A/N As always thank you so much for all your lovely review, follows and favourites. To the lovely guest (I think it must be the same person) who has left me a few really nice reviews - thank you and I'm sorry I can't answer but your words make me smile!
Not since the day of his wedding had Lucius taken such care over his morning toilette. Always fastidious in his personal grooming; that Saturday he took things to a new level. He wasn't nervous exactly. Hermione's declaration that she liked him rather a lot had done a great deal to calm the nerves which seemed to overwhelm him whenever he was in her presence. For the first time since he had encountered her in his kitchen, he felt as if he might actually be in control of the situation. She was like a ripe fruit, ready to be plucked and he was adamant that, if any plucking were to be done, he would be the main executor.
He just had to look perfect.
If his tailor had been surprised at Lucius' peremptory demand for a Muggle suit he had known better than to show it. Instead, he had rapidly got to work and, days later, delivered the outfit Lucius was apprehensively donning. There was something deeply offensive at being disillusioned by the woman one was trying to impress. He absolutely refused to allow her to hide him again, and if that meant he had to blend in with the Muggles, then so be it. After turning himself into two different women in his pursuit of the girl, trousers and a jacket didn't seem like too much of an imposition.
In fact, he thought, contorting himself into various poses in order to view his new apparel from all angles, his Muggle suit was rather becoming. The trousers were not so different from those he normally wore under his robes and the white shirt was cut in his usual style. He had left off the waistcoat in deference to the baking heat of the day. Whilst the cooling charms which permeated the fabric would keep him from overheating, he supposed that few Muggle men would be out in and about in a three-piece suit, and his goal was to blend in. The jacket was a symphony of tasteful design, beautifully cut in a dark grey pinstripe it brought out the lighter colour of his eyes and highlighted his, still impressively flat, stomach. Lucius Malfoy was not a man who would allow himself to go to seed.
The grey silk necktie had caused him some consternation, but the unfamiliar item had come with an incantation which animated the garment to tie itself, and he now sported a neat Windsor knot. It was undoubtedly the most infuriating piece of clothing he had ever encountered. It was much more constraining than a cravat, and the urge to tug at the knot was overwhelming despite his repeated repetition of the mantra Malfoys do not fidget. He reminded himself, for the hundredth time, that all of his efforts would eventually be worthwhile.
His face and hair were flawless as ever. Lucius knew himself to be vain, but he was also aware that, in his case, vanity was perfectly justified. Draco was the only wizard who could possibly hold a candle to him in terms of looks and, much to his relief, his son's attention was not focussed on Miss Granger.
He had planned to reach the underpass early, as he had done before, in order to watch Hermione arriving. But, this time, she had played him at his own game and was also at the appointed meeting place well ahead of time.
Lucius was instantly aware of his advantage. Any nerves he might have harboured following their night spent together in his library had dissipated during their companionable lunch date on Tuesday; for him at least. Hermione, of course, unaware that they had already seen each other, was clearly still on edge. Her face colouring as soon as she caught sight of him.
"Miss Granger." He lifted her hand smoothly to his lips and pressed them against her skin. She smelled like apples and her fingers actually trembled in his.
"Mr Malfoy," the tremor was reflected in her voice. "I'm sorry for my abrupt exit last weekend." So much heat was emanating from her face, he was glad of his cooling charms. "I was embarrassed and I acted rudely because of it, I hope you'll forgive me."
"Think nothing of it, my dear." He could afford to be magnanimous; after all, she liked him very much. "I have already forgotten the entire incident." He held his arm out in her direction and, after a moment's hesitation she slipped her fingers around his forearm. Her touch burned almost like a summons from the Dark Lord and he schooled himself to maintain his façade of unaffected calm.
"You look very smart, Mr Malfoy." She eyed him sideways as they made their way, arm, in arm, back towards the supermarket.
"I hoped to avoid being disillusioned today." Lucius drew a pound coin from his suit pocket and inserted it into the slot on the handle of the nearest trolley. The chain slipped free and he suavely maneuverered the vehicle toward the shop front. He caught a flicker of admiration in her eyes.
"It would be a shame to disillusion such a lovely suit." The dimple appeared in her cheek once more. "Did you purchase it specially?"
"Of course not," he scoffed. "It makes sense to be able to walk undetected amongst Muggles from time to time."
"I suppose." She followed him into the shop. "Although if you want to be truly incognito then I think you might do better with a pair of shorts and a polo shirt."
Lucius winced at the thought of ever leaving the house in anything so ghastly. He might admire Hermione's Muggle clothing, and the short grey skirt and white blouse she wore today were another example of her excellent taste, but in general, he still abhorred the way Muggles dressed. Did none of them take any pride in their appearance?
To his surprise, and slight disappointment, Hermione whisked him through the shop with an air of brisk efficiency. They didn't even pause in the fruit aisle.
"Did you remember to eat your lunch today?" He asked rather plaintively. The sight of her small pink tongue lapping the peach juice from her wrist had fuelled his nocturnal entertainment for several nights in a row. The mere memory of it was causing him to grow rather hot and bothered and it was a relief when they paused next to a refrigerated unit to collect double cream and butter.
Relatively few other ingredients found their way into the trolley; which Lucius handled masterfully, and before he knew it, Hermione was leading them once more to the checkouts.
"Erm," he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Don't you need any wine?"
"No." She shook her head, a slight smile on her lips. "Don't worry, I wasn't planning on inflicting the wine section on you again."
"Well, it wouldn't hurt just to look." Lucius studiously avoided looking at her, but he was aware of her glancing sideways at him as she obligingly lead them back towards the alcohol section.
The Argentinian red which had haunted his dreams almost as effectively as Miss Granger herself, plus several bottles of very reasonably priced vintage Bordeaux, a dessert wine and a rather intriguing port made their way into the trolley. Hermione looked on, bemused.
"Are you planning a party?" she finally asked as he deliberated over the Malt Whisky.
"Of course not, I abhor parties." He held a bottle of Glenmorangie up to the light to admire its colour.
"I thought you loved them."
"What?" Should he buy the sherry cask or the oak cask?
"Parties," she sounded exasperated and he turned to face her, a bottle in each hand, trying to fathom what on earth she was talking about.
"I thought you loved parties," she repeated, frowning at him.
"Why would you think that?" He placed both bottles in the trolley, she might not bring him here again and he wasn't sure he could face the place on his own.
"Because your wife is always throwing them!"
"Ex-wife." He waited for the familiar weight of failure to settle over his shoulders at the thought of Narcissa, but for once, he remained unburdened. Perhaps it was because he would never again have to attend one of her interminable charity events.
"Don't tell me; she's your ex-wife because she threw too many parties and you couldn't stand it anymore?"
"Amongst other reasons." Lucius gripped the handle of the trolley and headed for the checkout with the girl trailing behind. He found her interest in his marriage rather gratifying; further evidence of her attraction to him, surely.
The girl sighed loudly behind him. "So if you're not throwing a party you must be an alcoholic."
"I don't think so," Lucius responded mildly. Perhaps he had sailed a little close to the wind in terms of his indulgence during the final year of the war, but he had nipped that little habit in the bud as soon as it had started to affect his waistline. The only liquid he had a problem with now was tea, was it possible to overindulge in Earl Grey? He hoped not.
"Then what are you going to do with all that booze?" The girl could really become rather shrill when her insatiable curiosity was not instantly gratified.
Lucius stopped walking and she ran into his backing with a soft "Ooft."
They were briefly tangled together against the shopping trolley, a sudden surge of shoppers in the narrow aisle preventing them from immediately separating.
"I like to collect things." He had somehow managed to insinuate an arm around her narrow waist and her ludicrous hair appeared to be wrapping itself around him like the fronds of a Venomous Tentacula. "Books, artefacts, art, wines; anything I find beautiful I long to possess."
She gazed up at him, both of them frozen in the moment as the other shoppers moved around them. Her brown eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted and, in that moment, even without her previous admission, her feelings were clear. She likes me very much, he thought, as he gently released her and resumed his journey to the checkout.
They made their way back to the apparition point in silence. Lucius had bought a cardboard wine carrier at the checkout, along with a sturdy bag with a fabric handle. As a result of these astute purchases, he was able to convey all their goods with ease, and Hermione had once more slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. They paused for only a moment before she tightened her grip and he apparated them both into the kitchen at Malfoy Manor.
Lucius wondered if she was aware of how much flesh she was revealing as she rummaged in one of the lower kitchen cupboards. At first, he had averted his eyes in a gentlemanly fashion. It was, after all, not good form to peek at the underwear of a female houseguest. He had rapidly decided that it was only bad form if one were caught looking, and had begun to crane his neck in order to improve his view of her delicate cheeks.
After his horrific experience in the apothecary, he had steeled himself for ugly knickers. He had accepted that there would be a period of time after they became intimate, but during which their relationship would be too new for him to take over the management of her underwear drawer, where he would have to endure her abominable taste in undergarments. He had girded his loins for vast swathes of white cotton and perhaps even, he repressed a shudder, fraying elastic. Lucius had never been one for praying but if there was a deity in heaven it appeared to be looking down on him. Because emerging from beneath the hem of Hermione Granger's too short skirt, were the most beautifully rounded buttocks he could ever have imagined, and, bisecting those smooth, round, perfect orbs, was a sliver of tasteful black lace. Lucius had never considered himself weak, but if he were to admit to an Achilles heel, he would have to say that it came in the shape of a well-fitted boy-short adhered to the backside of a beautiful woman. He swallowed heavily and forced himself to look away, grateful for the apron which concealed the tenting of his Muggle trousers.
Hermione emerged pink cheeked (her face this time) and victorious with six silver moulds clutched against her chest. She set them out on the counter and instructed Lucius to brush them with melted butter.
"Normally we would put them in the fridge and wait for them to cool," she explained. Her face broke into a smile. "But we have magic!" She flourished her wand and applied a quick cooling charm before instructing Lucius to paint a further layer over the already chilled one. Her smile was infectious and he couldn't help but steal glances at her as she set out the other ingredients. Her movements were quick, deft and precise. He was struck by an urge to watch her preparing potions ingredients; he could see why Severus valued her so highly.
"So how are things going with the mystery woman," her voice was casual as they broke the chocolate into a bowl, but Lucius detected the undercurrent of tension. He gave a casual shrug.
"Slowly," he admitted. "I believe she is intimidated by me."
Hermione didn't speak for a moment and he focused on breaking off the last few chunks and clearing aside the discarded wrappers.
"You can be rather overwhelming at first." She looked shyly at him before turning away to send a stream of boiling water into a pot on the stove. "But I'm sure once she gets to know you she will find that you are not so frightening after all. Put the bowl with the chocolate in it over the water and turn the temperature right down, we want the chocolate to melt without seizing." Lucius followed her instructions and stood over the bowl diligently stirring the slowly melting chocolate. The smell combined with her presence was intoxicating. He imagined spreading the warm viscous material over the curves of her backside. She would squeal at the heat and he would soothe her with his tongue. Merlin, he had to stop this. The apron provided something of a barrier but it was not an impenetrable shield. Besides his penis was rubbing painfully against the fly of his trousers, if he didn't tone things down his most precious organ would perish from diminished blood supply long before it got anywhere near Hermione.
She still hadn't mentioned the scroll. No doubt she had it, secreted away, in that unattractive bag she insisted on carrying around. He wondered when she would introduce it into the conversation and how he could turn that to his advantage. He could understand her reticence. Sexual awareness shimmered in the air between them and he felt in no way inclined to discuss academia at present. He could only assume that she felt the same way.
"I think it's melted." He ran the wooden spoon through the silky smooth liquid. Hermione peeked over his shoulder.
"Yes, that's perfect, put it to one side please." Her voice was strict and peremptory but he could still feel the rising awareness between them, like a pressure cooker coming to a head.
"Next we beat the sugar and butter." She watched as he measured the items into a bowl. He expected her to cast some sort of charm but instead, she handed him what looked like an oval metal cage on the end of a stick.
"What is this?"
"It's a whisk."
He held it up between them. "What am I supposed to do with it?"
She took it from him with a brief eye roll and demonstrated the action, her arm moving vigorously back and forth across the bowl. Lucius raised an eyebrow.
"Surely there is a charm that will do this for us." He replicated her action, beginning to tire almost as soon as he began.
"There is." Again the smile ghosted across her face. "But we get better results doing it by hand. Come on Malfoy, put your back into it, just imagine how worthwhile this will all be when she's moaning in ecstasy."
The whisk clattered against the side of the bowl as he stared at her in surprise, she was not usually nearly so forward.
"I meant when she tasted the pudding." She pressed her hands against her flaming cheeks and abruptly turned her back pretending to fiddle with the ingredients on the table behind them.
"Of course." Lucius returned to his whisking, hoping to goodness he was going to get into her knickers because he would certainly be in no state to take care of himself after this marathon.
Finally, the concoction of sugar and butter reached some point, discernible only to Hermione, at which she deemed it required no further whisking. Lucius beat in the eggs, then the flour. Hermione carried across the bowl of chocolate.
"Now we add this." She placed the bowl on the worktop. "But we need to make sure that the chocolate isn't too hot, or it will scramble the eggs." She dipped her finger into the mixture. Lucius stared at her. There was a smear of chocolate on her lower lip where she had licked her finger clean. Every instinct he possessed told him to lean forwards and lick it away. The air crackled between them, ripe with anticipation. For the hundredth time that afternoon, he resisted. He knew the girl by now, they were in the middle of a process; even if she succumbed to him, she would be distracted by the half-finished chocolate fondants – he had to be patient for just a short while longer.
Instead of kissing her he reached out and swiped his thumb across the soft flesh, removing the chocolate. He brought it to his own mouth, holding her eyes as he licked himself clean. She gazed up at him, as if mesmerised, her lips slightly parted. Lucius broke the heated moment by picking up the bowl and pouring the warm chocolate into the mixture.
"Now you stir it in gently, using a figure of eight motion," her voice was ragged and he smiled to himself as he began to stir.
"No, not like that."
He barely registered her exasperated tone. She had come up behind him and placed one hand on the small of his back, the other came around to cover his on the spoon. The warmth and scent of her seemed to engulf him, but it was more than that. She was touching him. She was touching him the way she had touched Draco, with a casual familiarity that spoke volumes. She had become so comfortable in his company that she had voluntarily moved into his personal space and laid her hands upon his body. He felt strangely giddy as she guided his hand in a figure of eight motion, not with sexual desire, although that was there too, shimmering beneath the surface, but with pure iridescent happiness.
She stepped away and he gradually came back down to earth. What was this witch doing to him, he wondered. When had the opinion of anyone, let alone a Muggle born witch half his age, come to matter to him so much. He finished his folding and, under Hermione's instruction, poured the mixture into the prepared moulds. Hermione smiled up at him once more, oh how he loved to make her smile.
"And that's them done really." She applied another cooling charm. "You can prepare them in advance and keep them cool under a stasis charm until you're ready to put them in the oven. The real skill is in the baking."
"I see." Lucius feigned concern, whilst acknowledging internally that this would be the first and last time he ever made a chocolate fondant if the aching in his arm was anything to go by.
"Don't worry." Her small hand came to rest on his forearm, she appeared oblivious to the dark mark which writhed beneath her fingers. "It's actually very simple and all about the timing. Put them in the oven and you'll see."
Reluctantly, he turned to pick up the moulds, her hand naturally falling away, leaving him bereft. He placed the tray in the oven, turning quickly to see if he could catch her observing him as he had oogled her the week before. If she had been looking at his arse she had done it subtly enough that he didn't catch her in the act. She cast a modified Tempus charm and together they stared at the luminous numbers which hung in the air above the oven.
"Would you like a drink?" Lucius' mouth was curiously dry.
"Yes please." She answered almost before he had finished speaking.
He gestured for her to take a seat and found two glasses in the cabinet in the corner. The girl raised an eyebrow when he placed the bottle of Muggle dessert wine on the table.
"Gloating is a singularly unattractive pastime, Miss Granger."
She seemed undaunted by his condemnatory tone. "I do apologise, Mr Malfoy, but you have to admit, it is a little amusing. What did you call Muggle wine last time we were together…..disgusting swill?"
He poured them both a generous measure of the yellow liquid. "Yes, well, perhaps my tastes have changed." He held her eyes as he raised his glass to his lips. "To all things Muggle."
"To all things Muggle," she repeated softly, lifting her own glass. "Merlin that's sweet!" She gave a slight cough as she set the glass down. Lucius smiled.
"It will taste better when offset by the sweetness of the dessert." He glanced around at the hovering countdown. Only three minutes remained. Without being instructed he set out two plates with a small ramekin of whipped cream on the side. Hermione looked on approvingly.
"Mr Malfoy, I do believe we shall make a chef of you yet."
Her wand let out a soft peal and they both jumped a little and laughed. Lucius opened the oven door and removed the tray of deserts. Instantly the rich scent of chocolate intensified in the air around them, he was aware of Hermione, behind him, inhaling deeply.
Remembering her earlier instructions he placed a stasis charm over four of the desserts and, only cursing once as he burned himself, he gently upended the first mould over Hermione's plate. He held his breath as the pudding slipped out, and gave a satisfied sigh as it sat, intact, on the plate. The second followed suit and he sprinkled coco powder over the two plates before he carried them back to the table and presented them to Hermione with a flourish.
She beamed up at him. "These look wonderful." Despite her protestations over its sweetness he noticed that her wine was almost finished, her cheeks flushed, from the heat or the alcohol he wasn't certain. He topped up her glass before he sat down then held her eyes, his spoon poised above the gently steaming dome of chocolate sponge.
"Are you ready?"
She lifted her own spoon. "Ready."
Together they plunged their spoons down into the dessert, both emitting identical sighs of pleasure when the sponge split open to reveal a slow flowing river of molten chocolate. Lucius savoured the rich flavour on the back of his palate. The pudding was not only delicious but perfectly executed too. The girl really was skilled in the kitchen. He sipped his wine and watched through his lashes as her small pink tongue licked the sticky chocolate from the spoon. He could imagine all too clearly that soft tongue swirling around the head of his cock, and this time he did nothing to dispel his fantasies or his arousal. It was time to close the deal.
"Thank you, Miss Granger, you have outdone yourself." He placed his spoon down on the empty plate and topped up her wine glass again. She didn't complain and mirrored his action, although not before sweeping her finger across the chocolate on her plate and placing it between her lips. It was an artless gesture, but not one that was lost on Lucius, he parted his legs slightly under the table, allowing his burgeoning erection room to grow.
"So what happens next?"
He was surprised when the girl broke the comfortable silence between them. She toyed with the stem of her wine glass, her eyes, as dark as the chocolate they had just eaten, fixed on his face.
"What do you want to happen next?"
Her response surprised him. "I don't know, Mr Malfoy, it's your seduction. Do you need me for anything else?"
With a start, he realised they were rather at cross purposes. She was still focussed on his fictional seduction of an imaginary woman. Still, he took her interest as a positive sign.
"I'm sure I could make use of you." He allowed the double entendre to sit in the space between them. He had never met anyone who seemed so impervious to innuendo. If he hadn't heard her admit to liking him with his own ears he might actually think her disinterested. "Tell me, Miss Granger," – he took a sip of his wine and kept his eyes fixed on hers – "why are you so interested in my love life? Surely you must have a beau of your own to keep you out of trouble."
She stiffened slightly and drained her glass, he upended the bottle into it.
"I'm not seeing anybody at the moment," her voice was soft and, he fancied, filled with regret.
"Really? And what happened to you and Mr Weasley, loves' young dream?"
She sighed. "It was just that, a dream." He didn't interrupt and she appeared to interpret his silence as permission to keep speaking. "He fell in love with someone else. Don't you condemn him too." She held up a hand as if to stop him from speaking. "He didn't do anything wrong. He was perfectly honest with me and ended things before anything happened with the other woman." She sighed again. "She's a Quidditch player too. She has very muscular thighs according to The Prophet." She glanced down at her own legs, as if disappointed their slenderness. Lucius hoped she didn't investigate things beneath the table too thoroughly, just across from her, his erection was showing no signs of subsiding.
"He's an idiot," Lucius responded, unconsciously echoing the words of his son and privately thinking that Weasley's love didn't count for much if his behaviour the other night in the club had been anything to go by. "You must miss him though." He was surprised, and impressed, at how sympathetic he sounded.
Hermione gave a wan smile. "I miss having someone around I suppose, it gets lonely cooped up in my flat all day with only Crookshanks for company. Crookshanks is my cat," she clarified seeing the confusion in his eyes. "But sometimes I feel grateful for the peace, I can get so much more done without Ron under my feet." She looked almost guilty at the admission.
"But what about the physical side of things, you must miss that surely?" Lucius felt like a hunter circling his prey.
Her cheeks pinked a little more and her tongue nervously darted out to wet her lips. "Oh I don't really miss it that much." She fiddled with her hair which was haphazardly secured on top of her head. "I don't think I'm a particularly sexual person really." She said the last part almost defiantly and looked angry when Lucius let out a snort of laughter.
"That, my dear, simply means that you have yet to experience the true pleasures of the flesh."
"On the contrary," she stared him down. "I have experienced plenty of pleasure, Mr Malfoy. It is simply the case that my mind is on a higher plane."
"Really?" Lucius rose smoothly from his chair and circled the table to loom over her. She looked up at him, fearfully. "You've experienced pleasure with Weasley have you?"
"Of course." She seemed determined not to be intimidated by him despite the fact that he now towered over her.
"And how would you respond if I told you Weasley was an idiot, no more able to pleasure a woman than he is able to make the first team?" He kept his voice smooth, watching the agitated rise and fall of her breasts beneath her thin blouse.
"Then I'd say you have absolutely no idea what you're talking about and are a conceited, pompous, arrogant prig to boot!"
He didn't even flinch at her words. They were the final death throes of a wounded animal, about to succumb to the inevitable.
"Strong words Miss Granger." He ran the tips of his fingers along the line of her jaw and watched with satisfaction as she trembled slightly at his touch. "But I don't think you have any idea what you're talking about." He removed his hand. "I'm willing to bet I could give you more pleasure right now, with one hand tied behind my back than Weasley did in all the years you were together."
"Really?" She scoffed. "Your arrogance is astounding. What exactly would you be willing to wager on such a thing?"
Lucius smiled as he prepared to close the net. "A month's unrestricted access to my library, perhaps." He said the words airily as if he cared little if she even heard his response. Her sharp intake of breath indicated she had.
"Let me get this quite clear, Mr Malfoy." She sounded as if she were in the courtroom. "You are wagering that you, with one hand tied behind your back, would use the other to, ahem" – she paused and reddened slightly – "stimulate me. And, should I not experience greater pleasure than I ever have before, at your, no doubt masterful, touch, then you will give me unrestricted access to your library for the next month. Am I correct?"
He hesitated. He had spoken in haste; he hadn't intended to make such a crass gesture as a bet. He had planned to woo her to his bed, not finger her in his kitchen. Yet he was not a man who willingly ignored an opportunity and this one was surely too good to pass up on. He ignored the mocking tone in her voice. "You are quite correct, Miss Granger, do you accept the wager?"
A/N I know, I know, I promised smut and no smut has been forthcoming, what can I say? I'm verbose. Don't be angry. I had to split the chapter because it was getting insanely long. I'm going to upload the next one right now...honest. I will be up in the time it takes you to write an angry review...