Longing

Hermione got up from where she was kneeling, as she stood her eyes kept probing his, the flash of complete vulnerability and need was gone. Lucius' eyes were ablaze with a fire Hermione never thought possible in a man of his standing and aloofness. She was mesmerized with the beauty of him. She stood up to her full height gave him one last glance before turning around, summoning her clothes and leaving the bathroom.

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Lucius stood in the bathroom staring at the closed door. He longed for her, more than he thought possible. He wanted her passion and fire with him all the time. Had he, the great Lucius Malfoy fallen for the mudblood? He thought bitterly, of course I haven't, it's just the afterglow. After all he's just gotten great head. As Lucius convinced himself of this, he summoned his clothes, glanced around and sniffed the air with his head held high. He was trying to deny the one good thing in his present life and situation. Lucius dressed quickly and took 3 long strides to the door, walked into the hallway and headed back to the dining room. He was not letting good food go to waste.

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As Hermione paced her study she thought of ways to avoid seeing him for a few days. It was her job to watch him; she didn't want to let the minister down but thought she may have to. With a last turn, she walked to the hallway and headed down to the dining room, she wasn't going to let good food go to waste. As she took her place at the table Lucius didn't look at her, nor did he say a word. He called in the Elves to serve dinner and pour wine. Hermione Enjoyed the food and wine very much, she had eaten like a queen. After the dessert, which was a very light and very fulfilling treacle sponge, Hermione excused herself and left muttering only a small goodnight to Lucius and brushing his gloved hand.

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As the night closed in, Lucius left the manor and headed to Hogsmeade. He was in need of a very large drink and something to take his mind off of her. As he approached the back entrance to Rosmerta's, he allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. He was going to drink until the small hours and then visit an old friend at the inn. He opened the door and was greeted by the sounds and smells of people having a good time. As he walked through the lounge bar he caught Rosmerta's eye. She walked over to him, took his cloak and his cane, poured him a drink and sat herself beside him, waiting for the right moment. Lucius looked round at her, he knew how much she wanted him but he had never gone there again, and didn't intend to. The woman was the easier than first year herbology. He knew exactly where he was headed after the bar had closed.

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Hermione sat at the fire in her study with a small Baileys; it was one of her few little luxuries and it was a muggle drink she favoured over any other drink. As she sat in her nightdress she felt a tingling on the back of her neck, someone was watching her. She cast the revealing spell wordlessly and was surprised to hear a clattering behind her, next to her desk. As she turned she was even more surprised to see the familiar face of Draco Malfoy. She looked up at him and said coolly, "Is there a reason you were lurking behind those shelves? What brings you back here?"

"I heard you were staying here and wanted to see you, not in that way, I just... You know, I wanted... Oh screw it, thank you" With that he turned on the spot and disapperated from the study without a sound.

Hermione shrugged to herself, summoned her favourite book and snuggled under her crocheted blanket she brought from home and began to read.

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As he approached the inn, he heard a faint pop behind him. He assumed someone was just apparating into the village for a drink or a whore. He walked up the side alley leading to the main entrance, fighting with his wand and the clasp on his cloak. The light outside the inn went out and he heard a rasping breath behind him. He was about to turn to see the fellow who was struggling to breathe when everything went black.

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Hermione woke up with a crick in her neck and the sun peeking through the thick curtains. She shook her head and headed for the door. It was just after eight o'clock in the morning. She made her way to her rooms to shower when an owl swooped into the hallway, making her jump. As she untied the letter she looked at the writing, it wasn't familiar. She opened the letter and scanned it. She stopped dead in the hallway, looked at the owl, looked at the letter again and then everything became crystal clear. She did recognise the writing, she did recognise the owl. It was then that she realised Lucius hadn't come back to the manor last night.

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As Lucius awoke with the sun peaking through a gap in dark, heavy curtains familiarity came crashing into him like a wave at high tide. As he took stock of himself he noticed his wand was missing. Barely a second later, the atmosphere crushed his very bones. This was a place of dark magic. He recognised the heady aromas of blood and power. They were intoxicating and familiar yet disgusting. As he looked around again the familiarity of this place struck him again, he knew this house, he knew its master. The light was scarce, he felt around himself and noted a deep shag carpet beneath him, silver shackles on his wrists and ankles, and he could just make out the shapes of bookshelves and a desk. It was a study he knew very well; the study of Severus Snape.

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She did not let panic rule her; she used it as a weapon. As she centred herself she summoned her wand. The magic she was about to use called for a non-human channel, if a human channelled it, they'd be dead. A locator spell she didn't know found it's way to her lips; she screamed the harsh words and her hand and wrist moved as if detached, this deep knowledge was ancient and pure. Then she saw him, clear as day, shackled and wandless upon an old, earthy carpet. He looked relaxed but she sensed his fear, just as he sensed her spell. A map was drawn in her head; she knew where she was going. A familiarity of the name and location instilled a deep sense of fear and comfort inside her.

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Lucius felt weak and heavy from the oppressiveness of the room he was in. As he sat head lolling and eyes heavy he asked himself, am I a wizard or not? I've played with much darker magic than this! He felt himself strengthening; he centred himself and pulled all the power he had into an incantation to keep his body shielded from the atmosphere. Immediately he was lighter and had a clearer head. Just as he started to gather himself, fire licked the edges of his robes. Consciousness and a sense of self are the weapons here, use them to your advantage, he thought to himself. The flames blazed green and had heated. The more he thought, the more he was likely to die.