A/N Hi everyone, thank you as always for your lovely reviews, follows and faves. Thanks especially to the guest who left me such a kind review -I'm sorry I couldn't reply. Thanks also to ArtemisBare who gave me inspiration for Lucius' behaviour later in this chapter...
I hope this chapter is ok. I rushed a bit to get it out since I'm busy for the rest of the week so please excuse any glaring typos!
The afternoon had turned to evening and taken on a strangely dreamlike quality. They had lingered over their food for far longer than Hermione had planned. After all, she was only here to see the library. Instead, she had found herself caught up in the moment, savouring the food and wine... and the company. If she was not very much mistaken Lucius Malfoy was flirting with her...with her, Hermione Granger. She must be mistaken.
Regretfully she placed a hand over her glass as before he could refill it.
"Thank you, it really is delicious but I've had enough. I'm not used to drinking." She could feel the flush that alcohol always brought to her cheeks.
"In that case, I should take you upstairs."
She blushed even harder at that, all sorts of images of running unbidden through her mind.
"Oh, you mean to see the library." Had she really just said that out loud? The wine had made her sluggish.
Malfoy smirked. "Why Miss Granger, whatever did you think I meant?"
"Nothing, nothing." She took the hand he offered and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She staggered slightly, from the wine or her own inherent clumsiness she didn't know, but she found herself briefly pressed against him. For a moment her palm rested against his chest. He had not replaced his robes when they had finished cooking and she could feel the heat of his body through the thin cotton of his shirt. She fought the urge to slip her fingers into the space between the buttons or to run her hand down the firm breadth of his chest and across his abdomen.
She stepped back abruptly, running a hand through her hair and avoiding his gaze. She was incredibly grateful when he didn't speak but preceded her from the room, holding the kitchen door open for her to pass through. Their bodies brushed together once more in the narrow hallway and she inhaled eagerly, as if she could take some of the essence of him into herself, to be enjoyed at a later date.
He politely gestured for her to take the lead down the hallway and she was certain she could feel his hot silver gaze burning into her back as he strode silently behind her. She was grateful when they entered the library. Not just because she desperately needed to widen her resources if she wanted to have any hope of succeeding with her mastery but because the sight of so many books and scrolls effectively distracted her from the almost overwhelming attraction she was currently feeling toward her host.
The library was vast, larger even than the facility at Hogwarts and infinitely more luxurious. Scattered between the shelves were overstuffed armchairs, gilded chaise lounges, and battered Chesterfield sofas. It was completely different to what she had seen of the rest of the manor. Those rooms were fastidiously decorated around a given theme, the library was a hodgepodge of the comfortable and the beautiful, clearly designed more for the former than the latter. She loved it.
"I took the liberty of isolating any texts I thought you would find useful." Malfoy moved further into the room, apparently unaware of her response to her surroundings or to him. He strolled through the stacks, only pausing to look back at her when she failed to follow. "It is rather magnificent I suppose," he said, without any hint of false modesty.
"You have no idea how lucky you are." Hermione gently trailed her fingers over the spines of the books as she passed them.
"Luck has nothing to do with it Miss Granger, it's all down to hard work and careful curation."
She stared up at him, her mouth dropping open in surprise. "You mean...you?" She looked around her again. There were thousands of books, tens of thousands. "You, created this?"
He nodded. "There was a small library here when I inherited the manor, of course, but I have added significantly to it over the years. It became something of an obsession." His face softened as he looked around him and Hermione caught her breath wondering if he would ever look like her in that manner and what her response might be if he did.
"The Trollish texts are here." He had moved again and indicated a large stack of books set on an ornate writing desk beneath one of the many windows.
Hermione almost ran to the pile and began to sort through them excitedly, giving off the occasional squeak of pleasure as she found a particularly coveted title. "Can I..." she gestured toward the table, "I mean, may I?"
"Be my guest." Malfoy pulled out the seat for her. "Do you require anything else, some tea perhaps?"
"Maybe later," Hermione spoke absently, her nose already buried in the book that had been topmost on the pile. Malfoy gave a soft sigh which she barely registered.
It was hours later she looked up realising that her back and wrists were aching from being bent too long over the table. She glanced around guiltily. She had become so engrossed in her work that she had no idea as to the whereabouts of her host. She spotted him easily enough; he was seated on a comfortable looking sofa, only a few feet away from her desk, and appeared to be engrossed in the book that was open on his lap. His legs were elegantly crossed and to her surprise, a small pair of silver-rimmed glasses rested on his nose. She tried and failed to hold back a chuckle at the sight of Lucius Malfoy in such a domestic setting.
He was intensely focused on the book in front of him. She couldn't help but wonder if that was how she looked when she was wholly absorbed in her own reading. She silently acknowledged that she probably didn't look half as beautiful, or as regal. Malfoy's eyes were slightly narrowed, his lips pursed and a long-fingered hand toyed absently with a lock of flaxen hair. As if he felt her eyes upon him he looked up.
"Ah, Miss Granger, you have returned." He smiled faintly.
"Sorry." She tried to discretely stretch her back. "Once I start reading I tend to get a little lost."
"I know the feeling." He placed a finger between the pages and folded his book closed. "Would you like some tea?"
"Yes please, if it's no trouble, and it's not too late." She looked around for a clock; it was already after 9 pm.
"I'm something of a night owl anyway." He raised his voice, "Arty."
There was a loud crack and a house elf appeared in front of him.
"Good evening Master, Miss." The house elf bowed politely at Malfoy, then Hermione. She was surprised to see that he was dressed in a crisply ironed pillowcase.
"Would you be so kind as to bring us some tea, Arty?"
"Of course Master, right away Master." The elf snapped out of sight and Hermione stared at Lucius for a long moment.
"Is there something the matter?" He asked eventually.
"Since when," the words were spoken before she could even consider repressing them, "have you been so polite to your elves?"
He smiled a little at her question, and marked his book properly, placing it to one side. "In all honesty, since Narcissa decided that backing the house elf rights campaign you were such an avid supporter of would do our reputation good. She insisted that we pay them and provide them with semi-decent clothing. She lost interest in the cause after a while, but I must admit by that point it had become second nature to me. They respond just as well to good manners as they do to threats."
"Indeed." Hermione found herself channelling her inner Severus. A thought occurred to her as she watched him watching her. "Might I ask you something else, Mr Malfoy?"
"Of course." He made an expansive gesture. "I am at your disposal."
She sniffed a little at his largesse. "Supposing you were to do something nice, motivated by genuine good will."
"I find such a scenario hard to imagine." His tone was flippant but his grey eyes were intent as he waited for her to finish.
"That's exactly what I mean." Hermione banged her hand down on the desk with such force that a few drops of ink flew from the inkwell and marred the parchment she had been writing on. "You're so intent on acting the villain that you won't even admit when you actually do something good. Don't you feel better treating the house elves like real people? Doesn't it make you feel good to entertain a Mudblood as a guest in your home?"
"Not when she uses language like that." Malfoy looked away, and moments later they were interrupted by the elf, bearing a tray loaded with tea things and small cakes.
"Won't you join me, Miss Granger?" He gestured politely to the space next to him on the sofa. Hermione sank into it cautiously, terribly aware of his large body, now only inches from her own. They reached in tandem for the handle of the teapot and Hermione felt his warm fingers close around hers.
"Please," he gestured toward the teapot, apparently unaffected by their touch, "as I said, I am not used to polite company these days."
"I'm not much used to polite company ever," she muttered as she poured tea for them both and handed him his cup. "With Harry and Ron, it's more of an every man for himself scramble for the kettle."
He smiled again, and they sipped in silence for a few moments before Malfoy said, "You are correct in some aspects Miss Granger. It eases my conscience considerably to treat my servants well and it is infinitely more pleasant having you here as my guest as opposed to you being my prisoner. But I cannot claim that my motives in any of these things are entirely altruistic, if I gain pleasure from an act then I cannot be claiming to do it for the greater good can it?"
Hermione tilted her head to one side. "But if we all thought in the same way then no action would ever be considered truly altruistic."
Malfoy shrugged. "Perhaps that is because true selflessness does not really exist." He looked away then and Hermione wondered if he had revealed more than he intended. "I have kept you too long from your work, please do not allow me to disturb you further."
It felt like a dismissal and she heeded the unspoken warning as she reached for the text she had abandoned earlier. She contemplated returning to the writing desk but elected to remain beside him on the sofa, telling herself firmly that it was purely for reasons of comfort, not because she enjoyed his physical presence and the almost touch of his long thigh only inches away from her own.
When she next looked up it was two am and Malfoy was asleep next to her on the couch. She carefully placed her book on the floor and gazed across at him. It was a luxury to be able to look at him without those watchful grey eyes staring back. Even passed out on a sofa he was elegant. His head rested on the heel of his hand which was propped on the arm of the couch. His hair spilled in delicate strands across his splayed fingers and caressed his exposed cheek. His lips were slightly parted but he didn't drool or snore, as Hermione undoubtedly would, were their situations reversed. Instead, he was surprisingly, preternaturally still.
She knew she should leave. The man was obviously tired and it was the height of bad manners to so outstay her welcome that the host had actually fallen asleep waiting for her to leave. Although Hermione thought, now that he was asleep there didn't really seem to be much harm in leaving him to slumber on. If she could just get a look at the text on mosses of the Karelides mountain range and perhaps that scroll that seemed to pertain to antidotes to common poisons… Being careful not to jostle the sleeping wizard next to her she reached for her beaded bag and extracted a vial of Pepper-up potion. Much to her chagrin, it was out of date, what sort of potions apprentice was she? Never mind, she thought, it should still work. She downed the potion in one, wincing as steam blew from her ears and nose. Minutes later she returned to her studies feeling rejuvenated.
A ray of early morning sun shone directly into her eyes and woke her from the fitful sleep she had fallen into. She blinked irritably, trying to gather together her thoughts, wondering exactly where she was. A library…..well, it wouldn't be the first time she had fallen asleep in one of those. Her head was pillowed on something warm and lumpy which gave a sudden twitch beneath her. Only an innate sense of self-preservation prevented her from shrieking in surprise. Instead, she forced herself to lie still and to remember where she was.
It all came flooding back. She was in Malfoy Manor. She had taken a Pepper-up potion in order to pull an all-nighter. Now she seemed to be lying on a sofa with her head pillowed on Malfoy's lap. She replayed that thought. Bloody hell, her head was pillowed on Malfoy's lap, and if she wasn't very much mistaken Lucius Malfoy was no more immune than the next man to the curse of morning wood.
As if to reward her for her quick thinking his cock twitched impatiently against her cheek. Well, this was unexpected. Hermione swallowed nervously. Obviously, she should leap to her feet and get the hell out of there before Malfoy woke up and the situation developed to its full cataclysmic potential. Yet she found herself strangely immobile. She wasn't particularly in the habit of measuring penis size with her face but, inexperienced as she was, she was still pretty certain that Malfoy packed a fair punch in the trouser department. She ought to have been horrified and disgusted but instead, she was intrigued. What she wanted, more than anything was to run her fingers over the hot bulge which was currently digging into her cheek. Or to unbutton his fly and wrap her lips around…Hermione Granger, you did not just think that. What on earth had come over her? In her previous relationships, she had, at best, been an unwilling dispenser of fellatio. Now she was practically drooling over Malfoy's cock. She just couldn't help but think that somebody who smelled so good surely must taste even better. Would it really be so wrong just to undo a couple of buttons…..? He twitched again, gave a soft groan and thrust his hips against her face, his hand tightening momentarily against the smooth skin of her ribcage. Hermione's lascivious thoughts were momentarily side-tracked. At what point had his hand insinuated its way under her blouse? Well, it didn't really matter. What mattered was getting out of Malfoy Manor as quickly and quietly as possible before Lucius Malfoy woke up and realised he had spent the night entwined around a Muggle-born, or she did something with his sleeping body that would undoubtedly have him calling the Aurors.
With more stealth than she would ever have thought herself capable of she rolled off of the sofa and onto the floor. Clutching her beaded bag against her chest she fled from the library as if the very hounds of hell were behind her.
Lucius fidgeted uncomfortably at his small table. He reminded himself that Malfoy's didn't fidget. Then he remembered that he currently inhabited the body of Camomile Jones and she was clearly a wriggler. He had some sympathy for her irritating tics. If he were in constant pain from as many different ailments as his female counterpart appeared to suffer he would probably not be able to maintain the legendary Malfoy poise either. He groaned and rubbed his back. Next time he was going to a specialist shop to get a proper bra fitted.
He had genuinely thought he had inhabited the hag's body for the last time. Things had been going so well with Miss Granger. Right up until the point where he had passed out on his couch like some sort of geriatric uncle who'd had one sherry too many after Sunday dinner. What must she have thought of him? Whatever it was, it had been bad enough to send her fleeing without as much as a 'thank you for the use of your wonderful library Mr Malfoy, and while we're at it would you like to ravish me?' When he had woken up on Sunday morning with a crick in his neck, a foul taste in his mouth and an erection which would have made the Eifel tower look shy, he had been ready to throw in the towel. He had given the girl his best shot and she had thwarted him at every turn. He had finally been willing to admit he'd met his match. Then he had remembered the way her fingers had lingered on his chest the evening before, the curve of her backside as she bent down to open the oven, the brush of her hand against his as they both reached for the teapot. And there was more; a half-remembered feeling of warmth as she pressed her soft body against his. The silky softness of her skin as he draped an arm across her abdomen, had he imagined it or had she really dozed off against him on the couch?
Whatever had happened, he was not quite ready to give in yet. He would give Camomile one more to chance to crack the enigma that was Hermione Granger and if she failed this time then he would move on to an easier conquest. At least his pursuit of the girl had caused him to acquire a number of new skills which any discerning woman would appreciate.
He didn't even try to hide his smile as the girl bounded into the café her eyes wide with youthful enthusiasm.
"Camomile, you're here, it's so good to see you."
He had braced himself for her greeting this time and took the opportunity to bestow an, albeit rather whiskery, kiss upon her cheek as she embraced him.
"I have something for you." She beamed across the table at him as she took her seat and proffered a large plastic box. Lucius took it rather dubiously.
"What is it?"
"Homemade chocolate brownies." She reached across and peeled back a corner of the lid, releasing the rich dark aroma of chocolate. "I thought you might need a little snack in the evenings along with your tea." She bit her lip and blushed. Lucius narrowed his eyes, wondering if she had seen his surreptitious bite of her sandwich and entirely misinterpreted his motives.
"Thank you, my dear, they smell delicious." He was telling the truth, he tucked the box away under his chair. "As a matter of fact, I have something for you too."
"You do?" Hermione had clutched her hands together in a gesture of childish anticipation but sadly Lucius' big reveal was impeded by the arrival of a waiter at their table.
"What would you like, Camomile? It's my treat." The girl looked expectantly across at him. Lucius stifled a sigh, she definitely thought him a charity case.
"Just tea will be fine thank you."
"Absolutely not." She spoke quietly to the waiter and pointed at one of the jars of tea above the counter, after a moment he nodded and left. Hermione turned back to Lucius who was gritting his teeth whilst trying to maintain a façade of old lady whimsy.
"As I was saying my dear, I have something for." He reached into his robes. "I came across this whilst clearing out my attic and thought it might be of use to you." He handed her an old and faded scroll. A scroll which had, in fact, cost him several hundred galleons and six months of scouring antiquarian bookshops in Albania, but that was beside the point. The look of absolute rapture as she studied the runes on the outside was worth every sickle.
"Oh Camomile, thank you." She came round the table to kiss his cheek once more. "I can't accept this, it's too much, really." Privately Lucius agreed, trinkets and fripperies were easily replaceable but primary sources were priceless in his book, on the other hand, if it helped him to achieve his goal it would be a loss worth taking.
Hermione had gently unfurled the parchment and was now frowning as she studied the runes. Lucius wiped what he knew to be a rather smug smile from his lips as she looked across at him.
"I can't read this." If he hadn't been planning this exact moment for the last 48 hours he might almost have felt sorry for her.
"What do you mean dearie?"
"The scroll, it looks like Trollish, but almost all the runes are unfamiliar…look." She gently pushed the parchment across the table to him.
Lucius didn't have to look, he knew exactly what those runes looked like, he'd spent weeks deciphering them. He furrowed his brow in feigned ignorance. "Oh I'm terribly sorry my dear, I only read the title you see. I'm afraid this is Old Trollish."
"Old Trollish?" Hermione had oscillated from disappointment to reverence. "I didn't know there were any Old Trollish texts remaining, Camomile this is probably worth a fortune."
"Oh, never you mind that dearie." Lucius gave an airy wave of his hand. "It's of no value gathering dust in my attic I want you to have it. I'm sure you'll be able to put it to good use."
"You're so kind." Hermione reached out to cover his hand with her own. "But I won't be able to put it to any use if you don't help me read it."
Lucius thoroughly enjoyed arranging his face into a façade of sorrow. "I'm terribly sorry my dear, but I don't read Old Trollish."
Once again they were interrupted by the waiter who placed a pot of tea and two cups down on the table along with two toasted sandwiches. Hermione pushed one of the plates across the table to Lucius and sadly rolled up the scroll before pouring their tea. Lucius reached for his cup and automatically took a sip, his attention too much on his companion and his excellent plan to notice what he was drinking. A bitter taste assailed his senses and he almost spat out the drink.
"What on earth is that?" He wheezed, wondering if she had discovered his perfidy and was trying to poison him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I should have warned you." Hermione took a delicate sip of the beverage. "It's Willow bark tea, rather an acquired taste I suppose, but terribly good for that time of the month." She placed a hand across her abdomen and gave him a knowing look. Lucius swallowed. Despite having been married for a good twenty years his knowledge of the female menstrual cycle didn't stretch far beyond being irritated when it interfered with his sex life.
"I see." He attempted to sound casually interested. "Well I'm afraid that ship has already sailed for me, I can't remember the last time Mother Nature came to call."
"Oh." The girl nodded knowingly and Lucius breathed an internal sigh of relief. He had no idea how old a witch had to be for her menses to stop but apparently, he had reached that age.
"Well, it is also good for arthritis and has numerous other health benefits." She topped up his cup, even though he had barely touched the drink. Suddenly he felt slightly less smug.
They ate in silence for a couple of minutes before Lucius decided to ramp up the tension a little further.
"My dear, I've just realised I have an acquaintance who might be able to help you with that scroll."
"You do?" She looked across at him, her eyes shining once more.
"Yes." He prepared to twist the knife. "Lucius Malfoy, do you know him?"
Hermione's mouth dropped open and she stared across the table at him her teacup frozen several inches from her lips.
"Mr Malfoy?"
He was slightly offended at her tone of incredulity.
"Yes, tall man, blonde hair, rather well known, surely you must have come across him before?"
"Yes, I know him." She returned her cup to its saucer with a clatter. "Well I thought I knew him, at least….I'm friends with his son."
"Well that's perfect then, you can ask him to translate the scroll. I don't know him well but I understand he's terribly obliging and very kind to small animals." Lucius clapped his hands together aiming for a look of beatific satisfaction.
"I'm not really sure it's that simple." Hermione toyed with the crust of her sandwich.
"Why ever not?" He flinched, was the old adage about eavesdroppers and never hearing anything good about to be proven?
"Well, you see." She stared into the middle distance, clearly seeking inspiration. Finally, she squared her jaw. "The thing is, Camomile, I didn't tell you this before, it just didn't occur to me you see, and I hope you won't hold it against me."
"Hold what against you?" Lucius was genuinely confused.
"I'm Muggle-born."
"Oh." He attempted to raise an eyebrow realised he couldn't do it and settled for an enquiring smile instead. "And what difference does that make?"
Hermione sighed. "Well, you see, people like Mr Malfoy, they don't really like people like me."
"Ah." Lucius sat back, wondering how to deal with this unexpected spanner in the works of his otherwise flawless plan.
"And do you like Mr Malfoy?" His heart pounded in his chest.
The girl bit her lip before giving a defiant nod. "Yes, I do. I like him a lot actually. But don't you see Camomile, that just makes things more awkward. I like him, he tolerates me, probably out of deference to Draco, I can't just ask him for a favour."
"Of course you can." Lucius gave her a wolfish smile. "You just have to offer something in return. You must have something he wants." He almost winced at his own bluntness, he had practically suggested that she sleep with him in exchange for his translating skills. He waited with baited breath for her response.
"Well, there is one thing." She fiddled with her uneaten sandwich once again.
"Yes."
"He's asked me before, to teach him to cook."
"Really?" Lucius strove for a surprised tone.
"Yes, I know, it seems strange. Apparently, he wants to use his newly acquired skills to seduce a woman." She rolled her eyes. "As if a man like that needs to do anything other than snap his fingers, he probably has woman coming out of his ears."
"You'd be surprised," Lucius muttered before he could stop himself, quickly covering his slip with a cough. "Well then," he continued quickly, "you have something he wants, no matter how odd it might seem, why don't you offer to cook him something else?"
She frowned. "Maybe, I did think it was a little odd that he didn't ask me for a desert recipe last time." She picked up her sandwich. "I'll think about it," she asserted before taking a determined bite.
That evening Lucius sat down at his desk with a cup of Darjeeling and one of the best chocolate brownies he had ever tasted. He took up his quill, feeling the overwhelming sense of satisfaction which can only accompany a well-executed plan.
My Dear Miss Granger,
It has come to my attention that my repertoire remains incomplete. I must implore you to furnish me with the means to produce a desert to rival the excellent main course we perfected together. I am willing to accord you the same terms as for our previous engagement, although I hope that next time you use my library you will at least do me the courtesy of wishing me farewell prior to your departure.
Kind Regards
Lucius Malfoy
Dear Mr Malfoy
I apologise for my hasty departure. I must confess I was a little embarrassed at having overstayed my welcome. I thought it best to leave without disturbing you.
Whilst I would be delighted to assist you further, I am not sure that any Pureblood witch worth her salt will allow herself to indulge in a desert.
Yours Hermione
Hermione,
You may be correct. I, however, am not a pureblood witch and I very much like to indulge. Chocolate fondant is my favourite.
Lucius
p.s. I was extremely disturbed by your absence when I awoke.
Lucius,
Please consider yourself lucky that I am also not a pureblood witch, I make a mean chocolate fondant. I am free next Saturday, same time and place?
Hermione
I look forward to it.
L.M.
A/N I solemnly swear that there will be actual, honest to goodness smut in the next chapter, not imaginary, not a dream but real tangible smut...
