Warded communities had become in vogue towards the end of the Second Wizarding War. They were comparable to muggle gated communities, creating an illusion of heightened safety, where certain spells were cast over a large group of dwellings. These spells included everything from secret-keeper wards and anti-jinxes to unbreakable charms cast on houses and, much to Hermione's displeasure, almost always included anti-apparition spells. It was due to the aforementioned magic that Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy were walking down the same path rather late one spring evening in Bristol.
In the past two months, Hermione had avoided anything other than work-related pleasantries with the elder Malfoy who had been visiting her boss with increasing frequency. Tonight, Rosier had extended dinner invitations to her and Ron, who happened to be away in Bulgaria on business. Coincidentally, Lucius had arrived at dinner stag as well, claiming Narcissa had taken ill with a mild cold, but insisted he make an appearance. The night had gone as well as Hermione could have expected with her making idle chit-chat with Mrs. Rosier and avoiding Malfoy's lingering gaze.
"I assume you enjoyed yourself amongst true wizards this evening?" Lucius asked without looking at her. He was in his usual immaculately pressed black robes and rubbing his thumb against the silver snake atop his cane as he strolled along the lane.
"You've really got to become more subtle at taking shots at my bloodline, Mr. Malfoy," said Hermione. "But I am quite fond of Damien and Eleanor, less fond of their carelessness in purchasing Floo powder."
"I'm surprised," Malfoy said with a sideways glance. "Don't you muggles like this sort of thing? Hiking and such?"
"If you knew anything about muggles, you'd notice they tend to conduct outdoor activities in warmer weather and preferably in the sunshine."
"And yet I find the night endlessly more fascinating. So tell me, have you given any more thought to my proposition?"
Hermione knew the topic was bound to come up sometime during this walk. Truth be told, she had been considering his offer, though usually only after indulging in a drink or two. Since his return from Harry's, sex with Ron had been infrequent and unsatisfying. She was beginning to think that while she still loved Ron, maybe she didn't feel the same desire for him anymore, for as guilty as it made her feel, being with him didn't excite her. Lucius, on the other hand, had an odd sort of intrigue about him, as if he were the forbidden fruit. The more she saw him around the ministry, the more she began to study him. Surely she would have found his refined features handsome a long time ago if she wasn't distracted by his servitude of Lord Voldemort. As the new and slightly improved Malfoy had a different allegiance, she had begun to accept her superficial attraction of him which seemed to grow each day she saw his aristocratic face. Alas, she still wasn't ready to forfeit her marriage, nor did she wish to betray Ron by being unfaithful.
"I already gave you my answer," Hermione replied stiffly, Lucius just smirked.
"Indeed you did. See, your mouth says one thing, but what, with how long it took you to utter one short sentence, I think you must be seriously considering my proposal." Very suddenly, Lucius grabbed her arm and Hermione felt as though her entire body were being compressed by invisible bands. The world around her blurred and smeared before coming to an abrupt halt before a property she had never planned to see again.
"What the fuck, Malfoy!" Hermione shouted, less as a question and more as a verbal assault. "Side-along apparition! Really? And you bring me here of all bloody places?" Momentarily forgetting she was a witch, Hermione made to shove the older man, who, taken by surprise by her sudden violence, stumbled back a few paces.
"Miss Granger, you were so distracted by your thoughts of me that you didn't even detect the change in magic once we passed the boundaries of the wards." Hermione scowled.
"And that gives you full reign to disapparate people whenever you want, does it?" Hermione considered hitting the wizard before her again, but thought the better of it. "What exactly do you think your wife will say when she sees me on the lawn of her house?" Hermione warily eyed the grounds as the words left her mouth. They were perfectly pruned and stately leading up to the manor, which showed no evidence of anything that had happened there a few years before.
"I've noticed for all your talk, you still have not left," Malfoy offered with an arrogant smirk. "If it concerns you, Narcissa was never planning to attend tonight's dinner. She's gone to visit Draco in Sweden. He's been travelling a few months and seems to have taken a liking to Gothenburg." Hermione, feeling a bit overwhelmed and unsure of what to say next decided glaring was the best option. Lucius ignored her and began the short remaining journey up the drive. "Are you coming, witch?" Hermione, against every iota of common sense she had, felt compelled to join the man. She took a deep breath to steady herself, after all, she was on his turf now.
Once through the threshold, Hermione's mouth almost dropped open. As she had blocked many things out from the war, she had forgotten the extent of lavishness that was Malfoy Manor. From the marble floors and imported rugs to the ornate fireplaces and sheer size of the house, everything was extravagant. Hermione took another steadying breath as she followed Malfoy into a room she had never been in previously, the parlour. Lucius gestured Hermione toward a Victorian sofa, where she graciously took a seat, mind spinning from both the wealth surrounding her and the insanity of her decisions. Immediately after Lucius took his seat beside the witch, a house elf appeared in the room, bowing very lowly to the wizard. Lucius eyed her briefly before turning to the elf.
"I think the Sauvignon Blanc will do." The elf nodded and bowed before disappearing. "I really do like them much better when they're quiet," Lucius mused.
"I assume you've heard about the legislation that would require house elves to be paid fair wages and accrue time off?" Hermione asked. "Oh, why thank you," She said as the elf had just reappeared with two glasses of white wine and the bottle on ice. The elf bowed yet again.
"You're dismissed." With a crack, the elf vanished. "Yes, I have heard of that ridiculous bill. I'll also marry a muggle before it's passed if I have anything to do with it. Oh, it's a good to be a Malfoy." Hermione gave him a scathing look, knowing full well his money could probably influence enough people to kill the bill, but chose to say nothing. Instead, she sat enjoying her glass of wine.
"You know, I don't really ever drink this."
"I'm aware," He replied as he sipped his wine. "You appear to be trying to survive off firewhiskey and muggle beer alone. You know that's really an unhealthy habit, I hear muggle libations are terrible for your liver."
"Yeah, me and that organ aren't exactly on speaking terms."
"I see," said Lucius as he took a sip of his wine before setting down his glass. "On to more serious business. I suggest that we have a trial run."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not interested in being your friend, Miss Granger," He said. "You appeal to very particular interests of mine and that is all." Lucius grabbed Hermione's hand placed it against the crotch of his trousers. She could feel the heat radiating off his manhood as it stirred before she snatched her digits back.
"What the fuck, Malfoy?" She yelled, suddenly on her feet.
"Oh, give it a rest, girl. You think by now I can't tell when a woman wants me? Why don't you just stop worrying about being right or good or whatever the hell you're so preoccupied with and open yourself up to pleasure you can't even imagine?"
"Okay." The word fell from Hermione's lips without thought.
"Okay? As persuasive as I am, I know you are not so easily convinced typically." He eyed her critically for a moment. "Tell me, do you want me?"
"Yes." Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, unsure where the word had come from. Lucius smirked and relaxed further back into the couch.
"Excellent," He murmured. "It appears to be working."
"What appears to be working exactly?" Hermione asked, afraid of her traitorous mouth.
"I suppose it's in the risk you take when accepting drinks from strangers...or old enemies." He smiled wryly. "I slipped a potion quite similar to Veritaserum into your wine. I was tired of playing games and this potion has the added effect of you following my commands."
"Why can't I move?" She demanded, for as much as her mind was telling her body to get out as fast as possible, her body paid no mind.
"You can, but under the influence of this particular magic, your body will only act voluntarily in accordance with your true desires. Clearly, you don't truly desire to move at the moment. Now enough with the mundane questions, mudblood. Have you considered my offer?"
"Yes." Hermione again covered her mouth with her hand as if to halt the words coming out.
"You wish to proceed?" He inquired, leaning forward ever so slightly. Hermione nodded. "Let me see your body then," Lucius spoke as he reclined back, fingers elegantly steepled across his chest. "All of it, Miss Granger."
"N-no."
"Let me clarify: that was an order, not a request."
Slowly, Hermione began to fumble with the buttons on her blouse, eventually letting the fabric slip off her shoulders.
"Not the heels," Malfoy interrupted as she reached for her shoes. Hermione closed her eyes and instead reached for her skirt, slowly unzipping it and allowing the fabric to fall to the floor. She paused briefly before proceeding to her bra. "That's enough," The older wizard called as she reached for the straps. She glared at him with defiant eyes as he rose from his seat and began leisurely circling her. "Such harsh looks are quite unnecessary. I wouldn't be wasting my time if I doubted you yearn for what I want." He appraised her body, clad only in emerald green lingerie and black stilettos, stopping behind her to admire her derrière. "Interesting colour choice for a Gryffindor," He murmured into her ear as he ran a finger down one of her bra straps.
Hermione shivered at Lucius' proximity. He ran a hand along her right hip while the fingers of his left danced down her upper arm. "Do you fantasize about me, Miss Granger?" He watched over her shoulder as she nodded in the affirmative. "Interesting..." He removed his hands and walked around to her front, staring down at her with steely eyes. "Your husband, Miss Granger, you love him?"
"Yes," Hermione spoke proudly, staring right back at him.
"Yet you desire me? You desire a Malfoy who views your blood heritage as little better than a muggle? You desire a former Death Eater?" The witch before him remained mute, but the potion compelled her to nod again in the affirmative. "Perfect." He handed the glass holding the remainder of his wine to the brunette before him. "Drink that. It has vervain in it. Very useful in neutralizing the effect of many potions."
"You just tricked me by spiking my drink with a truth serum, why in the bloody hell should I trust you?"
"Because you wouldn't be here if you didn't." Lucius watched with mild interest as she begrudgingly accepted his drink, sniffing it as if searching for some foul play. "Honestly, you've just seen me drink it, it's clearly not going to kill you. Draco used to tell me how clever you were, but it seems he was rather mistaken." Hermione took a sip while eyeing the wizard apprehensively. Lucius' wine tasted just as delicious as hers had, except with a slight cooling finish that seemed to clear her mind. Immediately Hermione began reaching for her clothes.
"You bloody fucking prick, I'll hex you into oblivion."
"Lovely language, Miss Granger. Well, this evening has been quite amusing, but I'll be turning in now. I'm sure you know the way out?" With one last smug look, Malfoy senior left the parlour where Hermione remained buttoning her blouse with unsteady fingers.
As soon as she was remotely decent, she rushed out of the manor and apparated home, her emotions a barely containable amalgamation of rage, lust, guilt, and confusion. She was grateful for her empty flat where she was wasn't forced to keep up pretences for Ron. She occupied her mind by preparing for bed in an entirely muggle fashion: removing her makeup, showering, brushing her teeth, and slipping into her nightwear managed to consume an hour of her time before she was wrapped in her bed forced to consider what had transpired between her and Malfoy. Her smoldering anger was still lingering which crossed out sleep as a possibility
How could she be so blatantly foolish? Why hadn't she left when she had the chance? What possessed her, inside Malfor Manor, to accept a drink proffered by the patriarch of the house with no witness aside from the resident house elf who's bound to keep the family secrets? Hermione had prided herself on being both a clever and cautious witch, yet her actions of the evening reflected neither of those attributes. Then there was the matter of the man himself. She fiercely wanted to unabashedly loathe him, but found it somewhat difficult. His self-assurance was quite the attractive quality to her even if he erred on the side of arrogance and that's not to say anything about his looks which were rather disarming. She was furious that he had tricked her, but at the same time, he hadn't really harmed anything about her other than her pride. She was even more furious at herself, for when he had placed her hand on his crotch, she very much wanted the man before her in the most intimate of ways.
She rolled over in bed, finding that Crookshanks had crawled into Ron's usual spot where he lay curled up, purring lightly. She considered Ron; a couple hours ago she was glad he was out of the country so she could be alone in their flat, though she now wished he was by her side to aid in abating her unwanted thoughts. She desperately wished to love him as she previously had in her youth. Between the war and their loss, Hermione had felt she had lived far too much for twenty-three short years. She wanted to be carefree and so passionate about her husband, about all the prospects their future held, not sleeping alone in his absence and entertaining fantasies about her former classmate's wedded father.
After her encounter with one Lucius Malfoy, the relationship between Hermione and Ron declined from bad to worse. Upon her husband's arrival from Bulgaria, she thought she would feel relief, but instead felt wrought with guilt. She didn't want him to touch her, yet she couldn't explain to him that the reason was because she felt dirty after being touched by another man. Three weeks of work had gone by and Hermione was feeling ambivalent about the lack of appearances by a certain blond aristocrat. Hermione had last seen him during her unplanned visit to Malfoy Manor. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to kiss him or kill him, but felt confident seeing him would help her sort it out.
On Tuesday morning, a different blond strolled into the office. Dressed in all black, Draco Malfoy looked particularly pale as he sneered in Hermione's direction.
"They still employ mudbloods here?" He asked, eyeing the office with reproach.
"Relax, Malfoy, none are going to pop out of a cupboard and attack. Aren't you supposed to be in Sweden anyway?" He turned to stare at her.
"And who, pray tell, told you that, Granger?" Hermione's mind quickly returned to her conversations with the elder Malfoy before she reeled it back in. Draco took her silence with indifference. "I suppose it's not important. Is my cousin in?"
"No, he's at brunch with the head of Magical Law Enforcement. Can't say how long they'll be, care to leave a message?"
"I would send an owl, but I suppose it is your job and I'm already here." Hermione rolled her eyes at this. "Let him know father expects him for dinner again this evening."
"Again?"
"Not that it is any of your business, but yes, again. As I have other matters to attend to, all of which are more important than banal conversation with a mudblood, I'll be on my way. See to it Damien gets my message."
After Draco had left, Hermione considered his message. Apparently the frequency of communication between her boss and Lucius hadn't changed, just the venue. This puzzled her; had Malfoy suddenly changed preference or was he deliberately avoiding her? She knew enough about Malfoys to know they never gave up quite this easily. By the end of the work day, between scheduling appointments and filling out reports, she had convinced herself maybe Malfoy had simply found something or someone else to occupy his attentions. Hermione had just finished packing her things when one of the inner office memos, the usual charmed paper airplane, flew onto her desk. As she read the message, her breath caught.
"I'm still waiting and I can be an incredibly patient man, but I will have my way."
The paged ended in a familiarly inscribed "L.M." Hermione briefly lost track of the time as she stared at the elegant penmanship and the underlying threat in the author's words. A sudden knock on the door frame jarred her back to reality.
"'Mione, are you ready? Harry's just invited us over for dinner and I thought I'd try to catch you before you apparated home." Ron was trying his best to appear carefree as he smiled at her.
"Absolutely," She replied, quickly tucking the note into her bag as she threw it over her shoulder. She kissed Ron on the cheek and reached for her husband's hand, taking him by surprise at the sudden affection. "Let's go."
Hope that wasn't too bad. I felt weird referencing vervain since I'm not writing about The Vampire Diaries, but it is mentioned in the Harry Potter wiki (my savior for accuracy), so there's that. I also apologize for the wait, it took a bit longer for me to get inspired this go around and I've also noticed each of my chapters have increased in length. Anyway, so there you have it, your first glimpse of some HG/LM...I don't know if one could really call it intimacy, but you get the idea. My semester starts on Monday so I may be a bit busier and writing a bit less frequently, but I have no intentions of abandoning the story. Cheers.