Hermione barrelled through the door of her office slamming it behind her. Resting her back against the cool wood she allowed her body to slide down until her backside hit the floor. Tightening the death grip she had on her wand she closed her eyes trying desperately to calm the hammering of her heart.

That absolutely did not just happen. She told herself firmly pressing her trembling hands between her thighs in an attempt to still their shaking then furiously jerking them away when she realised that even her own inadequate touch was only adding to her undeniable arousal. Six years, she muttered, it's been six years, you shouldn't even be able to remember it this clearly. Of course she knew exactly why she remembered her encounter with Lucius Malfoy in such sparkling technicolour. It was because she took the memory out and examined it practically every night. She had even purchased her own pensive in order to take voyeuristic delight in watching herself writhing on the desk in his library.

This is not good. She continued her internal dialogue. Whilst perving over her own memories in the privacy of her own home might be just about borderline acceptable practically orgasming in the corridor at the mere sight of the man had definitely strayed into the territory of grossly inappropriate. It was also terrifying because it was the first time in six years Hermione had actually felt anything in the presence of real life male.

She had returned from Malfoy Manor to the hustle and bustle of the burrow as if nothing had happened. When the news of the Death Eater raid on the British Library had struck she had reacted with horror as her friends would expect. She had told nobody of her near involvement in the attack and it had remained her secret until she testified at Malfoy's trial following the war. Even then she had left out certain pertinent details of their encounter. The truth of the matter was that Malfoy had rescued her and set her free unharmed...well almost unharmed.

She hadn't noticed anything wrong at first. Things went south fairly quickly that summer and before long she was engaged in an interminable camping trip in the Scottish Highlands. The romance which had been blossoming between her and Ron began to falter under the pressure of horcuxes, boredom, frustration, the threat of certain death and abandonment. After the war the two of them had fallen into a relationship and it was only then that Hermione had begun to worry that something was wrong with her. She liked Ron, loved him in fact, but whenever he kissed her she felt...sort of beige. He was capable of arousing at the most a warm feeling in her stomach but nothing to compare to the searing heat that she had experienced with Lucius. She had assumed that they simply needed time and to take things further. So eventually she had succumbed to Ron's gentle pressure and taken their relationship to the next level. It had been...pleasant. No pleasant was too strong a word. After the first time it hadn't hurt and she enjoyed the cuddling afterwards, that was about as positive as she could be.

Ron had proved to be slightly more congiscent than she might have expected and had picked up on the fact that Hermione clearly didn't want him fairly quickly. It had torn their relationship apart and it taken a long time before they could be friends again. At the time Hermione had simply assumed that they were sexually incompatible.

She had always had high standards so it didn't trouble her too much when she didn't find her head even remotely turned for the next couple of years. She was healing from the war she told herself, and focussing on her career.

Then she had met him. They had met at a potions conference. Carlos was everything she could want in a man, he had the body of a quidditch player, the intellect of Professor Snape (although thankfully not the penchant for biting sarcasm), the fun loving charm of Ron and it was all topped off by a mane of white blond hair. He was perfect. The two of them became inseparable. For the entire week of the conference they sat next to each other, they ate lunch and dinner together. They lingered long into the night over just one more glass of wine. Until finally, on the last night of the conference, after a thousand stolen glances and accidental touches Carlos worked up the courage to lean in and kiss her. It should have been the defining moment in her life. There should have been crashing waves, a soaring orchestra, she should have swooned. Instead she felt...nothing. She pulled away, simply unable to believe that this perfect specimen of manhood should incite so little response in her. She threw herself at him, arms around his neck, lips pressed ardently against his almost knocking him flat with the strength of her ardour. It was all in vain.

By the time she had said a tearful goodbye to Carlos, making insincere promises to keep in touch despite the fact that both of them just wanted to get away from each other as fast as possible, she had realised the bitter and irrevocable truth. Lucius Malfoy had cursed her.

Not one to cast allegations lightly she did her research carefully. She considered Post Traumatic Stress Disorder but wrote it off almost immediately. Whilst Malfoy may have taken advantage of her innocence and youth what they had done had been entirely consensual and hugely pleasurable. Dislike him as she still might Hermione had no regrets regarding what had transpired between them. Furthermore she wasn't uncomfortable around men, she didn't freeze at the thought of sex, she just didn't find it pleasurable. Unless she was in the privacy of her own home thinking about a certain Malfoy in which case all systems appeared to be go.

She scoured the ministry library and found to her dismay that there were almost endless curses pertaining to sex. Most designed for men to ensure the fidelity of their wives. She almost got distracted at the unfairness of this and was mentally penning an angry letter to the minister of magic before she remembered that she was supposed to be engaged in personal research. Eventually she realised that her search was futile. Malfoy could very easily have cursed her to respond only to his touch and unless she knew the specific curse he had used her chances of lifting it were slim to none.

At the time of her discovery Malfoy had still been under house arrest in deepest darkest Wiltshire and Hermione had had no desire to pay another trip to Malfo Manor to insist he reverse the spell. She had buried herself in her work and accepted her lack of interest in men as an unfortunate infliction which at least allowed her to focus on moving up the ministerial ladder as rapidly as possible.

Unfortunately Lucius Malfoy had not stayed under house arrest indefinitely. All too quickly his sentence was relaxed. He was allowed to rejoin society and within what seemed to Hermione to be an obscenely short space of time he had been re-instated within polite society and finally, to her absolute chagrin, given the position as Minister for finance. A position so far exulted above Hermione's own deputy section manager that it hurt her head just thinking about it.

And today, today the final nail in the coffin of her composure had been hammered home. She had seen him coming towards her along the corridor and the very sight of him had resulted in what she could only describe as an eruption of sensation. Every one of her senses had immediately become aroused. She could smell his aftershave from the other end of the corridor. Her sensitised skin could feel the heat emanating from his body, her nipples were hardened to painful points beneath her robes and none of that was anything compared to what was going on between her legs! She had turned tail and promptly run in the opposite direction, fortunately back to her office. Any doubts she had previously held were completely crushed. He had definitely cursed her.

It did not take long before Hermione began to find her situation untenable. Malfoy had been working in the same building as her for less than a week but those short days had taken their toll both physically and mentally. She was in a constant state of arousal both sexual and mental. She constantly looked for him both longing for and dreading a glimpse of him. On the rare occasions where they were actually forced to walk past each other they studiously ignored each other. Well Hermione studiously ignored him. She suspected Malfoy didn't even notice her.

Things came to a painful head when he unwittingly entered a crowded lift at the back of which Hermione stood obscured by other ministry workers. She knew as soon as he entered the cramped space. The air around her seemed to fizz and her body erupted into urgent clamouring. She clamped her legs together and stared hard at the head of the person in front of her. The lift ascended painfully slowly, disgorging passengers on every floor until only she and Lucius were left. He was still resolutely facing forwards, she hoped, completely unaware of her presence. She tried very hard not to look at his long fingered hands clasped behind his back around the head of his snake topped cane. She tried even harder not to think about what those same fingers had done to her all those years ago but it was a losing battle and she was forced to lean her head back against the lift and practice her meditative breathing least she actually assault the man.

The lift stopped with a jolt on Hermione's floor and the shuddering motion was enough to push her fevered body over the edge. To her absolute horror she let out a strangled grasp and clutched the hand rail as her inner walls clenched and a very unwelcome orgasm ripped through her unwilling body.

Lucius did not even turn around before he exited. "Goodbye Miss Granger." His voice was coolly amused.

Hermione stood quietly and allowed the lift to take her all the way back to the ground floor rather than follow her nemesis out of the lift. She could not go on like this.

I cannot go on like this, I cannot go on like this.

She muttered the mantra as she paced back and forth in front of the closed door of Lucius Malfoy's office. It was almost six o'clock and his secretary had left for the evening some time ago. Hermione had noticed that Lucius shared her habit of working late. Perhaps he didn't have much to go home for since his wife had left him shortly after the war. Or perhaps he's busy embezzling money from the ministry, she thought nastily before resuming her pacing.

Just bloody knock. She told herself firmly and before she could lose her nerve she did just that.

At the impatient, aristocratic "Come." from inside the door. She forced herself to turn the handle and step into the office. It was much better appointed than hers she noted gazing around with jealous eyes. For some reason it was not raining outside Malfoy's enchanted window, his floor was plushly carpeted and his desk was three times the size of her own. Looking at it reminded her of another desk and she blushed furiously.

"Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"

How did he manage to make the most mundane of greetings sound like an insinuation? Hermione squirmed. She could smell the rich scent of his aftershave again, why did he have to smell so good? Perhaps that was it, perhaps all she needed to do was find the same aftershave he wore and apply it to her choice of victim in order for her to instantly find him attractive. She realised Malfoy was looking at her with poorly concealed impatience as she stood silently twisting her fingers in agitation.

"I was wondering where you got your aftershave." She blurted.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I have it specially blended by an apothecary in France. Why do you ask?"

Because I want to pour it over other men so I want to have sex with them. "I'm trying to decide what to buy my father for Christmas." It was June.

"Of course." Malfoy's face was expressionless. "Well I'm glad I could be of assistance, now if that is everything." He picked up a quill and looked down at the pile of parchment in front of him effectively dismissing her.

"No!" Hermione took a few steps further into the room and stopped again gazing uncertainly at the man before her. Malfoy put down the quill and looked up at her once more.

"I purchase my shampoo from the same apothecary Miss Granger and despite its exorbitant price I do not think even it would be a match for your…." His eyes raked over her disdainfully "… mane."

Hermione blushed again running a hand over her curls which did feel a little wilder than normal. His hair was of course as pristine as ever, she wondering what it looked like first thing in the morning and felt her blush intensify.

"Mr Malfoy." She desperately tried to take control of the situation. "I need to talk to you about what happened after you rescued me from the British Library."

That got his attention. His grey eyes lost their teasing look and he stared at her in a calculated manner. "I can assure you Miss Granger if you find yourself with child you're a few years too late to blame me."

"I am not with child!" She snapped. "And nor am I likely ever to be after what you did to me."

Malfoy looked puzzled. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Oh please." Hermione was relieved to feel rage overtaking fear as she glowered at him. "Don't deny it. You cursed me!"

"I what?" He really was a very good actor she thought. The surprise, the righteous indignation, if she hadn't know he was lying through his teeth he would have been entirely plausible.

"You cursed me." She enunciated the words slowly. "You ruined my relationship with Ron, you've ruined the last six years and I want you to lift it this minute!" To her horror and his amusement she actually stamped her foot.

"Miss Granger." Malfoy spoke slowly. "I can assure you I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."

There was silence for several moments.

He regarded her steadily over his desk. Hermione felt discomfited as if his glacial cool was absorbing the heat of her wrath, leaving her feeling foolish and juvenile. She chewed her lip.

"Mr Malfoy." She began again. "May I sit down?"

He sighed. "If you must."

She took as seat across the desk from him. "Since you kindly rescued me from the British Library I have experienced some...issues."

He remained silent. Clearly he was not going to make this easy for her. She continued, her cheeks violently red. "I find myself not able to enjoy physical proximity to members of the opposite sex."

"You are claustrophobic?" He was deliberately misunderstanding her.

"Only in a very specific sense." She looked hard out of the window. "I don't enjoy sex." She whispered.

The room remained very very silent. Eventually Hermione was forced to raise her eyes to his once more. He was staring at her his brow furrowed.

"Miss Granger are you inferring that what transpired between us left you so traumatised that you can no longer endure the touch of a man?"

"No!" She answered too quickly and had to look away again. "You know exactly what I'm inferring since you were the one who cursed me."

Malfoy continued to stare at her before steepling his fingers before him on the desk. "Miss Granger I certainly have no recollection of cursing you." He rubbed a thoughtful finger against his lips. "However those were dark times for all of us. Perhaps I did something in the heat of the moment which I have now forgotten. Why don't you tell me exactly what seems to be the problem?"

She suspected he was toying with her. There was an amused gleam in his grey eyes but she needed him dammit. Needed him to lift this stupid curse and let her get on with her life. If she had to sacrifice a little pride in the process then so be it.
She fixed her eyes on a rather ugly landscape hanging just above his left ear.

"You seduced me." She said bluntly.

"I did."

"I liked it." This very quietly. She was unable to prevent her eyes flicking to his and was shocked at the heat she saw briefly ignite there. She continued quickly. "But then you stopped."

"You mean I chivalrously refrained from deflowering you on the desk in my library?"

Her lips formed a silent 'oh'. "Is that why you stopped? I thought you were repulsed by me."

"I was." His response was like a slap to the face and she physically winced at his words. "I was horrified to find myself in such a situation with the sixteen year old mudblood friend of Harry Potter." She winced again. "But I was far from repulsed by you physically."

"So why did you curse me then?" She leapt up from the chair and began once more to pace in front of his desk in an agitated fashion. "I haven't enjoyed being kissed, or touched or...anything since that day. Mr Malfoy, it's been six years!"

He was staring at her again. She really wished he would turn those piercing eyes elsewhere.

"Miss Granger. I can assure you with absolute clarity that I did not curse you." He suddenly got up and came around the desk towards her. Hermione backed away. Lucius Malfoy contained behind his desk was just about tolerable but towering over her he was terrifying. He reached out a long fingered hand and captured her chin forcing her to stop her retreat. He closed the distance between them the front of his elaborate robes brushing against her own. She tried and failed to stop herself from breathing in his intoxicating scent.

"Any consequences of that day are entirely the fabrication of your own subconscious." His lips were so close to her own she could feel his breath on her face.

"However if you truly feel that only I will be able to satisfy you. Then on this occasion I will be more than happy to oblige." He closed the last few millimetres between them and ran the tip of his tongue along the soft underside of her upper lip. It was the most erotic thing to have happened to her in the last six years. For a moment she teetered on a precipice, all she had to do was lean forwards... She pulled away smoothing her robes and cautiously retreating behind the chair she had previously occupied.

"That won't be necessary Mr Malfoy." Her voice was high pitched and nervous. "Now I know I am not cursed I'm sure I can deal with the situation on my own. Thank you so much for your help." Then she turned and fled before he had time to respond.

It took exactly one week. One week and she was back pacing outside his office door, this time a large text book tucked under her arm. He didn't look particularly surprised to see her as she entered his office although he did look slightly taken aback as she dropped the textbook forcefully onto his desk and turned to a page she had marked.

"Neural programming." She announced, pointing to a highlighted paragraph.

"I do beg your pardon."

She actually looked at him for the first time since entering his office. His robes today were not his habitual black but a lighter grey which brought out the colour of his eyes. He looked even more intimidatingly attractive than usual. Her confidence briefly deserted her before she squared her shoulders and moved on.

"This is a book about neural programming. I believe our...er...unfortunate encounter had a negative impact on my growing psyche."

"Miss Granger most of the words you are using mean absolutely nothing to me and please remove that muggle text book from my desk, I find it extremely offensive."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Don't be so bigotted. Just because it was written by a muggle doesn't mean it will stain your robes" She thought he almost smiled at that before he caught himself just in time.

"What do you want Miss Granger?"

"How do you know I want anything, perhaps I just enjoy the pleasure of your scintillating conversation?"

He continued to stare at her without speaking.

"Fine." She huffed out a breath of air. "I want you to have sex with me."

His eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. "Why Miss Granger, how flattering. I'm sure you told me only a week ago that you were going to, how did you put it...ah yes, deal with the situation."

"Well it didn't work." She flopped into the chair she had occupied previously. "I've been out every night. I've drunk more alcohol and been to more bars than I ever have in my life before. I've had more wet kisses and unsatisfying gropes than any woman should have to endure."

"You certainly know how to portray yourself as an appealing prospect."

"Oh shut up Malfoy."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"Why do you think sex with me will be any different?" He asked after a moment.

Hermione forced herself to meet his eyes even though her cheeks were once more burning. "Because you are currently the only man I find attractive. I believe that I became fixated on you as a teenager, after your perceived rejection. I think if you finish what you started I might be able to extrapolate those feelings in order to have a normal relationship."

She shrank back in her chair as Lucius once more stood and came around the desk towards her. He didn't touch her this time though, he merely leaned the backs of his thighs against the desk, folding his arms over his chest and regarding her closely. "You are a demanding woman Miss Granger."

"Hardly."

"Oh really. You don't think prevailing upon me to rescue you from under the nose of a dozen death eaters knowing exactly how valuable a prize you would have been to the Dark Lord wasn't a lot to ask?" She didn't answer. Of course she was grateful to him for what he had done but she had never truly considered the repercussions for him if he had been caught, or the rewards he might have received if he had delivered her to Voldemort. She shivered a little at the thought.

He moved away from the desk to circle behind her. "And now, now you want me to sleep with you. Not because you desire me, not because you wish to please me," His fingers brushed across the exposed nape of her neck, "but because you think it will help you to get yourself a boyfriend."

Hermione hadn't really thought of it that way before. "I do desire you." The words came out almost a whisper. "I want you so badly it hurts me." She clutched her hands over her abdomen. "I can't think, I can't sleep, please Mr Malfoy, I can't live like this."

"That is much better." He circled round the chair to lean on the handles bringing his face close to hers once more.

"Very well Miss Granger, I will assist you again. But this time I have conditions." He interrupted Hermione's effusive thanks.

"I want Carte Blanche." The way his lips caressed the words was obscene. Hermione stared up at his beautiful, haughty face, breathless with anticipation.

"I don't know what you mean." She heard herself say.

"It's a French term Miss Granger, it means..."

"I know what it means." She interrupted him this time, "I just don't understand it within the context you're using it."

"Ah well, let me enlighten you." He circled behind her again resting his large hand over her throat, his head came down so his blond hair fell over one of her shoulders and his lips were against her ear. "It means that this encounter will be entirely on my terms. I will dictate the time, the place and the circumstances." His hand around her throat tightened a little, "And you my dear will...submit."

Hermione drew in a shuddering breath. He was terrifying but the effect of his words was undeniable. She was completely under his spell.

"OK." She answered briefly. In a heartbeat he was gone.

"Excellent." He had returned to his desk and picked up a quill. "I shall drop the wards around Malfoy Manor at 8pm tomorrow, you may apparate into the library." He dropped his head and reached for a parchment. She was dismissed.

"Thank you Mr Malfoy." She said softly before picking up her book from his desk and scurrying out of the room before he changed his mind.