Moving on ... I should imagine the last woman may prove a bit more of a challenge ... and how will she in turn affect the proud Pureblood? Let's put it this way - I have given Hermione three chapters of her own. This story still has a fair way to go. Like I said at the beginning, despite what has happened before, I consider this fic to be a Lumione.

Thank you for the lovely reviews. Forgive me if I take a while to respond to them all.

And now ... Miss Granger.


It had been two days since Lucius Malfoy had had Ginny Weasley in the Ministry library.

He had enjoyed it; that could not be denied, and had relished the opportunity to banish the memory of her less-than-pure encounters with Potter. She was satisfied; of course she was. He did not consider himself to be sexually arrogant, one must always at least endeavour to present a humble stance before a woman – such a demeanour was usually to one's advantage. But he knew from the sounds and sensations of women upon him that he left them more than satisfied.

And he was well-practised.

His frequent indiscretions during his marriage had been partially to blame for its collapse, although it became clear that he was not the only partner who had strayed from the marital bed. In Wizarding Court, Narcissa had revealed a string of lovers stretching back many years, some even before the war, the time at which his own infidelity had started. He supposed his adultery had something to do with a re-evaluation of self in the months after Voldemort's defeat.

He craved physical connection, needed to feel a woman rendered helpless through his attentions alone. It recaptured some of the power he had tasted so briefly under the Dark Lord, with far less sinister repercussions. That was the general idea, in any case.

So far, moral culpability had left him remarkably unscarred. He took as he needed, and women seemed only too happy to give and leave. He wished none of them to linger.

His encounters with the last two girls had been satisfying, although the first would not remain long in his memory; the Parkinson girl had intrigued him, largely due to her association with his son. The Weasley girl would be remembered for longer. She had been good, very good.

And now ... he knew full well who he had to seek out. She had been the reason for beginning this whole thing ever since their chance encounter in The Rowan Tree.

Granger.

Did it surprise him that he would so actively pursue a Mudblood? Perhaps a little. But he supposed her ignoble provenance was one of the reasons he was so excited by the prospect. She had certainly proved herself capable of great magic and was in possession of a ferocious intellect; that appealed. And she had resisted him. Women were usually so quick to succumb to his desire, even the Weasley girl had proved easier than anticipated. Granger's indignation at his presence in the restaurant had piqued his curiosity, but he had noticed the slight reddening of her cheeks when he had stared into her eyes, eyes which were now fixed in his mind.

What an enticingly beautiful creature she was. From the little he had glimpsed of her body it teased and tantalised him exactly as he would wish.

But how best to seduce her? How even to get close to her?

Luckily, fortune was about to deal Lucius Malfoy another good hand.


He was in Apsley's Apothecary, the Diagon Alley store selling to advanced potions practitioners, having dropped in to stock up on much needed supplies. Lucius found himself hidden away in a corner of the shop, sifting through various drawers in an attempt to find what he needed.

"Are you telling me it hasn't arrived yet?"

His ears pricked. A smooth but clearly insistent female voice was inquiring rather forthrightly of the shopkeeper.

"I specifically requested this item months ago and it is still delayed. I need this ingredient for some exceptionally important Ministry business which requires this potion tomorrow. I was assured by your manager that it would arrive a week ago at the very latest. When it had not, he assured me yet again that it would most definitely be today. Your incompetence is compromising my work."

Lucius peered out from behind a shelf, ensuring he remained hidden from view.

Hermione Granger stood before the counter, one hand leaning on it, the other pointing with sharp stipulation to a piece of parchment on the surface. Her cheeks exhibited that same damask glow he had seen when looking upon her in the restaurant, but it had now risen in indignant anger rather than embarrassment. Her hair, which she had clearly endeavoured to tie back earlier in the day, was by now tumbling randomly around her finely-shaped face. One hand moved to her hip, highlighting the perfect swell up to her slender waist. How he wanted to cup that dip, run his hand along to feel the smooth valley of flesh ...

For a moment he found himself simply staring, entranced, but then his groin throbbed its reminder. There was no point lurking in the shadows when a clear opportunity presented itself. He walked out from his hidden vantage point.

"I would like to see the manager, please. This ridiculous situation has persisted long enough."

"Miss Granger. You seem to be experiencing some difficulty. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Hermione turned suddenly, her eyes gaping wide in shock to find Lucius Malfoy approaching her, offering assistance.

Her mind froze and her mouth hung open futilely, half in confusion at having been interrupted from her rant at the shopkeeper, half to try to summon some indignation towards the tall blond man now standing extremely close to her.

She frowned, her head shaking a little in bewilderment and only managed one subdued word. "No."

Hermione turned immediately back to the rather miserable young man who had failed in all his attempts to placate her. "So what are you going to do about this? I asked for your manager."

"He isn't here."

"Get him."

"He's in Peru."

Hermione huffed.

"I can offer you foxglove essence as a substitute."

"Foxglove essence! You run a potions store and you are offering me foxglove in place of essence of red iris to use in the memory potion? Do you realise the consequences of that?"

Malfoy watched the exchange with intrigue. The Granger girl was reducing the shopkeeper to an impotent wreck. He smirked. "The lady is correct. If you replace red iris with a common plant essence such as foxglove, you would succeed not in manipulating the recipient's memory, but in eradicating it altogether. Not something I should imagine Miss Granger wishes to occur."

Hermione looked up at Malfoy again. Why was he still there? However, she fell silent. His account was entirely accurate. The memory potion was an advanced concoction, licensed only to highly skilled witches and wizards; she was silently impressed by his knowledge of it.

The squirming shopkeeper tried again. "Well ... can you get hold of red irises? You can distil their pollen and .."

"Get hold of red irises? You have got to be kidding! It is impossible to buy fresh red irises anywhere. That's why I requested the essence months ago! I would have to find somewhere they were growing and pick them myself!"

Lucius smirked. Fortune was indeed smiling on him today.

"Miss Granger, as luck would have it, while walking in the grounds of the Manor the other day, just beside a patch of woodland I saw a small patch of red irises."

Hermione could not prevent her eyes lighting up with wonder. "You have red irises growing on your land?"

"Only very rarely, but they were certainly there last week. If you wish, I could take you there and you may pick what you need for your potion."

Hermione was speechless. She could not accept ... could she? Yet she so desperately needed the ingredient. One should not look a gift horse in the mouth.

But this was Lucius Malfoy. There was no way she should even be considering his offer. She remembered his obsequious ingratiation in the restaurant. She would not fall for that like her weak-willed friends.

She turned her eyes up to his. He looked down and met them. Gone was the arrogant smirk, gone was the empty smarm. Behind the limpid grey she read, suddenly and openly, intelligence and integrity. Her brows furrowed, tearing her eyes away from his in confusion and dropping them instead to take in his face, as if for the first time. She noted the high cheekbones, the lines around the mouth, almost absent when his face was at rest as now, but clearly etched in from times of deep expression, laughter even. How unlike what she expected. His hair was as immaculate as ever, but one lock dangled down around the line of his chin, almost as if it would tickle him. Her hand jerked. She wanted to brush it away.

Despite her best intentions, Hermione Granger could only admit that he was profoundly attractive.

And she still needed the ingredient.

With the deepest sigh, she looked back at him. "That would be ... a great help to me. I can Apparate to near the Manor. You can just point me in the right direction; I'll find my way."

"Oh no, Miss Granger. The grounds of the estate are vast; it is easy to lose one's way, especially in the woods. I shall take you to the precise location personally."

She was breathing rather more heavily than she needed to. "Very well. Shall we still Apparate?"

"It is difficult to Apparate to an imprecise place with no tangible magical locations nearby. Luckily, I came by broomstick today."

"But ... I haven't got mine." Hermione quaked. She hated flying.

"That is of no consequence – you shall share mine."

"I ... oh, no, I really couldn't ... that won't be necessary ... I really don't think ..." Her mind was such a whirl that she gripped the counter for support.

"It seems the only alternative. Have no fear, Miss Granger, you shall be perfectly safe with me. This way." With a final smirk, he turned, leading the way out of the shop.

Hermione found her feet following him even though her mind had not fully sanctioned what she seemed about to do.

He led her round to a small courtyard behind Diagon Alley where brooms were parked, and reached for a large, mahogany broomstick with gold trim.

"Up!" The broom immediately leapt into his hands. Malfoy swung a long black-clad leg over it and bent over the shaft, looking back at Hermione.

"I ... I really don't think this is a good idea."

Oh, I think it is possibly the best idea I have ever had. "Nonsense. You shall have your ingredient in no time. Jump on. You can sit side on if you wish – always more comfortable for the lady, so I believe."

Hermione walked towards his hovering broom tentatively and tried to place her bottom on the broom so as to avoid any contact with him. He chuckled low.

"You'll have to move closer than that, Miss Granger. Come right up behind me and put your arms around my waist. Do not worry; unlike some of my fellow Death Eaters ... I don't bite." He smirked at her.

Hermione sighed.

Think red irises. Think memory potion. Think happy boss.

She moved a little closer and tentatively drew her hands around his waist, holding only onto the material of his robes.

"Tighter, Miss Granger."

She drew her arms in a little closer around him. She could feel him laugh once again. He smelt potent, heady ... delicious.

Malfoy incanted a cloaking charm and then turned to look up.

"Off we go."

The broom rose abruptly into the air and swept over the roofs of Diagon Alley; Hermione nearly screamed and immediately drew her arms tightly around his waist, burying her head instinctively in the smooth, dark cashmere of his outer robes. She inhaled in terror. More of his exotic scent filled her senses, soothing her suddenly and inexplicably.

The air was rushing past her, buffeting her hair. She held onto him for dear life, her arms now desperately clasped around his torso. Despite her terror, her mind still processed the finely hewn chest and tight abdomen around which she clung.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" called Malfoy over his shoulder.

She nodded frantically against his back.

"Why don't you take a little peep? There is no way you are going anywhere with a grip like that. It is perfectly safe to look. There is a beautiful view of the city."

Hesitantly, furtively, Hermione allowed her head to poke out from behind his shoulder. She cast her eyes down briefly. Her stomach lurched and her grip on him tightened yet again. She thought she heard a slight cough from him and tried to loosen her hold a little. As they flew on, she at last started to relax a tiny bit; the steady, strong presence of the man she was holding made her feel secure, at ease ... safe.

She forgot for a moment she was thinking about Lucius Malfoy, that she was holding onto the robes and body of a Death Eater as the only means of her survival.

They flew on. The crowded roads and buildings of London thinned out and gave way to lush green fields, rivers and meadows. Hermione at last felt relaxed enough to look out upon the extraordinary view of the English countryside below her. Her grip on Malfoy was no longer so desperate; her palms were now open flat against him. She could feel the firmness of his chest ever more under her fingers, even through his dense materials. Her fingers flexed upon him. He smirked. The proximity of the Granger girl was exhilarating. He could feel the swell of her breasts pressed against his ribs. Flying with a screaming erection had its own disadvantages, but the pros seemed to be outweighing the cons.

"Nearly there, Miss Granger."

Malfoy flew with fluid skill, darting through low clouds, avoiding birds with casual swooping efficiency. By the time the journey was finishing, Hermione was not sure she wanted it to end.

"Down there. Do you see?"

Malfoy was pointing to a house, large and isolated, yet dominating the landscape around it. Four wings stretched around a large courtyard. Hermione recognised it even from the air; it was Malfoy Manor. The immaculate landscaped gardens stretched out before it, morphing into fields and woodland which Hermione assumed formed part of the estate. Malfoy leaned over and inclined his broom towards the ground. Hermione's stomach jolted again and she gripped hard upon him.

Malfoy flew down past fields, landing lightly and gently before a wood.

Hermione took a moment to recover her senses. He waited, watching her steadily. "There. Here at last. I told you that you would be perfectly safe. Did you enjoy that?"

She was not sure what to say. She had eventually, but should she admit it to him?

"Thank you for getting me here safely." She opted for grateful appreciation instead. He smirked.

"Come. The irises are in this wood."

Malfoy strode before her. She followed. The wood quickly became dense and dark; Hermione wondered for a moment if he was leading her into danger. She reminded herself of who he actually was. Had she been right to trust him?

But then the wood started to thin out again and sunlight was filtering in ever more dappled patterns onto the ground beneath her.

And then colour.

Hermione exhaled in wonder. There before her was the deepest and densest swathe of bluebells she had ever seen.

She could only stop and stare. Malfoy paused and looked around, pacing back to query her hesitation. "They're just over here - a little further."

"So beautiful."

The girl was not moving, simply staring at the ground. It dawned on him; she was gazing at the bluebells.

"Yes. It is the perfect time of year. The red irises bloom along with the bluebells."

"I have never seen so many."

He looked at her. Her eyes danced, her face shone with radiant joy. Lucius' eyes flicked over her face.

"It's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen."

Lucius Malfoy could not take his eyes off her. "Yes."

At last Hermione inhaled deeply and tore her eyes away from the vivid blue display beneath her. She smiled at him. "Red irises."

He smiled back. Not a smirk. A smile. She noticed. The lines around his mouth deepened beguilingly. "Red irises," he reiterated.

She followed him yet again until at length they came to a small cluster of tall flowers, growing at the base of a fir tree. Their long stems reached up, craving sunlight, and at the top, immaculate red petals forced their way from the womblike sheath they had been held captive in.

Malfoy had been right all along. A tingle of guilt ran through her that she had ever doubted him.

Hermione knelt, running her fingers lightly up a green stalk. "Perfect. Thank you so much, Mr Malfoy. This is wonderful – I so appreciate it."

She meant every word.

"You are very welcome."

So did he.

"Do you mind if I take three? That should be enough."

"You may take as many as you wish, Miss Granger."

She smiled up at him again. His groin ached, but his chest also felt heavy, as if a deep weight was pressing on it.

Hermione sliced the stems of the irises carefully with her wand and summoned a damp cloth to wrap around their cut ends. Lucius would not push things today. He could feel her melting; he did not wish to hasten the process unnecessarily. "That was possibly enough flying for one day. I shall walk you back to the Manor whence you may Apparate to your desired location."

She glanced at him, almost disappointed that she would not be sharing his broom again. "Thank you."

They strolled back through the woods. Lucius spoke easily and genuinely, his diction precise as she would expect, his language fluent, but lacking the pretentious ostentation she had previously associated with him. He conversed with unassuming intelligence about the potion she was brewing, offering tips which she conceded were new to her and most likely very helpful.

The dialogue turned eventually to their meeting in The Rowan Tree.

"You did not seem particularly pleased to see me the other day, Miss Granger."

She blushed scarlet. "Oh! No! I mean, I ..."

"You ignored me."

"Well, I ..." she looked up at him. "You are a Death Eater, Mr Malfoy."

"Were."

She merely smiled. "I was tortured in your house. The house I now find myself being led towards yet again."

"You have nothing to fear now. I have drawn a veil over that time."

She stopped, her head hanging as a slight laugh escaped her.

"What is the matter?"

She looked at him with incredulity. "This whole thing is the matter, Mr Malfoy. Here I am walking quite amicably through your land with you ... you, who represent everything I hate, abhor. I hate you ... I think."

"Well, in that case ... perhaps you should kill me now. You have your wand, do you not? What are you waiting for?" He brought his arms out to the side and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Hermione laughed louder and smiled across at him. "Come on. Take me back to your Manor. I have to get on and brew this bloody potion." She walked past him, her wand still tucked safely in her pocket.

Lucius glanced at her long legs rising to the perfect rump as she glided past. His cock twitched. He sniffed in. Patience.

Still, if things carried on as they were, he would require little more of it.

They continued contentedly back to the Manor. Hermione spoke quite freely about her job and recent changes in Wizarding Law. She found Lucius remarkably well-informed and insightful on the issues.

Time had passed. Perhaps she could be a little more magnanimous.

And he was so very easy on the eye.

"Well, here we are, Miss Granger." They had arrived back through the formal ornate gardens approaching the Manor, which rose up tall and magnificent before her. It was a beautiful, elegant Elizabethan building. Hermione felt an odd affinity with the calm serenity which seemed to link its present to its past. "Would you like to come in for some tea?"

She paused, opening her mouth. The man before her was looking down. The slight smirk was back. It disappointed her. "No. Thank you. I must go."

If Malfoy felt annoyance at her rebuttal, he did not show it. He could wait.

"You must at least let me know how your potion was received. After all, I like to think I had something to do with its production."

She managed a laugh again. "You certainly did, Mr Malfoy."

He tutted. "It has only just occurred to me that you have persisted in addressing me by my title throughout the afternoon. Please, there really is no need. It is Lucius."

She merely smiled. "I'll owl, letting you know how it went."

"I am at Gringott's tomorrow afternoon. You could join me for tea then, if you wished. An owl seems rather pointless under the circumstances."

She lowered her head. "I don't think that's a very good idea, do you?"

"I think it is a very good idea. Why ever would I have suggested it otherwise?"

She turned her eyes to his. She saw again that flash within the grey. His lips were turned up at the corners. If it was a smirk, she no longer registered it as such.

Hermione swallowed. "Very well."

Lucius' smile deepened. "When do you finish at the Ministry?"

"At about four o'clock."

"Shall we say half past four – at Algernon's?"

Algernon's was a discreet and intimate coffee shop tucked away in a side-street off Diagon Alley.

Hermione nodded. She felt suddenly very warm. Her mind was filled with the conversation she had engaged in with her friends. That discussion had not involved tea. Her mind was not thinking particularly about tea now.

She glanced up. "I'll ... see you tomorrow then. Thanks again for these." She indicated the irises.

"You are welcome ... again. Goodbye, Hermione."

"Goodbye, Lucius."

And then he bent down and kissed her on the cheek, just a polite kiss of social convention. Instinctively, she turned her head, offering the other cheek and brushing her lips against his cheek in turn. It was the sort of thing she did several times a day to all and sundry. So why this time did her breath hitch and her belly clench? And why was she certain his lips, remarkably soft and tender, had lingered for longer than necessary against her heated flesh. Why could she remember the soft fall of his breath upon her hair?

Not looking at him again, she withdrew her wand, muttered some words and Disapparated.


Lucius remained staring at the spot she had disappeared from for some time.

What a terribly good day that was.

And what an even better one tomorrow would be.


And, like Lucius, you will have to wait until tomorrow for more. ;-) x