Chapter 2: Fate's Attention

Thou Shall Not Call Fate's Attention-

Ministry of Magic, Year 2000+

A Day of mishaps.

Life would be wonderful, if it were not for the pesky Mudblood slag, the thorn in poor Draco's side, the bane of his heir's existence. How he wished that she had been killed during the war or earlier; he was not picky, just choose a date.

Draco and the pest had just competed to become the new Deputy Minister of the Magical Creatures Law and the Division Head of the Magical Law. The winner was to be in charge of revisions and additions to less advantageous laws affecting the half breeds; the laws were old and obsolete and in need of change to favor discriminated members of their society.

Lucius was walking and thinking, you fool, you squandered a small fortune to further Draco's future, a fruitless effort; indeed, at Malfoy Manor, many fetê and soirees, were hosted to regale the miserable, low-life, Ministry heads. Not one of them had shown either restrain, or a modicum of ethical concerns, while they gorged and drank all that was offered, and did it to their hearts content.

Lucius growled at the memory and dark magic flew around him, never mind, he continued to fume.

The detestable bureaucrats descended upon the Manor like a cloud of starving locusts upon a wheat field; and none stayed away from the dance floor, swinging away to the hired music. Their cheap shoes (not one pair of dragon shoes— he wrinkled his nose at the image—left scuffmarks all over the exquisite parquet floors.

Yes, indeed, all the wining and dining had made a big impression on the leeches' skins, not whatsoever—if one were to consider their vote of 15-2, in Hermione's favor; the nasty-rude-plebeian-ugly-ungrateful-blood-sucking asses, were mere Hippogriff dung under his elegant dragon leather boots.

Lucius' thoughts further fanned the flame of his raging anger further darkening his usual self, if one were to judge by the hazy cloud obscuring him.

Damn, he needed the power to repeal many laws that already gave too many benefits to the less than 100% humans.

They did not deserve to get paid, and the new benefit package would change many half-breeds to citizens. Angrier by the minute, he wondered what happened to his rights to cheap labor and a life of privilege? Hadn't his ancestors come from across time and space to be at the top of the food chain?Why oh why things have to change. They don't deserve it. Let's see the ones to be made my equal; the less than half-breeds minions that the ministry wants to ratify as full citizens. Grrr. Who are they? Well, let me enumerate them, the blood sucker vampires with their dangerous fangs; the ridiculous large chicken harpies, attractive in the outside, cackling things inside, shivers; and let us not forget the mangy werewolves that chase their tail and have fleas.

Lucius stopped at that thought and decided not to dwell on one of the worst, namely his most detested dog, Fenrir. Thus, hevcontinued his internal tirade. I remember how the elves sung while they worked in the hot kitchens preparing meals for a thousand guests… oh, those the good old days when the half-breeds knew their place.

The memory of baby elves folding napkins as soon as they could walk, had a short lived calming effect. But it didn't last.

Random thoughts assaulted his mind, pecking like angry birds—how about the half-horses that probably wanted their witches, and to be fair what normal wizard could compete against a horse's dick? Or how about the daft half-giants who might come into your home and destroy your valuable furnishings sitting on them, or the hideous house-elves with their papery skin and bug eyes...

The entire idea was simply intolerable. And once again, he wondered how that house elf, Dobby's ugly half-brother had managed to bamboozle the Muggle world into believing he was one of them, and managed to become the leader of a Powerful Muggle nation.

The newly appointed Division Head would sign the dreaded law this afternoon; it was, after all, the obnoxious Miss Granger's pet project and would result in considerable losses for Malfoy Industries (less than .00001 percent, or 1/2 galleon per each 100,000). His miserly heart cringed at the possibility.

Draco had earlier sent home an owl to announce his so called promotion. L'Roy, his pompous, personal owl had dropped the fated message and flown away in a hurry, not waiting for his usual treat. He had read the scroll bearing the terrible news.

*Father, I was promoted today; I should be glad since the new position is highly regarded and carries clout. It is, however, not the position I had hoped for. I am now the newly appointed Secretary and Deputy to the Deputy Minister of Magical Law...*

"Translation, a MALFOY, nonetheless, had been appointed as THE MUDBLOOD's underling, never mind that—" Lucius mumbled and continued reading.

*Father, it isn't as bad as it sounds; you should know that I am the youngest wizard, ever, to hold this exalted position. I now yield an incredible amount of power, and I will represent the Ministry in councils worldwide…your son, Lord Draco Malfoy.*

*Yes, although Draco is right, nothing will ever make me more miserable. I am sure of that*, Lucius thought bitterly.

He should have held his thoughts and become aware that real misery was about to steamroll him, in a matter of seconds, or, as they say, it waited for him just around the corner.

Shall we say that Fate was ready to teach him a lesson he would never forget, oh yes indeed!

He walked along the long-cavernous hallway, illuminated by walls alive with hundreds of years of accumulated magic remnants and unseen visitors.

He was miserable and contemplated the most painful ways known to wizards to rid the world of a miserable pest, the one and only, Hermione Granger.

Now for the trickiest part, once the deed was done, he needed to figure out how not to get caught... Yes, the later was a must, because Azkaban was simply not an option.

"Never show your enemy that your ships are down, Lucius my boy," he scolded himself in a whisper, and the pep talk worked its magic.

Said and done, he changed his posture, straightened up his shoulders, tussled his long silver mane, slowed his step, stuck his head high up on the air and pointed his nose to the ceiling. Once in a while, he used his twirled cane as a baton and twirled it up in the air.

Yes, dear Lucius, he who laughs last laughs best, he continued his internal dialogue and added a light spring to his step…

Oh Yes, I am Lucius the Great, it is time for the plebs to recognize it and cow down to their undeniable superior, moi, Lucius the Magnificent, he thought...aloud.

In muureality, he had been mumbling the words the entire time thinking that it was an inner dialogue.

The blond buffoon preened his peacock feathers, and— *Damn! merde! carajo!* An unseen viewer of the MoM screamed the triple curse.

Lucius' shinny plumage had caught Fate's eyes that kept swearing while she looked at her two sisters Fame and Fortune. She frowned in annoyance at the glare accompanied by his incessant babble, and the mix triggered a migraine headache.

You fool, Fortune thought, it is not a good thing to call Fate's attention, I like you my dear boy, but she is my blood.

Ignorant of having angered Fate, Lucius continued his pace and saluted passersby according to their station in life.

Deputies and above were honored with a mini-head curtsey, but even the greeting was limited to the slightest acknowledgment, i.e. amilitary salute by tapping his index on the forehead along with a minuscule bow, and accompanied by, what some would call, a plainly contrived smile.

Other passersby should consider themselves lucky if he didn't push them unto the wall or tripped them with his cane. It was Malfoy's arrogance at his best.

Life was good right at that moment. He was rich, powerful, and beautiful, and they were all flubber-worms.

As he advanced, he would occasionally alter his step to execute an experienced fencing stance. In his mind's eye, he would always pierce his victim's chest, right in the middle of the heart; whose heart was it, one might ask? You guessed correctly, the Mudblood's.

At each imagined score thhis rapier earned him, his mouth curled into a cruel grimace, and his eyes glowed with malice and glee. *Die witch, die; burn witch burn, oh yeah!* His mind sang.

LM x0x HG

**The Collision-**

She wasn't walking; she was running in a great rush, coming like a freight train from the hall's opposite direction, while Lucius kept his leisure pace towards Draco's old office.

She was happy as a lark, whistling, nearly skipping, and her heart was bursting with joy. Her wild curly mane bounced in the air, partly contained by the Gryffindor topped hair sticks, her eyes shinning, and her body glowed lighting the way.

?.She carried an extra-sharp quill in her hand, which doubled as a sword to duel the imaginary opponents, all those who opposed her initiatives.

She held, the afore-mentioned quill, Harry's gift, by the feather end at an arm's length as if were a sword. She did not have a particular contender in her mind, there were too many to be enumerated or to give importance to a particular one.

Lucius would later relate the story to Snape, "Severus, she was going somewhere with great alacrity and seemed to be infused with the energy of a star going nova, what a nuisance. The reckless freight train, a.k.a. Miss Granger, suddenly turned the same corner from my opposite direction..."

Indeed, two untamed and equally hardheaded magical individuals were about to meet their unbidden destinies, and they were going to have a close-encounter of the carnal kind. Fate's headache was improving by the second, as she saw her plan going into action.

And sure enough, BOOM! they collided. Upon contact, he had nearly decapitated her with the head of the snake; well, that was an exaggeration.

But something bad did happen, the snake's teeth snagged in her neck, and a spurt of bright-red arterial blood fell, freely, from the gashing wound.

In turn, she embedded her quill right into the middle of his hand, touché, attack and counter attack.

The current score, Death-Eater, 1, Light-Queen,1. Now for the aftermath without a referee.

"You baffoon, you blond monster; you killed me; see how I am bleeding, murderer, evil-doer, unreformed dark wizard, my blood is on your conscience, and I am about to die."

She was barely able to talk, but her anger made her wild-nest-of-vipers hair spark and move. It stood at an end activated by magical currents proceeding from her; one could say that her hair was alive, a magic halo floating around hair; a halo stained bright red.

To Lucius' horror, the darn creature under him started a ruckus complete with screams and yells; she made way too much noise.

She kept trying to untangle her limbs from the alleged murdering wizard, whose large body had fallen above hers. It was a good thing that the Ministry's floors were charmed to behave like cushions, in the events of a fall.

"Get off from me, you rapist." She yelled over and over.

Lucius spoke softer, "It was your entire fault, you menace. Who runs through the halls of the Ministry, this is not a sports field, and you are now a Head of—," and that was when most delicious smell, ever, struck the evil Death Eater's nose, and from there, it travelled through the brain paths at the speed of light.

Yes, he was indeed evil and not even a little reformed. And Fate had just pierced him with a winning stroke, double touché, I got you boy. She clicked her gold sandals and left, her headache was all gone; nothing like a little misery inflicted upon others to heal all your woes.

Lucius stared at his injured hand and gingerly touched the blood trickling from her neck. He rubbed together his wounded hand's index and middle fingers together with his thumb, and then inhaled the combined bloods deeply.

By Merlin, the scent of the two bloods intermingled, triggered a chain reaction, and his body went hard. He had not felt this aroused like this, never before during his entire life. "Damn, this is most inconvenient," he mumbled, but he stayed right where he was at.

She was looking at him as if he had sprouted two additional heads, just as her pup, Camellia, who sometimes sprouted two extra heads. What was up with this horrible excuse for a wizard?

For a minute she forgot all but about the man above her. Their universe had shrunken to the space occupied by their fallen bodies, and took no notice of the people peering out their offices and starting to fill the area around them.

"Dear Miss Granger, you are looking strangely attractive." Lucius heard himself speaking softly, with a husky and seductive bedroom voice; why not? It sounded right to him.

She was the source of the delicious aroma, darn, and what an enticing scent it was; he confirmed it while he licked his bloodied hand with great relish.

His eyes rolled back in near ecstasy at the first taste. And to his horror, he kept sniffing around her neck; he just couldn't control himself, and he wanted more of whatever it was around her neck, oh yes.

"Give me some of more of that honey, my sweet precious witch," he whispered to her while his body molded into her soft curves. Damn, that felt just perfect.

It was as if he were two people; both resided inside of his head, one was Lucius-normal-evil-self, and the other was an unknown dark, lusty creature. The dark-one was winning the match, 2-0 thus far.

Fate turned around, laughed with delight, and clapped her hands. "What fun," she told her sisters; and Fortune and Fame both had to agree, regardless if Lucius was a favorite; hence they joined the laughter and sat to watch.

While all of this was happening, Hermione's brain restarted. 'Wait there. Is this not the less-contrite-most-evil-Death Eater? And if so, why is he looking so very alluring, as in über-sexy?' She did nothing to get away.

s he the one whispering sweet nothings, keening, growling, and making those little clacking sounds resembling a purr, and is that what I think it is poking at my belly, no, impossible.' Hermione asked herself with mounting incredulity.

'Is he the one whispering sweet nothings, keening, growling, and making those little clacking sounds resembling a purr, and is that what I think it is poking at my belly, no, impossible.' Hermione asked herself with mounting incredulity.

Moreover, why was her body trying to get closer to his, and her hips rose to meet his what,yes what was it?

She figured it out, she had to be in the midst of a bizarre dream, which must have started after she passed out; she reasoned..

Yes, this must be a dream while dying from blood loss; and what was up with the wetness in her knickers? Ah yes, she remembered those who died empty their bladders, that must be it. But darn, it felt good.

At once, the sniffing had turned into a long, wet tongue, happily licking her neck; Lucius was lapping the nectar, an instinctively had placed his injured hand to press right above the neck wound.

Later, Lucius would tell Snape, "Severus, you understand, I was, hmm, well, err, yes, I was licking and pressing my hand for the most noble of reasons, to stop her bleeding..." Snape would roll his eyes at the extremely puerile, tall tale.

Not a chance, he was enjoying it and the mixing of bloods gave him an extra sensual jolt that ran straight to his dick and made it twitch and weep.

The truth was plain, he wasn't thinking, not at all, not for a second; he was being controlled by the electrical currents of pleasure surging along his body, straight into his cock, increasing the size of his erection to new limits.

Lucius Malfoy's circulatory system had received a strong command to deviate down south. The fact is that he had held on tight, with purpose, to let the bloods co-mingle.

If one looked even further, the innate instinct of the awoken-inner-creature, had told him what to do.

It was simple, the razor sharp quill had made a deep cut in his hand, which was perfect for the purpose, thus each time the bloods mingled in his blood stream, his hips pressed harder to purposely seek her moist heat; and after several attempts he had found the perfect niche, oh, yeah.

By the intentional mixing the blood, Lucius had sealed his fate; someone was having a laugh, somewhere not seen by us; yup, it was Fate. She was looking at the three cherries in the slot machine of life's casino, a most unexpected boon. She had no idea what her mischief would bring; maybe Fortune had given her an early birthday present.

Whatever he had done acted as a powerful aphrodisiac, and his body had a life of its own. Thus, he just grounded his erection, time after time, against the small witch, seeking her warmth.

Meanwhile, the crowd surrounding the couple, some amused, some alarmed, were all frozen in place once the moans and lewd movements commenced; the show had begun.

Of course, nobody would recognize, how much they, over half of them, were aroused as they watched the gratuitous sex-show featuring a über-sexy, platinum-hair aristocrat, having dry-sex right in the middle of the Ministry Halls, with non other than the beautiful new deputy and famous witch, Hermione Granger.

Hermione was under Lucius; fortunately his robes and his larger body, covered her smaller frame rather well. So it might have appeared, to the not so sharp observers, as if Lucius, identified by his trade hair, was actively humping the floor.

It was not so; her long curly hair was spread on the floor and a trickle of blood was seeping her life's force away from her. Some had seen it, but nobody wanted to act and maybe stop the live entertainment; indeed, the hungry crowd was getting a free treat.

"Hermione, are you hurt?" It was Harry who would have recognized that hair anywhere. He was very alarmed and what was Malfoy doing? It was disturbing and very, very tacky, oh Merlin, the blood; had the Death Eater finally snapped and hurt his best and most beloved friend?

"Father, stop it! What are you doing?" Draco was right behind Harry. By now, all the Ministry of Magic was gathered in this hallway, or so it seemed. Aurors were pushing the crowd away, and Kinsgley's booming voice was heard over the crowd of magical bureaucrats.

"Most unprofessional comportment from all of you. Do you realize, that you are schadenfreude watchers and nobody has offered to help? This is not a show, so now, everyone back to his or her offices if you still want a job come tomorrow," and he issued a command with this wand.

At once, wizards' and witches' names were written on a scroll that appeared in the air, it registered how long they stood there, how long they stayed, and how long it took them to leave after Kingsley command.

Draco stood right behind Harry and stretched his hand out towards Lucius. "Please Potter, it is my father, let me look first." He pleaded flushed with embarrassment at the disgraceful display.

With the wand on hand, he bent and touched his father's back. "Father, father, stop it, get up, what are you doing?" Draco had the most horrible feeling of dread. And what was that delicious aroma coming from?

A/N I am making shorter chapters this time, to make the reading easier. I have also added extra material to make it more understandable. Make sure you read carefully, the first chapters are full of information that will come up later