Chapter 7

Hermione woke again to the merry crackling of a hearth fire. Her eyelids fluttering open, she realized she hadn't been brought to her temporary bedroom, but was instead on a very comfortable, plush, ornate sofa in the middle of what had to be the Malfoy library.

Holy. Shit.

It was like the library of legends. Massive floor to ceiling, beautifully carved, wooden bookcases, filled with books upon books upon books. It put every personal library Hermione had ever seen or even thought of having to shame. She sat up slowly and looked around, wide-eyed.

There was a second fucking story! An ornate, cast iron railing lined the top walkway, where bookshelves lined the walls, separated by huge windows, where light tumbled through, bathing the book haven in a wash of warm, late afternoon light.

Hermione blinked. She must have been asleep for a long time again.

She jumped when she heard Malfoy's voice from behind her.

"How do you feel Miss Granger?" She turned quickly, her eyes meeting his gaze as he sat in another stupidly expensive looking armoire that was close to the massive fireplace behind her. A book sat in his lap.

Had he been here the whole time reading again?

His face was guarded, his eyes taking in her face, searching for something.

Hermione took stock. No headache like last time. All her limbs seemed to be working fine. Nothing hurt or felt out of order. She was just overwhelmingly exhausted. Tired to her very bones.

"I think I'm alright. Are you? I didn't take too much did I?" His eyes softened.

"I'm just fine Miss Granger. Nothing that a little rest can't restore." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Even if she was hellbent on trying to hate the man or at least keep him at a distance, he had voluntarily given her his magic, and she didn't want that to blow up in his face when it felt like he did it genuinely. Plus, she'd rather be the only one hurt by the ancient power, regardless of her very mixed personal feelings toward him.

"Where are the others?" She asked, turning her body toward the wizard as the angle of her neck in her attempt to look at him was a tad uncomfortable.

"At their respective homes. We all agreed that you needed rest. We've decided to wait two days time before we try to begin again."

Hermione nodded silently, drawing her knees up to her chest. Two days was a long time to just sit tight at the Manor, but she wasn't exactly adamant they start again as soon as possible. The thought of meeting Voldemort's magic again made her skin crawl. Lucius was right (even though she'd never say that out loud). She needed to rest. Those two days were probably necessary.

"Miss Granger." Malfoy's voice was soft. She looked up at him, her chin resting on her knees. That same unreadable look was on his face, his eyes boring into her very soul. That was one thing about those Malfoy eyes: you never questioned if you were truly seen with them. He seemed to be extra gentle toward her, even more so than the first time she had awakened in his presence after a bout with the power the simmered within her.

"Do you remember today?" Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the question.

"Of course I do. We were trying to seal off Voldemort's power into one area and—" her voice choked off as the memories bombarded her mind. The laughter. His words. Her rage.

Her heart started to race and her breath became labored. Her hands went up to grip her forehead, trying to squeeze out the terrified thoughts that were raging inside of her. Tears welled up in her screwed shut eyes.

They knew.

He knew.

She was too enveloped in her own panic to recognize the feeling of a weight shift as someone sat down near her. Large and gentle hands wrapped around her, pulling her into Malfoy's lap. And he cradled her there.

She didn't recoil. She wanted to be held by him. Wanted the physical contact, the comfort. Being encircled by his strong arms made her feel the safest she had felt in a long time. It was laughably absurd: her craving safety from one of the most unsafe people she had ever come into contact with. But with him, everything felt right. Everything fit.

It can't feel right. This wasn't right.

She needed to get away.

She didn't want to get away.

She was so tired.

It was too much.

It was overwhelming.

She started to cry. That was the only thing she could do because everything else was so out of control. Her arms wrapped around Malfoy's neck instinctively as she buried her face in his chest. Sobs wracked her body.

She was too overwhelmed to even care that he saw her tears. Too ashamed by the thought of him knowing her deepest, blackest secret to feel shame about crying..

"I'm so sorry, Miss Granger," he whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion, his arms tightening their grip on her. "I took the memories from the Aurors and you can freely take mine should you decide to."

Merlin, why did he have to be so damn nice? Why did he have to say the absolute perfect thing to say in that moment? Why wasn't he hateable right now?

His hands ran up and down her back, brushed through her hair gently, offering sweet and comforting touches.

Gods he even was perfect at dealing with a over emotional witch.

After some time, her tears subsided because no one can cry forever.

She was absolutely spent and so comfortable in his arms that she didn't want to move. She felt like she could stay there forever.

But Hermione untangled her arms from around his neck, lifting her head so that she could wipe her face on the back of her hands. With a flourish, Malfoy handed her a white handkerchief with a silver snake embroidered into an M shape. Hermione snorted as she took it, using it to clean her face a little better than what a hand could do.

"Something funny, Miss Granger?" The wizard said softly, gentle amusement tinging his words.

"Oh it's nothing besides you being the biggest cliche of all time," Hermione responded lightly as she held the dirty handkerchief in her hands. Her voice sounded stuffy and thick, fresh off a good cry.

The man chuckled, his laugh rumbling in his chest, and plucked the cloth from her fingers, vanishing it in an instant.

"Good thing I'm a cliche then. That way you can thoroughly predict all my actions," he said dryly.

Hermione snorted. "Mister Malfoy, you are the hardest man to even try to guess at what you're about to do." She kept her face down, hidden by her hair, not wanting to show Malfoy the after effects of crying. One of his hands still moved up and down her back, supporting her seated position but still offering a small touch of comfort, the other had fallen casually to rest on her thigh.

"Lucius."

She raised her head to blink at him, thoughts of her reddened crying face gone. "What?"

"Call me Lucius. I think we've more than enough breached the first name usage barrier." His tone was still light, but his silver eyes were intensely watching her face, waiting for her reaction.

What the hell. It's not like the whole situation was incredibly absurd anyway. What could calling him by his given name hurt at this point?

"Alright... Lucius." It was almost like she expected his name to be poisonous but, in fact, it tasted good on her tongue, rolled off it in a familiar way. His eyes flashed with what looked like triumph when she said it aloud.

"Thank you, Hermione."

Oh, well damn, she hadn't expected him to return the favor. On his lips, her name sounded sensual, exotic, sinful. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, marveling at the sound it made when it was speaking her name. How the bloody hell did he do that?

Lucius's hand moved up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into his touch, sighing in contentment. Everything about him made her feel safe, protected, warm. It didn't make sense, it went against everything she believed as a strong and independent witch, everything she believed in her desire to dislike the wizard, but she was too tired to make sense of anything right now. All she knew is she liked it when Lucius Malfoy held her, when he touched her, and for some reason she trusted him enough to lean on him. Something in her told her she could. But again, she was too tired to delve into that vague emotion.

His hand moved down to lift her chin, his thumb swiping over her bottom lip. Hermione opened her eyes to see Lucius looking back at her, molten silver displaying heat that made her heart race. And in the good way.

"Gods, little lioness," the man gave a pained whisper, letting his head fall back to rest of the backboard of the sofa, showing off his masculine neck and collarbone in a particularly attractive way. "You're going to ruin me."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Wha—? How could I—? I'm sorry I don't—." She went silent when his lifted his head, that liquid mercury gaze making heat flair in her belly. When he looked at her like that, it felt like she was the only witch in the world.

Her body hummed and all she wanted was him again. She shifted her hips, trying to deal with the heat that had spread downward.

Lucius hissed, his eyelids fluttering. The hand that rested on her thigh rose up to wrap around the back of her neck, his thumb on the side of her jawline, as he turned her head to look at him face to face.

"Careful, witch." He voice was rough, but not harsh.

Hermione flushed, realizing what she had done.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean— I didn't know—" she made to move off of his lap, but he caught her wrist. Firmly enough to indicate that she should stay, gentle enough that she could easily break free should she want to. Hermione went still.

He brought her wrist up to his mouth and gently pressed his lips against her pulse point. She gasped at the contact, suddenly wonderfully sensitive to touch. Something about it was so utterly lovely but so incredibly erotic.

Lucius smirked at her as he lifted his head, but he released her wrist and let it drop back to her lap. He tucked a rampant curl behind her ear and drew his long finger along her jawline to rest under her chin, meeting her wide eyed stare with a soft expression.

"You've had a long day Hermione," he said softly. "I wanted to show you something. Maybe make it a little better than the shitty start."

Hermione gave a surprised laugh at his coarseness. But with a nod, she gently rose up to stand above him. He stood to meet her and she realized that she hadn't exactly stepped back and now suddenly they were chest to chest.

Well, chest to upper abdomen as the man dwarfed her considerably.

He smiled kindly down at her and gave a light chuckle as she shied away quickly, backing up three panicked steps. Why all of a sudden she felt shy and antsy at being near him when she was literally just sitting in his lap, she didn't know. But now she was all nerves and blushes.

Get a grip, Hermione. You're a grown ass woman, not a 12 year old school girl!

She cleared her throat, trying to regain her self-respect. "What is it you wanted to show me?" She looked at the wizard and her breath caught in her throat.

The blond looked ethereal standing in the golden glow of the sun rays that passed through the windows to the library. The light made his loose, long, white hair shine. He was again dressed in his white button down and exquisitely tailored slacks, but he was much more casual, his sleeves rolled up to the forearm and three buttons (Hermione counted) undone. On display was the beginning of his chest, the sunlight causing his white blond chest hair to gleam against the smooth skin. Honestly, it just wasn't fair that this man was this attractive.

He smiled at her. A genuine smile. The way the planes of his usually stoic face lifted to reveal the white pearlescent teeth was so endearing, so charming, Hermione wondered why he opted for his small smiles and smirks. If he wanted to get in a witch's knickers, all he had to do was flash one of those and they'd be his for the taking.

Lucius extended his right arm, motioning largely to the whole room.

"This."

/

She was breathtaking in the sunlight, the warm glow dancing across her skin pleasantly. The gold was brought out in her hair, but especially those intelligent eyes, those that looked at him confused.

Hermione was quite cute when she furrowed that brow, causing her lightly freckled nose to wrinkle just slightly.

Lucius chuckled at her confusion, almost giddy with excitement for what he was about to give her.

"The Malfoy library has been compiled over hundreds of years. There's first editions here, books that were burned and never reprinted, treasures from the magical literary world. The information stored here is worth more than anything else I own. I have been asked to donate or release them by Hogwarts, by wizarding archives, but, selfishly, I don't think I can part with them." As he spoke, the witch turned slowly to take in the room, her wild honeyed curls swishing behind her. Every movement was careful, awestruck at what she was witnessing. Lucius paused to let her have a moment and began again when she had turned back to him.

"And you will have unlimited access to it."

She gaped at him, not comprehending. "W-What?" Her eyes were wide.

"From this time on, count this as your personal library, open to you at any time. Even when this ordeal is finished, you may come whenever you please. The Floo has been connected to your office and it is easily shut off should you feel uncomfortable having it directly open to here at all hours of the day."

"Mr. M— Lucius— I— I don't—," She stuttered at him breathily.

"It's the least I could do after this. It's a small token of my thanks, but one that I hope you could come to—" the breath knocked out of him as the small witch barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, almost knocking him over in the process.

Hermione buried her face in the crook of his neck, on her tiptoes to reach to embrace him in this way.

"You mean it?" She said quietly, almost fearfully, like he might take it back.

Lucius smiled as his arms snaked around her waist, pressing her tightly to himself in a warm embrace.

"Yes, Hermione." He murmured into her ear.

He felt her body shiver and heard the quiet intake of breath. The Veela purred underneath his skin, content at first with simply holding the witch, but suddenly starting to grumble, wanting desperately to take her and mark her as his.

Lucius closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths through his nose, wanting to contain the beast and maintain his composure. On the couch, he had almost kissed her again, but quickly bit back the urge. She had been through a lot today and now that he had the impression that that monster had touched her, he didn't want to spook her or even possibly add to her distress.

But everything about the girl fit. Perfectly.

Whenever he held her, his body sang in contentment. The conversation last night in the kitchen was the type of comfortable like that of talking to an old friend. Having her walk around his house barefoot drove him crazy. Her presence was exhilarating. He couldn't get enough of her, like she was 500 year old Odgen's and he an alcoholic.

Hermione drew back, but still kept her arms resting on his shoulders, his arms still wrapped around her waist, and looked up at him, a smile gleaming at her lips. Lucius inhaled sharply. He would do anything to keep that smile on her face forever. Fuck all this nonsense about him just wanting to bed her. This witch could make him grovel at his feet for her and he would do so willingly, if it meant that she would be his.

Her eyes sparkling, she spoke, quite breathlessly. "Thank you, Mister—Lucius. I don't know how I could ever repay—"

"A gift affords no repayment, Hermione. That's the whole point of it being a gift," Lucius interrupted lightly, a small smile pulling his lips.

"But I— You— why?" Suddenly her eyebrows furrowed in that irritating way that meant she was thinking to hard. The girl tugged away from his arms, which he released her from the minute she put any resistance up. Her hands went into her hair, twisting it around her fingers, the usual sign her brain and nerves were working too hard. She went still, her hands dropping, and just looked at him. Square in the face.

"You hate me."

Lucius's eyebrows rose, thoroughly taken aback. Had he not been clear enough? Was this the thing she held onto in order to convince herself that her desire for him was wrong? "And what, pray tell, makes you think that, Hermione?" His voice was flat, his face now completely blank.

The girl averted her eyes, a blush blossoming over her nose and cheeks. Her mouth opened and moved, as if trying to work out what she wanted to say, but no sound came. She bit her lip. But then with a huff, she raised her eyes to meet his, defiantly.

"We won't bring up the past. That's over and done with. But you have made my life a living hell at work." Hermione's hands curled into fists and rested on her hips. "You're the sodding Manager of Affairs and you're overly involved in my department. Every new case you search through lwith a fine toothed comb, waiting for something to point out as incorrect. Your questionings during case readings are an utter waste of time and only serve to humiliate me! You randomly choose whether or not to vote for or against anything that I do. This last piece of legislation for the protection of werewolves was a fucking nightmare!"

She had worked herself up into a nice state, chest heaving with her angry breaths, eyes flashing.

There she was.

The lioness.

His lioness.

Go slowly, Lucius.

He moved towards her, but the witch stood her ground, glaring at him.

"Hermione, I do say you may be looking a tad too closely into these questionings. Nothing I have done was for the intent of—how did you put it the other day?—pissing you off." Her blush deepened, but her eyes flashed angrily again. The girl's chin raised in order to keep her eyes leveled with his as he drew closer, no ounce of fear on her face.

"Then why, pray tell, do you make my job ten thousand times harder than it needs to be?" Her voice was acid.

"Because, Hermione," he practically purred her name, loving her reaction to the sound dripping from his lips. "It needed to be."

Her eyebrows knit together. "Oh for Merlin's sake, enough with this stupid mysterious cryptic speak," she cried, utterly exasperated. Lucius smirked as he continued to move toward her, narrowing the space between them as he allowed the Veela to take over just enough to corner her. His Veela was getting stronger and harder to control each day he was around her and letting it out for a couple moments should help alleviate some pressure. She hadn't realized that her back was to a rather large shelf.

"Tell me, Hermione. How does it feel when you finally get my yes? When one of your atrociously long bills finally passes? Is it euphoric?" Her eyes had dilated. Good. "Tell me, how does it feel when you have full command of the Wisengamot? When you're on the floor and everyone's eyes on you, completely captivated? How does it feel to fight for what you believe in? And to eventually win?"

"But you—but some—" She spluttered, backing up from him as her brain started the reel.

"Hermione. Every single bill that you have drafted has passed. Some took longer, yes. But they all have."

"But the werewolf—"

"Was incomplete. This is a radical bill and the Wizengamot will be just as heinous to handle as they were with the House Elves. But it can pass as long as some loose ends are tied."

"But you said—"

"I was mistaken. I thought it was complete and it wasn't. I read it over again the other day and saw a blatant issue with how we dole out punishments toward those werewolves that choose to remain wild and unhindered."

Her back hit the ledge of the reading table connected to the bookcase, her hands automatically flying backward to grasp the edge as if making sure it really was a barrier. Her eyes were wide and Lucius could practically see her thoughts trying to make sense of what was happening. She looked up at him, her teeth worrying that bottom lip again.

"You read it?"

"The whole sodding thing. I read them all. Every single bloody page. Every single time."

And suddenly the little witch of light and warmth had barreled into him again, her arms wrapping around his neck, fingers intertwining in his hair, and her sweet little mouth crashing onto his.

/

Hermione didn't know what she was doing. There was no control. Only joy. And confusion. And desire.

And heat.

Sweet Merlin, she was so hot.

Her fingers looped in the silky white blond Malfoy hair as she pushed his head down to meet her lips. He was surprised at first, but soon met her passion with his own fire. His hands reached up, tangling in her curls, cupping her cheeks, brushing her face, gently and lovingly.

But his mouth. Gods his mouth. How did someone learn how to kiss like this?

His lips were firm, unyielding, taking from her every kiss, making them his. His teeth dragged across her bottom lip, bringing it into his mouth in a gentle suckle, making her gasp at the sensation. As her mouth opened, his tongue slipped through, exploring her, drawing her out to him, riling her so she matched his energy, rising to the challenge. Hermione kissed him back just as hard, never one to back down, but also the magick within her was pulsing deliciously, spurring her on. Her heart thrummed in her ears, her body sang as she melted into his arms.

Lucius walked her backwards, his mouth never leaving hers as he consumed her, dominated her, overwhelmed her. Everything about how he kissed made her breathless. He would switch from deep passion to light loveliness, keeping her on her toes, unable to form coherent thought. He was in full control of everything, and Hermione leaned into it, loving every second of giving herself to him.

Her back hit the bookcase again. Lucius's hands brushed down her sides, leaving feather light touches down her arms, teasing her as her body craved more contact. His large hands yet again grabbed her ass firmly and, after giving it a tight squeeze and pressing a self-satisfied smirk into her mouth at her shudder at the touch, the wizard lifted her up onto the reading shelf so that her face was now level with his. Her knees automatically spread to rest outside of his hips, her arms pulling him closer as they kissed.

Lucius wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, deliciously in control as he moved her head to stretch upwards to the side as he released her mouth to plant light, sensual kisses along her jawline and down her neck. Hermione couldn't help but give out light gasps and small sounds as every touch of his lips to her body sent another flare of heat right to her core. The wizard ran his free hand along the outside of her thigh, grabbing her delicately under her knee to pull her even closer to him. When the apex of thighs met his, Hermione moaned at the friction, Lucius's name falling from her lips.

The man went still. He slowly rose up to meet her face to face. Hermione's eyes widened, trying to control her breathing, almost fearful that she had done something wrong. Was she bad at this? Did she do something that offended him? Did he finally remember that he hated her?

Lucius's eyes were the lightest she had ever seen them, almost white with a silver sheen. He took long, deep breaths as his eyes bore into her very soul. His hands had gone to her waist, gently holding her hips, his thumbs massaging the junction between her waist and legs, just hard enough of a touch to make Hermione feel like she was coming undone, but his eyes held her steady, even though she felt like just closing her eyes and feeling.

"Say it again."

His voice was sin. Richer and deeper than she had ever heard it before. Hermione almost moaned at the pulse that it sent through her.

"W—What?" She responded breathlessly, confused. His face drew close to hers, his eyes almost gleaming.

"My name witch. Say it again."

She complied immediately, shivering as his command did wicked things to her, his name passing through her swollen mouth, perhaps even more breathlessly this time. Lucius's eyes had dropped to her mouth as she spoke, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, his thumb swiping across her lower lip.

He smirked. The delicious, sensual smirk that made Hermione's toes curl. "Good girl."

She moaned, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, as she felt another pulse in reaction to his praise. His hand gripped her hip harder and then suddenly she was airborne again. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around the man's waist, arms clinging to his neck.

Lucius carried her back to the sofa, settling down so that she was straddling him comfortably, her hips meeting his in a way that made her whole body sing. She could feel him underneath her, pressing against her in a way that made her feel almost triumphant in the knowledge that he was just as turned on as her.

She wasn't used to having to look down at him, but quite liked the angle as he had to incline his head to meet her eyes. They sat there for a quiet moment, taking each other in, eyes bright with lust, chests moving with ragged breath. Her hands still played in his hair, halfway distracted as she reveled in her ability to stroke through the strands without being caught in a knot like what happened every time her hands went in her hair. Her nails massaged his scalp, causing a deep rumble to come from his chest as his eyes flickered. And then he was on her again.

Hermione clung to him, holding on for dear life as he ravaged her mouth. His kiss was rougher this time, full of the frenzied passion that she could feel all the way down to her toes. Every time his lips moved against her, every time he stopped to trailed them along her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, her lower belly would clench deliciously and small sounds would escape her mouth.

Kissing shouldn't feel this good.

But with Lucius, everything felt good, incredible even.

Hermione was on fire. She needed more, but she couldn't figure out what. Instinctively, her hips rolled, brushing against Lucius in a way that made her cry out as the rough fabric of her jeans dragged across her most sensitive area. A low growl came from Lucius. They broke apart, breathing heavily.

He held her gaze as his hands slowly, agonizingly slowly, rose up to her hips. Still maintaining eye contact, a devilish smile on his lips, he thrust his pelvis upwards, pulling hers downwards, and rolled into her. Hermione threw her head back as she cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation as pleasure rocked through her body.

Her back bowed over as she moved to rest her forehead on Lucius's shoulder, trembling, completely overwhelmed by how her body felt. The wizard gave a small laugh and murmured into her ear, sending shivers down her body as his breath caressed her ear and neck.

"Feel good, witch?" His voice. Gods his voice. That deep voice sent another flare of heat to her center and Hermione gasped as she unconsciously rolled her hips, eliciting a quiet "fuck" from Lucius.

Oh.

Oh she could listen to him forever.

And she was the one making him sound like that.

Hermione bit her lip as she rolled her hips again.

Lucius gave a low grunt and and then thrust up against her again, hands guiding her hips. Hermione's whole body shuddered and she undulated onto him, seeking that wonderful friction that made her thrum.

His mouth found hers again as they continued their sensual movement. One of his hands trailed along the hem of her shirt, slowly finding its way under the cloth. He held onto her waist, thumb stroking her stomach. Hermione's body started to tremble, overcome by his touch. His hand moved upwards slowly, until he gently brushed the underside of her left breast. Suddenly her brain started to wake, but, almost as he could read her mind, he delicately bit her bottom lip and she was lost again.

His hand moved to cup her breast over her bra, delicately molding it. Hermione started to become louder as every sensation was coming to a head. The friction against the apex of her thighs, he wonderful mouth against hers, his hand doing fantastic things to her body. Her nipples hardened against his ministrations and Lucius gave the one under his hand a light squeeze.

Hermione gasped and her head fell backwards. Lucius sat up to follow her, mouth licking and sucking at her collarbone, causing her toes to curl.

Her hips still moved against his, seemingly of their own accord, the rough material hitting her in a way that made Hermione want to scream. The steady pace of their hips, his hand moving back and forth between each breast, his mouth suckling her and caressing her, it was all starting to build up. She could feel a sense almost like a coil start low in her belly.

Oh it felt good.

The coil started to tighten.

She had never felt anything like this.

Except she had.

Terror washed over her like a bucket of cold water and she went still, her eyes widening in horror, her body trembling for some other reason.

Sensing her change, Lucius immediately stopped and raised his head to look at her questioningly.

Hermione wrenched herself from his arms and his lap, standing over him as she wrapped her arms around herself, shaking.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't— I don't—" she gave a quiet sob and raced from the beautiful library and straight to her bedroom.

/

Ah, the good ole cliffhanger. Glad things are finally starting to heat up a little more ;) We'll see where they end up.

Kinda proud this chapter didn't take as long for me to get out to y'all. Let me know what you think of it! I absolutely love hearing from y'all! Peace and Love 3