A/N: This is a pretty short chapter; it's kind of a transition to what will come next…. :D
Hermione disapparated from Lucius's doorstep and ended up in her own kitchen, miraculously un-splinched. Considering her distracted mind, thoughts buzzing like bees around her skull, it was surprising that she had made it home intact. Her blood was thumping in her veins, and she shivered pleasurable as she remembered Lucius's hands hard on her waist, and the feel of his body pressing against hers. She grinned to herself as she remembered how his eyes had raked from her inappropriate heels up the expanse of her legs and, after lingering on the collar of her shirt, to her face.
Hermione made herself a cup of hot tea, burning her tongue as she absentmindedly took a sip when it was too hot. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity and healed the mild burn on the tip of her tongue. Hermione spent the rest of the day looking up articles about Lucius Malfoy, both recently and from around Voldemort's previous rise to power. The most recent ones mostly extolled his virtues as a death-eater-gone-philanthropist, and there were several press releases about huge sums of money that he had donated to various charitable post-war recovery centers. She found herself gazing at Lucius's face as it smirked out at her from the picture taken before his confinement in Azkaban, with his usual chilly composure. Realizing that she was nearly drooling, Hermione scolded herself. He was just a client, who had come seeking her help with a problem of a magical nature. He was a notoriously cruel death eater and had been one of Voldemort's most loyal supporters, although Hermione had decided after the battle of Hogwarts that he wasn't truly evil. He was power-hungry to a fault, but when it came down to it, he cared more about Draco than his ambitions as a death eater. She remembered the revulsion on his face when Voldemort mercilessly killed Charity Burbage, the ex-Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts. She hadn't been there, of course, but she remembered the scene from Snape's memories. And there was also that day when she had been taken to Malfoy Manor along with Harry and Ron. Lucius had surely recognized her and Ron the moment he saw them, but he hadn't said anything. They probably owed him their lives.
Hermione fell asleep thinking about Lucius, and she had another dream. She was in Malfoy Manor being led up a marble staircase by Lucius Malfoy, but she seemed to get smaller and smaller and as the steps rose above her head, Narcissa Malfoy appeared and hissed, "You're going to be just another one of his sluts, the ones who end up buried under hedges and trapped in stone abscesses beneath the house. He will never want you as he wanted me."
For the third time that week, Hermione awoke sweating and panting, illuminating the lamp beside her bed in order to banish the frightening remains of her dream. She flopped back onto her pillows, wiping the hair from her forehead where it was sticking to her sweaty skin in damp strands. She took a few deep breaths and rationalized that Lucius's style was to intimidate, and because she was a hormonal young woman, the best way in which to accomplish that was by making sexual advances.
But what if I don't mind his sexual advances? What if I desire them? What if I daydream about him running his fingers over-" Hermione cut her internal monologue off, not willing to let that thought progress any further. It wouldn't do to be distracted while attempting to counter dark magic curses, and if she let that train of thought reach its destination, she surely would not be able to concentrate on Wednesday.
Hermione spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in a restless state, not quite sleeping yet not fully awake. Every so often she would feel as though his eyes were on her, those icy eyes that seemed to create a fire in the pit of Hermione's stomach. She found herself longing for the press of his body against hers, but she knew that that would be utterly impossible. Lucius Malfoy was a pureblood of the oldest and most distinguished line. He surely would never even consider associating with someone of her status, despite his alleged increased tolerance.
Hermione awoke in the morning feeling wound-up and frustrated with herself. She couldn't have him; it would be utterly inappropriate given the foundation on which their relationship was based. And even if she could have him, would he want her?