He walked with slow strides, and she found it difficult to keep step. Part of her felt hurried to reach the safety of the castle as the cloak of the winter night began to shroud them. He seemed in no hurry, his expression thoughtful and placid.

"I suppose you shan't tell me what you were doing in the forest..."

Hermione wasn't sure if it was a question. She looked to the tall ice-blonde for confirmation. His eyes locked on hers, head tilted in expectance.

"With Professor Umbridge patrolling the corridors up there," at this she yanked her neck a little at the illuminated castle before them. "It's nice to know there's somewhere she's not watching."

Lucius smiled. "So true. I was seeking a little peace and quiet myself." He looked down at his footing at this and Hermione, from the corner of her eye, decided it might be safe to take a look at him again. "It's beastly trying to read with all those ghosts about."

Hermione unleashed a groan of agreement instinctively. She knew only too well the unwelcome fury of a translucent entity popping up in the middle of Advanced Runes just when you were getting somewhere. "Not to mention the students."

He laughed. "Indeed. Fortunately I've managed to minimise that area of annoyance. I've switched quarters to the unused rooms at the back of the greenhouses, much more peaceful."

A strange connection seemed to be forming. Hermione was certain he was trying to make it stick. In some ways, she knew that her reply could cement it into place if she let it.

"Umbridge's watch don't seem to settle there much," he continued. "If you're interested in that sort of information."

This was most certainly not a moment to look at Lucius Malfoy. To look, to acknowledge, to reply in any positive respect would be asking for trouble. Hermione turned her head slowly to the hint of promise in his curved smile.

"Usef-ful to k-know," she stammered suddenly, against all judgement.

Immediately ashamed, she looked away and stepped up her pace. The glowing steps of the castle doors were seconds away.

A kind of panic flew through Lucius's mind. There was a flicker of a chance, in this last moment before the halls of Hogwarts swallowed them again, before she threw up the barricades of classroom etiquette and pretended he was just another member of the faculty.

Almost without thinking, he reached for her arm. Her wrist caught gently, the girl turned, sharp to his move. Eyes wide and chest heaving, she looked down at his gloved hand.

Everything hung on the next motion, and he knew it. The whole scheme was either about to catch fire, or go up in smoke. It was this kind of moment that the Dark Lord had once singled Lucius Malfoy out for. If you wanted someone to turn a blade to a rose with a whisper, he was the undoubted master of the task. The irony of putting his old skills to use wasn't lost on the man who, twenty years later, stood on the steps of his old school, holding a fragile moment in those same, dark hands.

His pitch reduced to a whisper as a tender finger slid slowly along Hermione's pulsing wrist.

"You're not what I expected, Miss Granger."

She met his eyes, confused.

"I like you a lot more than I ought to."

Slowly, deftly, he let her go, pacing on up the stairs. He reached the double oak doors, pushing one slowly open, peering inside. No one. He smiled to himself for a moment before reducing the expression. He turned to see her frozen, watching him from the first step. Something clicked inside his silvery mind. He had her.

Lucius Malfoy smiled the warmest smile.

"Come inside. You'll be cold standing there."

She did.