Until next time, Miss Granger."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, remembering what had been spoken between them the last time he had said that. But she closed her mouth again with a smile and changed tack. "Until next time, Mr Malfoy."

With that, she disappeared from his kitchen with a pop.


God, that man can show me his library ANY DAY!!!

Hope you like ... let me know if you have a moment. x