Onwards. LL x

The next day was bright and clear and blew away the oppressive atmosphere of brewing attraction, not to banish it, but to precipitate them towards more. Hermione arrived with a broad grin and immediately announced her intentions.

'We should go and do something more pro-active. It is, after all, supposed to be a community programme. I suppose I should get you out into the community.'

Lucius shrugged mildly. 'I could do with a trip to Diagon Alley. I need some new clothes.'

Hermione smirked, sauntering across to him, aware of how seductive she appeared. 'Oh no, Mr Malfoy. It won't be as easy as that. I intend to take you into the Muggle world.'

For a moment, a familiar look of disdainful Malfoy horror passed across his face. 'Muggle?'

'Yes. Nothing too drastic, don't worry. Trip to the coast maybe, nice bite to eat somewhere. What do you reckon?'

He grimaced. 'I don't 'reckon' at all. It sounds most disagreeable.'

But his manner did not suggest he was unwilling. She was decided. 'Rubbish. It's a great day. Come on, I know just the place. We can Apparate close by. Go and put something on to make you look a little less ... wizardy.' She grinned wickedly and swept out to wait in the hall.

He appeared several minutes later, clearly self-conscious. She found it ridiculously endearing. But he needn't have worried; his clothes suited him well. He was still dressed entirely in black – some habits were hard to break – but he had on informal trousers and a black shirt with the top two buttons undone. He approached her, motioning vaguely over his body, his face pinked on the rise of his cheekbones.

'Do I ... these clothes ... are they ...?'

'Perfect. You may want a warm coat. And maybe tie your hair back and tuck it into your collar.'

His face creased in disapproval.

'Lucius ... your hair will make you stand out. If you don't want Muggles gawping at you, you should do it.'

He pouted a little. 'I didn't used to mind being gawped at.'

'I know you didn't,' she smirked.

'But not by Muggles.'

He too was smirking now as he put on a dark wool overcoat. She wanted to rush over and take his hand and leave with him like he was her lover. Instead, she put her head down and paced quickly past him out of the door, calling behind, 'Come on.'

She Apparated them both to a beach in Cornwall, somewhere she had come recently with cousins. It was not busy at this time of year, but was phenomenally beautiful. The broad, golden beach had a matted lustre to it under the grey, winter sky, and the cresting waves fell with ceaseless reassurance on the sand, dragging the tide up the beach with them. Hermione stared out to sea, her hair whipping around her face. There was a cafe nestled in the dunes, which served hot soup and crusty bread and homemade cakes, popular with the surfers who braved the swell no matter the weather.

Lucius followed her into the cafe where they sat in a corner, staring out at the ocean's relentless beauty. She had soup. He had a steak sandwich.

They talked, easily and freely. Sometimes they talked seriously about the war and Voldemort and Hogwarts. Sometimes they talked as any people at ease with each other would talk, remarking on people passing by, on a familiar place, a mutual acquaintance. Sometimes they were silent, but their silences were not awkward; there were no moments when the seconds stretched out to tease and taunt their incompatibility. They were not incompatible. Hermione leaned into him occasionally, naturally and spontaneously, and he did not shy away from it.

And sometimes they laughed. The sound of Lucius Malfoy laughing – a deep, low chuckle which brightened his face – gave Hermione a rush of exhilaration.

'I'm going to get a coffee – the waitress isn't paying attention; I'll go to her. Do you want anything?'

He shook his head.

Hermione approached the counter. 'Can I get a latte, please?'

'Sure,' replied the pretty young woman, turning her large eyes towards Lucius. 'Anything for your boyfriend?'

'My boyfriend?'

'Yeah – the guy you're with.'

'Oh.' Hermione flushed. 'He's not my boyfriend.'

'Oh. Right.' The waitress sounded less than convinced.

'Why did you say that?' Hermione asked with a curious smile.

'Sorry. No business of mine. I just assumed. You're very easy with each other. You just seemed to be together. You look good together.'

'No, we're ... just ... working together.'

'I see.' She smirked, glancing over at Lucius. 'Can I have him then?'

Hermione took the latte quickly. 'No.'

Returning to the table, she sat down with a barely concealed grin.

'Something to smile about?'

'Something.' She looked to him and smiled. 'This has been OK, hasn't it?'

'Hmm.'

'Better than Azkaban?'

He stared out of the window, his face intensely sincere. 'The opposite to Azkaban. Azkaban removes happiness and warmth. This has given happiness.'

Her heart juddered. Instinctively and unstoppably, Hermione reached over and ran a finger over one of his. At first he did nothing but turn to look down at it. Still she stroked, registering the warm strength contained in the long digit. But then he tensed and pulled his hand away. 'Sorry,' she muttered, flustered.

He fell silent and she could hear his breath coming fast. But then his own long, warm finger came over and touched hers, very softly, lightly, but enough to cause her belly to writhe. Lucius spoke. 'Draco ...' She closed her eyes. '... likes you very much.'

Hermione released a deep sigh and hung her head.

'He thinks you feel the same,' continued Lucius.

She pulled her hand through her hair. 'He's become a good friend ... not something I ever thought I'd say.'

'No more than a friend?'

'Not for me.'

'He feels more than that. He wants more than that.'

'I know.'

They were silent before Lucius said, 'Have I become a good friend?'

She turned her head and looked into the brilliant grey of his, the same grey she had been mesmerised by when she first returned to Malfoy Manor. Hermione nodded, slowly, holding his eyes.

A weight pressed in on her; she struggled to pull in breath. He was so close and real and firm beside her. Right beside her. She only had to reach out a hand and she could touch him and feel that realness. She wanted to touch him so much. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him the way his son wanted to kiss her.

Lucius' tongue flitted out briefly, moistening his lips. He made a move closer to her, leaning in. She could see only him.

'Can I get you anything else at all?'

Hermione looked up, startled, ready to murder the person interrupting them. It was the same waitress she had seen at the counter. She grinned at Hermione before turning her flirtatious smile to Lucius. 'Nice hot chocolate, perhaps? Make you feel all snugly on a cold day?'

Lucius stood abruptly. 'No, thank you. That will be all. How much?'

'I'll get your bill.' She turned with a final look into his eyes and sashayed away on heels which surely weren't suitable for a job which kept you on your feet all day. Hermione sneered at her retreating back.

She stood up. 'Stupid cow.'

'Why's that?'

'Never mind.'

He glanced at her and smiled very slightly. She blushed red. 'We should go. I'll pay. It goes on expenses as part of your programme.'

'Part of my programme ...' he mused. 'Is that what this was?'

'That was the intention,' Hermione murmured.

'Let me pay.' And before she knew it he'd marched over to the counter and settled up.

When Lucius returned he helped her on with her coat. 'You didn't have to do that,' she smiled. 'Thank you.'

'Come along.'

Outside, the wind was blowing bitter off the Atlantic and Hermione huddled into herself, wishing more than anything that she could nestle against the tall form of the man beside her and be folded into his dark cashmere coat.

'Are you cold?' he asked.

'Hmm.'

Looking down, Lucius extended the crook of his arm. Hermione pushed her hand through it, allowing her body to rest partly along his. It retained an air of formality but sent a surge of coursing heat through her. His forearm was hard and strong, even through the thick material of his coat. She held it tight.

They walked silently along the beach back to a secluded Apparation point. At the moment before he muttered the spell, Hermione feared she may kiss him. But she didn't.

xoOox

She couldn't sleep.

What the hell was happening?

She fancied Lucius Malfoy. She wanted him more than she could ever remember wanting a man.

Lucius. Malfoy. Burying her head under the duvet, she tried to block out the terrifying reality of her thoughts.

He was the last man on earth she should be thinking of. He was under her supervision; he had been her bitter enemy; he had stood for everything she detested.

But now ... She adored their conversations, she admired his re-appraisal, she understood his shift in self-perception. She simply wanted to be with him.

And she wanted to kiss him.

And at this precise moment she could think only of kissing him. Endlessly, as she tried to slip into sleep, her mind presented her with an image of him leaning into her in the cafe and kissing her in full view of all the diners, pulling her against him on the beach, taking her head in his hands and lowering his mouth to hers, striding up to her when she next visited the Manor and kissing her immediately and powerfully in the hallway.

It was ludicrous. She mustn't want him. She couldn't want him.

Her phone pinged with a text. A mobile phone was a Muggle luxury at which most wizards and witches scoffed derisively, through ignorance rather than a valid refutation. But Hermione wasn't one for scoffing. She used hers to keep in touch with Muggle friends and to communicate with Harry regularly.

She glanced at the screen. This text was not from Harry.

- How about a drink next Friday? D -

Hermione swore aloud. She'd forgotten she'd given Draco her number.

For a while she simply stared at the message, at a loss to know what to do.

She was so fucking confused. And confusion led to guilt. And guilt led to her fingers tapping out a reply.

- OK. I'm working with your dad until 7. Could go after that. Where do u fancy? –

- The Leaping Hart? I'll meet you at the Manor after you've finished with Father. –

- Good idea. C u at the house. H –

- Great. x –

Shit. He'd put a kiss.

She threw down her phone. What the hell? Was she masking her true feelings? Using Draco to get to his father? Simply in denial about the whole fucking mess?

She barely slept. In her erratic dreams Draco was trying to kiss her. She tried to kiss him back, eyes shut in her dream, but whenever she did, she'd open them only to find herself instead kissing his father.

xoOox

She met with Lucius throughout the week. Officially, of course.

Only it didn't feel official. It never did. They talked. And now they would go for walks, venturing into Muggle towns. Luckily for her, it was part of the community programme. It didn't go as far as cleaning off graffiti or sweeping the streets, but the Death Eaters had to prove that they could interact with Muggles safely and without prejudice. There was no longer any doubt that this was not an issue for Lucius. She wondered occasionally if he would be the same if she wasn't there to monitor, but Lucius was relaxed and unfazed at all times. Much had clearly come from exhaustion and disenchantment at the hands of Voldemort, but whatever had wrought the change, she would support and encourage him. She longed to.

This day was no different. She was glad the heady tension which had pervaded the day on the beach had dissipated a little, but now they were simply so happy in each other's presence that she could almost believe they were in a relationship. They chatted. She laughed a lot. He managed to smirk frequently. She adored his smirks. Before they had inspired intimidated hatred, now they caused her belly to jerk with optimistic lust.

As usual their time together passed too quickly. Hermione's days were busy. She spent her life Apparating to and from meetings and symposiums and interviews. Moments with Lucius were ridiculously precious. But tonight was different. It was Friday. Her time with him was cut short due to the date with his son. She'd arranged to leave with Draco from the Manor after her meeting with Lucius. With a sigh, she stood to leave.

'We're going to have to call it a day. Never seem to have enough time with you,' she smiled cautiously.

Lucius looked at her calmly. She allowed the silence between them to knit a warm blanket of contentment.

She packed away as slowly as she could.

'Draco tells me you're seeing him tonight.'

His sudden disclosure threw her. She'd hoped to keep it from him. He didn't sound aggrieved, merely calmly curious. 'Umm ... well ... we're meeting for a bit ... just to catch up ...'

'That will be nice, I'm sure.'

Would it? 'Yes.'

'He talks about you a lot.'

She did not want to be having this conversation. 'Oh.'

'I told you that he likes you,' continued Lucius smoothly, his tone betraying nothing.

'Well ... I told him I like him. Sort of.'

'So?'

'So what?'

'Why don't you want to take it further?'

She eyed him cautiously. 'Wouldn't you object?'

'Why would I object?'

Because you want me.'Because ... he's your son and I'm ...' She threw her head back and sighed aloud.

'What are you?'

'I'm Muggle-born.'

He stood quickly and paced across to her, clearly annoyed. 'You know that is irrelevant to me now. I see only -' Lucius broke off.

She searched his eyes, daring him to voice it. She wanted to grab hold of him and take all he was. 'What do you see, Lucius?'

His eyes pored over her face, his breath falling rapid onto her. 'I see only ...'

'Hermione!'

It was Draco, calling from the hall. 'You ready?' Footsteps approached the sitting room.

She pulled back quickly. 'Coming!'

Without looking at Lucius, Hermione dropped her head and hurried out to meet his son.

xoOox

The evening was very agreeable.

Agreeable. That was the word which seemed to sum up Hermione's assessment. It was a word her mother would use after the compulsory Boxing Day visit to Great Aunt Patricia. Great Aunt Patricia was pleasant enough and her Christmas leftovers were better than most, but it was never a day of great thrills.

Agreeable. Draco was agreeable. No more.

But as they walked along the river afterwards, Hermione was content enough. And drunk enough. She stopped and leaned on the railings for a while, breathing in the crisp night air deeply. Draco moved in closer, putting an arm around her. She didn't stop him.

A strong arm pulled her round and two hands slipped down to hold her waist. With a Rioja-infused grin, she turned her face up to him. She smelt his own soft, gin-caressed breath ... sweet.

'Hermione ... you're so beautiful.'

Now he stroked down her face tenderly. With any other man she would have responded. It was a soft touch, his fingers were smooth and warm, his body hard and firm before her. But the alcohol had not debilitated her enough. Her response now, although not antagonistic, came rather from habit than attraction. She should do this. She must do this. Lucius wanted her to do this. She smiled gently, knowing it would encourage Draco.

Draco bent his head and kissed her. It was nice, a bit like kisses at a school dance: desperate to pretend you're good at it, enjoying it because it's new and naughty, even though at heart you're hoping to do a lot better at a later date with someone else you fancy more.

Draco broke away to whisper in her ear, 'Come back to the Manor with me.'

'Uh huh ...' she murmured. It wasn't exactly a firm affirmation, but he took it as such. His grip on her waist tightened and Hermione immediately felt the dizzying pull of Apparation. When she opened her eyes she recognised the imposing surroundings of the library of Malfoy Manor. She wasn't sure why Draco had chosen this particular room. Perhaps he thought she needed books to turn her on. She stifled a giggle and soon found herself being pawed once again. Still, she seemed to be in the mood for a little pawing. The wine had relaxed her, and her sexually frustrated body overrode her emotions. He immediately attached his mouth to hers again. She opened to him and let him deepen the kiss. His tongue soon slid into her pliant mouth. Instinctively, at the intrusion, she began to back away but was able to stop herself. He kissed her hard, working his tongue in dizzying circles, grinding his lips against her. A hand slipped down and her right breast was soon gripped in strong fingers. She would have pushed him off if his thumb hadn't rubbed over her nipple. With mild surprise, she realised it was working. But then she could never resist attention to her pert little breasts and found herself instinctively pushing into his searching hands.

Hermione wanted to want him, needed to want him. If she could have him she wouldn't want his father ... would she? Letting her mind fog, she tried to allow desire to rise in her. The attention to her breasts was helping somewhat, and Hermione tangled her fingers in his hair and held him tighter against her. Her other hand moved down over his firm torso with languid seduction; she knew it would work – it usually did. Draco pulled back with a sharp suck of breath, his eyes glazed, his lips darker than ever.

'Sweet, sweet Hermione. Want you so much. Can't believe how much I want you.'

And then his hand was slipping up under her dress and pushing aside the thin band of her underwear. She gasped, not through pleasure but shock. Despite managing to drum up attraction for this man, she was not ready for this sudden invasion of her body. But Draco reached down to kiss her again and there was gentle need in his kiss. She relaxed and allowed him to discover her.

His fingers moved quickly, not skilfully, but with a rough intuition. She knew she wasn't very wet, but Hermione's sexual need was such that he was able to quest over her smoothly. His tongue was plunging in and out of her mouth now and his fingers mimicked it, probing into her pussy with perfunctory thrusts.

He pulled away and moaned into her ear, 'Do you like that?'

She chose to give a non-committal groan in response.

'I want you to come. I want you to come for me,' came his slurred need.

She wanted to as well, but at this rate it wasn't going to happen.

Hermione tried so hard. His fingers were now at least grazing her clit and if her heart had been in it she probably would have climaxed.

She held him close, willing him to touch her properly, willing herself to relax.

She was going to have to fake it. Her flesh was starting to ache. She wanted it to end.

And then Hermione glanced up. Standing half in the doorway, half masked behind it, she saw him.

Lucius was staring across at her, his face solemn, his eyes grave but still alight with that spark of brilliance.

Hermione looked into him. He did not move.

And instead of crying out, pushing his son away and covering herself in shame, her arms curled around Draco and she held his head tight down against her.

Not removing her gaze from his father, she lifted her leg and curled it around the son, giving him better access.

Draco stifled a moan. A gush of wetness had moistened her suddenly; his fingers glided smoothly, her clit swelled with renewed fervour.

Lucius stood stock still, his eyes fixed on her, only on her. She clung to the body working her, but knew only the man in the doorway.

She was rising; her body was prickling at last, mounting to that moment of sweet, sharp climax. Still she stared at Lucius, locked into the ferocious brightness of his eyes.

And then, with a sudden cry, harsh and gasping, she came. Pleasure ripped through her and she let it take. She gave it to him. She gave it to Lucius.

And then he was gone. Like a spectre within his own house, he passed from her view. Her body, already limp with orgasm, slumped yet more.

'Fuck, Hermione. You are the sweetest thing. Need you. Please, let me come into you.'

Draco was releasing himself. She glanced down and saw the bulge in his trousers. His fingers were fumbling for the buttons. Hermione panicked.

'Draco ... I ... that was really nice but I ... don't want ...'

A look of despair crossed his face. 'What? Come on ... please ... look at this.'

He'd taken it out and was stroking hard along the rigid flesh. Hermione forced herself not to turn away in horror. It was not a small penis and rose up smooth and proud; at any other time she would have been desperate for something like it inside her, but now she only wanted to turn and flee.

He was trying to nudge her to sit on the desk behind her, pushing her legs apart, pulling at her knickers.

'Draco ... have you got a condom?'

His face looked panicked. 'Umm ... I ... shit, no, I thought maybe you'd ... aren't you protected?'

''Fraid not.' She was lying. Hermione was in fact on the Muggle pill and in addition had administered a contraceptive charm. 'We'd better not ... not tonight.'

Devastation captured Draco and he continued almost distractedly stroking his prick. A sweep of shame overcame Hermione. He had, after all, been attentive to her. Her sense of fair play couldn't allow her to leave, as much as she wanted to. Stifling a sigh, she stepped in and spat on her hand before wrapping his stiff penis in her fingers.

Immediately, his head fell back and he groaned aloud. She wondered if Lucius had heard.

Working him hard and fast, not looking at her handiwork, she stared determinedly over his shoulder, desperate to finish him fast.

'Fuck, that's so good, that's so good. There, right there. Hard.'

She stroked and smoothed and plied his flesh with skilled fingers and palm, knowing that even in her haste she was bloody good at it. God, she wished he'd hurry up and come.

She worked her hand, curling tight around him, long up and down the shaft, then, when she felt his breath catching and his muscles clenched, she pumped the head hard and waited for his release. Moving deftly out of the way at just the right moment, Hermione glanced down at the bulbous head of Draco's cock to see his come burst out three times, each shot accompanied by a guttural groan. His semen splattered onto the side of the table and dripped ignominiously in thick white globs onto the floor. It turned her stomach.

'Fuck, thank you, thank you, that was amazing. Next time ... I'll be better prepared,' he grinned.

She didn't respond.

'Stay the night. We don't have to do anything ... well ... not much,' he smiled.

'Draco ... I'm going to go home.'

His face fell. 'Are you?'

'Yeah, I ... have a meeting first thing. I'd better go.'

'Well ... OK ... if you're sure.' He ran a hand dejectedly through his hair. 'Thanks for ... this.' After tucking himself away he reached in to kiss her again. She obliged, but now his lips tasted bitter on her mouth. She pulled back.

'Bye, Draco.'

As she went out to the hallway, Hermione noticed a light coming from Lucius' study. She paused, her feet itching to take her in. She heard the rustle of paper.

But she turned and walked away, her feet clicking on the wooden floor. She shut the front door firmly and audibly behind her.

Oh, oh, oh, oh ...