Malfoy Manor stood regal and intimidating as ever it had been before Hermione Granger. After the club closed, she had joined the wizard outside, her flatmate giving her a reproachful look as she left with the man. She wanted to change her mind, to pretend he was just a dream, but beside her he felt so vital, so alive with magic that seemed to draw her in. Down an alley some blocks away, his hand had found it's way to the small of her back and his lips met hers once again. When he pulled away, he had kept his hand on her back and she suddenly felt the uncomfortable squeeze of apparition.

He led her through imposing front doors, which opened at his approach, and she obliged him, but froze when they reached the foyer. She waited for it to come - the vast ocean of emotions waiting to drown her, to punish her for her audacity to enter this house again. They did not come.

Lucius guided her up an ornately wrought staircase and down one of the wings. The magnitude and elegance of his manor were overwhelming; surely she had never previously been in a position to appreciate it. Exquisite paintings, both enchanted and traditional, lined the halls punctuated by grand sculptures. Hermione almost felt as though she were in the midst of a museum tour instead of roaming someone's personal home. Towards the end of the hall, they came to a stop before intricate mahogany doors.

"These will be your rooms." Lucius gestured her into a grand suite, but did not cross the threshold himself. Instead he leaned leisurely in the door frame, arms folded across his chest, as the young witch explored the room. Everything was immaculate, and she quickly fell in love with the art nouveau style it was decorated in. The attached bathroom did not disappoint. When her eyes finally came to rest back on him she found his body language strangely casual.

"And you? Where do you sleep?" Hermione asked while removing her heels.

"My quarters are in the west wing."

"I see."

"You almost sound disappointed, Miss Granger. Consider it presumptuous if you must, but I thought it likely you'd desire rooms furthest from my own."

"I see." Lucius' eyes narrowed at her lack of elaboration, but he didn't reprimand her.

"Would you care to see where I rest?"

"Yes."

The wizard preceded her to the opposite end of his manor. Emotions began to inundate her, not due to the acts that had taken place there years ago during the war, but because of how unsure she was of what was expected of her now. By accepting his offer, what had she bound herself to? Resolutely, she decided she could always leave and that he had no means to force her to stay.

At the other end of Malfoy Manor, Hermione found herself in Lucius' bedroom. She was initially rendered speechless by the stark contrast with the rest of the manor. She had expected him to have a more Victorian room the product of centuries of Malfoy patriarchs or even comparable to some of the darker wizard dwellings she had seen in books, but was instead met with a tastefully modern design.

"I assumed you would have a very...traditional bedroom," Hermione voiced as she ran her fingers along the clean black lines of his dresser.

"I did, but the antiquity began to feel stale. After my divorce, I refurnished the whole room and relocated the pieces I kept to guest bedrooms."

"I see," The witch murmured as she continued her slow pacing around the room. She found the design admirable, but also felt a certain coldness exuded by the harsh angularity that reflected the owner astutely. Eventually she came to a stop before him. "Exactly what are you expecting from me, Malfoy? Visiting me week after week, asking me here, what for?"

"Does it matter? Perhaps I don't provide a satisfactory answer, then what?"

"Why do you have to be so evasive?"

"Because you came here under no one's decision but your own. Clearly my reasons and expectations aren't relevant in your choice."

"I could just go back, you know." Lucius let out a small chuckle, a deep, breathy sound that startled Hermione with the humanity of it.

"Really? You'd choose parading around half-naked in front of new men every night, crass muggle men, over me and what I have the means to provide? Over the magic you so inadvertently inherited?"

"It's always possible, I have nothing keeping me here. Do not believe for a moment that your money can buy me."

"Oh, but it already has, my dear." Lucius closed the distance between them and brought her into a fervent kiss, but Hermione quickly pulled away.

"I'm not yours. I'm not a trophy or a possession for your collection." The edges of Lucius lips pulled up ever so slightly as he responded.

"Perhaps. You may go now, Miss Granger."

"No."

"Refusing my dismissal? Not your wisest choice."

"You brought me here, but you don't get to simply dismiss me at will." Hermione glared at him, unsure of what she was doing, but certain that she shouldn't comply with his every whim, despite the compulsion she felt to do so upon entering his house. He seemed to be studying her with muted curiosity.

"So...you wish to stay here...interesting. Tell me, how do you think of me?"

Hermione was puzzled by his question and the general back and forth of their conversation. It was late, likely approaching four, and he was asking her opinion of him, the one thing he should be well aware of without her verbalizing it. Then she noticed him remove his blazer to reveal a tailored white button up.

"Well, Miss Granger?" He inquired as he unbuttoned his cuffs. His steely eyes glanced briefly from his task and she finally responded.

"You're a privileged, arrogant bloodline purist who was lucky to be born into old money. You have little regard for anybody other than yourself and seem to pledge allegiance to the darkest groups imaginable, provided there's something in it for you with minimal risk involved. In your favour, you are an exceptionally talented wizard, but that does little to balance your appalling actions or unsubstantiated prejudices."

"A shrewd observation if rather negative. Now the real question is, if none of your closest friends managed to bring you back to this world, why return for someone you've fixed such harsh judgement upon?" Lucius had begun unbuttoning his shirt and Hermione found it difficult to reply immediately.

"I haven't returned per se. You found me, but no one else knows if I'm even still alive."

"You've missed the point of the question. Regardless, your sentiment sounds...liberating." Lucius removed his shirt and Hermione couldn't help admiring the sculpted chest she was staring at. He took the necessary steps to close the distance between them before continuing. "You know, there's a few other things I find to be rather liberating."

"Malfoy..."

"You've been dancing for me for weeks. You're in my house and wished to see my bedroom. You agreed to come here, do you really want to deny me or do you just enjoy the chase?"

She said nothing and suddenly his lips were on her neck as he unzipped her jacket. Deft hands quickly slid the garment off and her jeans soon followed. He took a small step back to appreciate the outfit she had been wearing for work. She was in an emerald green and he found the colour particularly alluring on her. For the first time, her hands began exploring him entirely, gliding over the taut muscles of his chest.

"You're already hard," She murmured when her hand grazed over his groin. He let out a small laugh.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to fuck you tonight."

"And why is that?"

"Because you don't want it yet...but you will."

"What if I said did?" Hermione gasped as the wizard picked her up and tossed her onto his bed. The scent of him on his sheets was intoxicating and only magnified when the man himself crawled on top of her. She felt his cock hard against her thigh and his hand came up to grab her breast. She could barely breathe as his eyes bored into her.

"I recommend you do not play with me, mudblood." She stared at him defiantly, but said nothing. Instead, she brought a hand up to cup the sizeable bulge in his trousers. His eyes narrowed infinitesimally and he murmured a spell under his breath, leaving her bare under his fingers.

His right hand swiftly headed south and Hermione arched into him when he reached his destination. His thumb began rubbing the flesh where her thighs met then Hermione felt the pleasure of a finger slipped inside her, stroking perfectly. The witch groaned and Lucius smirked before moving down to her breasts and taking a hard nipple between his lips. He sucked and nibbled while adding another finger inside her and all she could do is moan in response. His ministrations were impeccable as he moved to her other breast and his fingers kept drawing out her pleasure.

"You are so wet for me," He groaned as he released a nipple. She could feel her climax nearing and knew he could read it on her face, his eyes never leaving hers. "Come for me, witch, I want to see you come." His fingers rubbed over the little nub between her thighs with just enough pressure and it was though fireworks went off in her body. Every muscle in her body felt on fire with pleasure and for a moment she forgot who she was and who she was with, simply revelling in the sensations from her body.

When she came down from her high, Malfoy lay staring at her, still only half-naked. Slowly she reached for him, but he grabbed her wrist in protest.

"Not tonight," He voiced as he relinquished his grip.

"You asked me here, why don't you want me?"

"Listen to me: Not tonight. Now go to sleep." He whispered a spell that submerged the room in darkness. Hermione turned away from the wizard, bemused by his actions, and was further startled when she felt him move closer and drape an arm over her. She didn't know what she was doing, but in that moment she didn't care and drifted off to sleep.

It was the height of self-destruction, waking up in Lucius Malfoy's bed. Never mind the booze or the pills or the line of work she had found herself in, Hermione could not imagine anything worse than waking up next to a Death Eater. She had been so ambivalent with him; she hated him and everything he stood for, but felt enamoured with how forbidden, how explicitly wrong being with him was. Then there were the feelings she had towards herself - how she had already played the good girl during the war and now she revelled in doing whatever she wanted, but how getting involved with Lucius Malfoy ended up being part of that she did not know. All she knew was she seemed to be making a trail of progressively stupider decisions.

The sun was just rising as she delicately extracted herself from the wizard's sheets. She had only slept a few hours at most, but couldn't bear to stay. Wordlessly, she got dressed, and before Lucius awoke, Hermione had apparated herself back to London. Then, standing in the alley outside her flat, she retched violently, sickened by the man whose hands she let roam her body, sickened by this person who slept with the man who would've killed her if given the chance just a few years ago.

She managed to make it to her room without waking Rhea and she thanked God for little blessings. The momentary bliss was quickly extinguished as she remembered the reality that was her life. She was back in muggle London, no better and certainly much worse than before, and she still took her clothes off for strangers to make ends meet. This was her life now and after her encounter with Lucius Malfoy, she definitely wasn't ready to change.

Taking a couple of her Norco pills chased with a healthy glass of wine, Hermione savoured the numbness spreading through her body. The thoughts of Malfoy ebbed and she closed her eyes, willing the thoughts to vanish entirely. She lay on her bed as early morning light danced across her form. Then she stopped breathing.

I assure you, this most certainly is not the end. Thank you all so much for the reviews, they really are quite encouraging. Cheers.