Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and/or the characters created by J.K. Rowling.

Chapter Ten

The forty minute journey to Penrith station was slow and seemingly interminable to Hermione. It was filled with many intrusive questions from the elderly couple and Hermione found herself with the burden of manufacturing false answers. She'd never been a very good liar but she was surprised with how convincing her tall tales were concerning her faux marriage to Lucius Malfoy and her phony pregnancy.

George and Carol Sweeney, the elderly folks aforementioned, were not Britain natives. They were Irish and had come to Britain, on their way to Lockerbie to visit their only son and his family. Carol had been quick to mention that her daughter-in-law, Angela Sweeney, was pregnant as well with her third child who was going to be named Tommy if it were a boy. Hermione tried her best to feign interest in the older woman's ramblings but silently prayed that their journey with the Sweeneys would end soon enough.

Eventually, Carol had fallen silent and Hermione was left to enjoy the crawl at which George was driving. Darkness had begun to set in and frost from the cold clouded the windows, preventing Hermione from observing her surroundings. She glanced briefly at Lucius and found him staring unseeingly into his own reflection created by the frost.

She desperately wanted to know why he'd told the Sweeneys to carry them to Penrith station instead of Keswick. She'd nearly asked him outright too but the look he'd given her had stilled her tongue. Besides, she'd wanted to show a united front to the Sweeneys. There was nothing more suspicious than stranded strangers each not knowing where they wanted to go. So she held her tongue; biding her time until they were deposited at their destination.

She glanced at Lucius again, trying to gauge how he felt presently. He'd shifted himself, leaning his head back with his eyes closed and Hermione vaguely wondered if he'd dozed off. A few strands of his hair lay haphazardly across his nose and lips and involuntarily, Hermione lifted her hand and smoothed it away. He opened his eyes half-mast, pinning her with his gaze and Hermione had a sense of déjà vu. She remembered the day they'd been forced to leave her hut and he'd been leaning his head against a tree and she'd been absorbed in admiring him that he'd caught her staring.

Whether in sickness or health, Lucius Malfoy still remains as handsome as ever, she thought.

He was still looking at her and suddenly shy, she blushed and began to remove her hand. He grabbed her wrist, staying it from moving further. Surprised, she returned her gaze to his, finding that he'd opened his eyes fully. She watched as he lifted her captured wrist to his lips and licked the spot where her pulse ticked. He followed this action by blowing softly where he'd licked her, and then he kissed her wrist.

It was Hermione's undoing. She could not resist the sudden desire that flooded her veins. She felt as though his mouth had not only made contact with her wrist but her entire body. A deep throb began to pulse low in her belly, the ache escalating when he licked and kissed her wrist once more, all the while gazing at her intently.

Her body began to yearn for him. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to cover the short space between them and claim his mouth with hers. She recalled the night he'd spanned her body with his hands and she wanted a repeat but more. She wanted his hands, she wanted his lips, and she wanted him…all of him, deep within her, bringing her to a point of ecstasy she'd yet to achieve.

Explicit images raced through Hermione's head and she began to inch closer. He tugged her forward by her wrist, his eyes set on her lips. Just as they were about to share a passionate kiss, the car jerked to a stop and Carol inclined her head towards them, smiling at them both as she said,

"Here we are, dears. Penrith station."

Blushing furiously, Hermione pulled away from Lucius' embrace and opened her side of the door. "Right. Thank you very much, Mr. and Mrs. Sweeney."

Carol's smile took on a mischievous look as Hermione and Lucius exited the vehicle. "Just to let you know, there's a small hotel a block away. Maybe you two should have a bit of a lie-in before you head off again."

Hermione blushed harder, if it were possible, "Maybe. Well, thanks again and take care!"

"Take care," hollered a waving Carol as George began to drive away. "Hope you have a healthy beautiful bouncing baby!"

Hermione waved back then, avoiding looking at Lucius, she turned towards the building before them. It was a large, sprawling, red-bricked building that bore resemblance to a church or an outdated police station. Windows ran along the entire elongated wall of the building, the edges rusty and panes dusty. Where there was paint, it had begun to fade and sections of the roof, gone black by the elements, were in need of repair. Parts of the walls had crude words spray-painted in garish colours on them and Hermione could even make out a smashed window or two.

The entire building had an air of abandonment and neglect and not because of its derelict exterior. Hermione found it suspicious that, for a train station, there was hardly a soul to be seen. A car park dotted with various types of vehicles stood before the building so why weren't there anyone milling about? She began to ponder the possibility that the Death Eater Plague had passed through the land of Penrith when her eyes alighted on a sheet of paper taped to the entrance doors. She began to walk forward when Lucius' voice stopped her.

"My dearest wife, it seems as though our fortune has only brought us this far."

She rounded on him, "I am not your wife."

"A divorce already?" he said in mock surprise. "Women these days are so fickle."

Hermione shook her head smilingly. Embarrassing as it was, in hindsight, their false marriage and playacting was funny. "I'm not fickle. I just refuse to stay in a fake and loveless marriage."

"Hmm?" he replied, then he pointed at the taped sheet of paper, "Well, Fate has entirely different ideas on this matter. We would have to continue our charade in the hopes of a favourable outcome at this hotel that bothersome woman suggested."

Hermione eased forward, her eyesight obviously not as sharp as Lucius', and read the note posted on the wooden front doors. It was typed and it read:

ATTENTION:

PENRITH STATION (PNR) WILL BE CLOSED ON SUNDAY 9TH JANUARY, 2000 AND MONDAY 10TH JANUARY, 2000 FOR BUILDING AND TRACK MAINTENANCE. WE WILL BE REOPENED AND IN SERVICE BY TUESDAY 11TH JANUARY, 2000. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE CAUSED.

There was a newspaper stand near the lone, red telephone booth that stood sentry left of the entrance doors. Hermione ran to it and grabbed up one of the remaining newspapers and was dismayed to read the date of the issue: Sunday 9th January, 2000.

Her prevailing thought was, Damn, I missed New Years Day…

Hadley's Hotel was on the corner of Cromwell Road and Ullswater Road and, indeed, a block away from Penrith station. It was a quaint, three-storey brick building with a warm, homey feel even from the entrance parlour. The foyer was painted in hues of mahogany; it was L-shaped, the shorter side of the L, forming a square. Within this square, a fireplace stood to the north of the wall, Christmas decorations still hanging above it. A few non-descript paintings hung on both eastern and western walls and potted plants graced each northern corner. There were three, mahogany-coloured leather sofas arranged around a glass coffee table, a few magazines on its surface, and a small library filled with books stood to the back of the eastern sofa. The entire foyer was carpeted in a rich, soft, auburn-coloured material and gold-coloured designs. Along the rectangular part of the foyer, Lucius and Hermione encountered a reception desk where a young woman was behind it, deep in the pages of a romance novel.

After a throat clearing did not work, Lucius rapped sharply on the wooden desk to garner the woman's attention. Her head whipped up in surprise, cheeks flushed and looking as though she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. He was slightly amused with this. There wasn't any wonder as to what particular scene of the book she'd been so engrossed in.

"We'd like a room, my wife and I," he said, smirking at Hermione's glare. "Are there any vacancies? And what is the cost?"

She eyed them both, ogling Hermione's round belly as she closed her book. "Let me have a look." She turned to some square, white monstrosity and settled her fingers on a board of sorts. She tapped at the upraised keys on the board that had different letters on each key, occasionally placing her hand on yet another oval-shaped extension attached by a cord, moving her hand up and down and around with it. The square, white box gave off a faint glow and he could see different moving images as the girl tapped away at the board of keys.

"It's a computer," said Hermione in a tone ripe with amusement.

He lifted an eyebrow haughtily, refusing to admit he hadn't an idea what a 'computer' was. His pride could not allow it.

"It's Muggle magic," she continued, smiling at him. "Made by Muggles, for Muggles."

He was saved from responding when the girl said, "You're lucky this evening. We've only got one vacancy. How long do you plan on staying?"

"Two nights."

"Then it's forty five pounds per night, sir," she said. "We accept only cash or credit cards. No cheque or debit, please."

This he understood. As a wealthy man, Lucius had known it to be foolish not to familiarize himself with Muggle money and their terminologies. Even though he'd abhorred their kind, money was money and the Muggles had plenty of it. He delved into his coat pocket and came up with the wrinkled bills he'd stolen from the thieves, all amounting to three hundred pounds.

He paid the woman the required amount and was offered a room key. Declining her suggestion to hang their cloaks in the cloakroom, they took the stairs located at the right hand side of the foyer to the second floor. Arriving at their specified room's door, Lucius unlocked it and they both entered the room.

The room was small and held very little furniture: A desk with an accompanying chair. An armchair in the corner near the curtained windows, a chest of drawers on which sat yet another square, boxy thing that was black instead of white, a bedside table and a bed. A lone, single, king-sized bed. A deep silence followed.

The girl was standing still, eyeing the solitary bed that occupied the room. He watched her watching the bed, wondering to himself whether the idea of sharing it with her was appealing or revolting. He could hardly dredge up negative feelings towards feeling her soft, womanly body against his and decided he found the idea alluring after all. Very much so indeed.

His mind carried him back to an hour earlier, when he'd been unable to resist touching her body at the roadside. He thought of the moment during the car ride when he'd enjoyed the simple act of kissing her wrist and the way her brown orbs had darkened with desire. Lucius fought hard against any thought, no matter how small, that suggested he was interested in Hermione Granger in more than a carnal, physical way. But he felt as though he was slowly losing the battle.

That very morning, he'd convinced himself it was purely sexual. He'd disregarded any notion that a worthwhile relationship could be pursued with a Muggle-born. Yet, during the drive, he'd closed his eyes momentarily and the first thought that had come to him was of her. It seemed all of his thoughts were filled with her these days. He could hardly remember the time he'd last thought of Draco, his one and only son.

Lucius was forced to admit to himself, the very same day he'd convinced himself otherwise, that maybe he did value Hermione Granger in his life a little more than just a sexual interest. He was, however, loathe to admit this and would murder anyone who found out this tidbit.

But where did this leave him? Would he grow to love her? This thought was so foreign that Lucius thought it best to leave it alone. He removed his cloak and hung it on the accommodating peg behind the door and moved to sit on the bed to take off his shoes. The girl awakened from her self-imposed trance and began to divest herself of her own clothing as well. At the last bit, her dress that covered the backpack, she glared at Lucius before marching off into the direction of the bathroom, locking the door for emphasis.

It became apparent that something was amiss when, after twenty minutes of secluding herself in the bathroom, he heard a shout of frustration. The bathroom door was suddenly flung open and out marched the girl, her face contorted in anger.

"Help me get this damn thing off!" she demanded.

Help a woman out of her clothes? No man could resist such a challenge and neither could Lucius. He was up on his feet and by her side in seconds, surveying not only the bunched material of the dress around the backpack and her midsection but her exposed top half, protected only by scraps of lace that constituted her bra.

However, it was not as easy as he'd imagined it to be. Upon grabbing the material of the dress and heaving upwards, he found that the cloth simply would not budge. He yanked downwards and met the same resistance. He tried to pull it away from her body but the dress had no elastic and only served to upset the pain in his shoulders.

Morosely, she said, "I guess I might just have to cut it."

But Lucius had seen a way and decided to employ it. "Release your arms from the straps, Miss Granger."

"Oh, it's Miss Granger now?" she replied.

"Do as I say," he commanded.

With a glare, she lifted her arms out of the straps of the backpack. "There."

"Hold still."

He grabbed the front of the bunched dress and pulled it as much as he could from her body then used his other hand to force the backpack downwards. Effortlessly, the backpack slid away from her body and as he released the dress, so did that too. She stood semi-naked in a lacy bra and matching knickers before him.

He drank in the sight of her, hardly able to tear his eyes away from her body. His eyes settled on her full, perky breasts that were barely concealed by the lace. They followed a path downward past the indentation of her waist and the widening of her hips to alight on the thin, sheer material that covered her sex. His hands itched to touch, to feel, to explore.

Instinctively, she covered herself with her hands, slowly backing away from him as if she could read his thoughts clearly. Lucius had a feeling she probably could as he'd yet to discourage her from the idea that he was sexually attracted to her.

"Come here," he said softly into the quiet.

"I will not," she replied just as softly.

"And why not?"

"I am afraid."

"Are you afraid of me?"

"No," she answered, even softer. "I am afraid of myself."

Their eyes met and Lucius could read her emotions plainly: hesitancy, regret, desire, affliction, guilt, want. He moved a step forward and unsurprisingly she moved a step back. Lucius was suddenly reminded that they played this game between themselves mentally and emotionally as well as physically. No matter their steps in a positive direction, they soon relapsed into their familiar ways of old prejudices.

"And why are you afraid of yourself?"

"Why aren't you afraid of yourself?" she cried. "Why aren't you afraid of this…this thing that's developed between us?"

"Why should I be afraid of attraction?" he replied. "It is a natural course in any human's life."

Aghast, she exclaimed, "Malfoy, we are enemies!"

He said nothing for a long while, he simply gazed at her. He was trying his best not to wonder at the sudden disappointment he felt at her words. He outright ignored the notion that his feelings was hurt. "Very well, Miss Granger. Although I no longer consider you my adversary and have attained a better judgment of you due to our close companionship, I realise that your assumptions of me may yet take time to change. If you tire of my advances, I will respect your wishes and desist from doing so hereafter should you still wish to accompany me on my journey.

In any case," he continued, "the day has taken its toll on my body and I long for some rest. I was aware of your discomfort earlier when you'd realised there was only one bed. Do you wish me to sleep on the floor?"

Mutely, she shook her head.

"I see," he nodded, turning away from her. "Well, do have a good night, Miss Granger."

After Lucius had retired to bed, Hermione had taken a shower then made her way downstairs to the library in the foyer. The clock on the wall near the empty receptionist desk said eight thirty and Hermione was surprised at how early it was still. She'd been overjoyed when she'd found 'Anna Karenina' by Leo Tolstoy, a book she'd longed to complete, and she'd delved into the book with gusto. However, fifteen minutes later, one thought began to overshadow the words on the pages: she'd hurt Lucius' feelings.

Could his feelings be hurt? His heart is made of stone for Merlin's sake! She scoffed.

But still, there was no denying the glimmer of disappointment she'd witnessed when she'd all but screamed that they were enemies. She'd felt even worse when he'd announced calmly that he did not feel that way about her as she obviously felt about him. She knew she didn't hate him and she knew she didn't consider him her enemy but she'd wanted an excuse to push him away.

Hermione was terrified of her burgeoning feelings for Lucius Malfoy. She despised the way he consumed her thoughts and she detested how quickly he could make her burn with desire for him with a simple look or touch. She was afraid of herself, of her longing to just let go and let the winds of attraction carry her wherever it wanted to.

However, pushing him away had felt worse. She couldn't believe she could come to a point to care how he felt but she had. She wanted to apologise but warred with herself. She tried her best to return her attention to her novel and after many futile attempts, she snapped it closed in frustration and marched back up to her room.

"Lucius?" she called quietly into the gloom. Feeling her way about the unfamiliar room, she manoeuvered her way to the bed. "Are you awake?"

"If I weren't," he said quietly, "I doubt I'd have been able to answer you."

Her eyes had adjusted and she could see him laying on his back, his good arm beneath his head as his eyes glittered in her direction. She smiled, wondering if he could see her too. She climbed onto the bed, kneeling where he lay and said shyly, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? You did not do or say anything wrong," he replied.

"I did say something wrong," she persisted. "I-I don't believe we're enemies. We've managed to spend four weeks in each other's company without one killing the other. That counts for something doesn't it?"

"Hmm, an apologetic Miss Granger. There are many wonders for me to see yet."

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," she laughed, playfully smacking him on his belly. She noticed his wince and mumbled another apology as she absentmindedly rubbed the spot she'd hit. His other hand came up and settled over hers and their eyes connected.

"Miss Granger," he said softly, the lilt of his voice was like silk on her skin, "if it means anything to you, I was sincere about what I'd said. We've had our…disagreements in the past but yet, I've come to hold you in higher esteem during our time spent together."

"Malfoy, are you just saying that to get into my knickers?"

"No," he answered then said in hopeful tones, "but has my confession facilitated the endeavour?"

"Maybe."

"Hmm."

"Malfoy, can I kiss you?"

He did not say anything for some time as he gave her a long, long look. She wondered why she'd asked him such an absurd question. If she'd wanted to kiss him, she could've simply leaned forward and did so. She also wondered when she'd suddenly gotten so brave. But then he replied quietly, "I see no reason why you needed to ask."

On her knees still, she leaned down and settled her mouth briefly on his before she began to kiss the corners of his lips, his cheeks and his throat where his pulse beat a steady tick. She returned to his mouth, enjoying the feel of his warm, soft lips against hers. She licked the seam of his lips and was rewarded when his mouth opened to deepen the kiss.

She purposefully kept the kiss chaste, waiting to see how long he'd hold before he tried to control the situation. It didn't take very long. With a low hum of frustration he pushed her onto her back, climbing on top of her, pressing her body into the bed with his.

Their kiss became heated and passionate, their tongues swirling and dancing. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying it's silken feel as he plundered her mouth with his. She could feel his hardness against her belly and wanting more, she encircled his waist with her legs, bringing her sex flush against him. Moaning into his mouth, she gyrated her hips, a silent plea for satisfaction.

He ripped his mouth away from hers and gazed down at her. She mewled at the lost of contact. In husky tones, he asked, "What do you want, witch?"

"I-I want you…" she responded breathily.

"Are you sure?"

Was she sure? Would she regret her decision? Maybe she would but it was far too late to turn back now. The fire of desire burned hot in her belly and she knew of only one way to exterminate it. "I am," she whispered.

He asked no more questions. Lifting himself onto his knees, he hoisted her dress up and off her body. This time she'd discarded her bra, and she was left only in her knickers. He reached out to touch her breasts but she waylaid his hands by attacking the buttons of his shirt. When she'd removed his shirt, he moved to stand on the bedroom floor as she made quick work to divest him of his trousers.

Lucius Malfoy was a slender, broad shouldered man with toned and wiry muscles. His skin, pale and porcelain-like, his long blonde hair and handsome, aristocratic features, gave him an almost angelic impression. On his left bicep, Hermione could just about make out a tattoo and the thought of a tattoo on Lucius was incredibly sexy to Hermione. She had to admit, for a man in his forties, he really was in good shape.

She glimpsed downward, ogling him. He was of good length and sufficient girth, the skin smooth, the veins barely visible. Without thinking she lifted her hand and encircled him with her palm, enjoying the firmness and the way he groaned at her touch. She pumped her hand down once and his hips bucked reflexively.

A pearl of liquid formed at the head and she wiped it away with her thumb. She wanted to taste him. She began to lean her body forward when Lucius pushed her back onto the bed and said, "No, not today."

He attacked her mouth once more, parting her lips with his tongue. He kissed her hard, devouring her mouth with a possessiveness that made her body shiver. Gripping her hair, he forced her neck upwards as he released her mouth to suck hard at her neck. His hands skimmed her body and wherever he touched left her skin heated and yearning for more.

Dipping his head, he captured her left nipple in his mouth and began to suck it. He swirled his tongue slowly around the bud, using the tip of his tongue to lick and flick it while he pinched and diddled its counterpart between his fingers. Hermione moaned low, sifting her fingers through his hair, holding him close to her breasts as he encircled each with his hot wet mouth.

Abandoning her breasts to the cool air, he kissed a path down her belly and slipped her knickers off without a pause. Then he touched her, pressing his hand flat and insistent against her aroused sex. Hermione gasped in shock and pleasure when he suddenly slipped a finger inside her, then two, dragging them along her walls. Awash with new and wonderful sensations, Hermione closed her eyes and moaned out her pleasure as Lucius picked up the pace.

Hermione could feel something building, slowly growing within her. What Lucius was doing to her was just divine. His fingers moved persistently, sweetly inside her and she felt the tension of her nearing climax like a rubber-band stretched tight. She longed for the snap. She whimpered and moaned and when she felt as though she could not handle the onslaught of sensations any longer, she felt Lucius settle his mouth on her swollen flesh. He licked once, twice then sucked hard. She came violently, crying out as her walls clenched around his fingers still moving deep within her, her body shivering from release.

He lifted himself to kiss her and she returned his kiss eagerly, tasting herself on his tongue. Parting her legs, he positioned himself between them and slowly began to enter her. He stopped when he encountered the barrier that signified her virtue.

"It will hurt," he said quietly.

"I know," she whispered.

With one fluid motion of his hips, Lucius penetrated her fully. She cried out in surprise and pain. Tears leaked from the corners of her tightly closed eyes and Lucius smoothed them away with his thumb. When it seemed that her discomfort had ebbed, he began to move slowly, fighting to keep in control as her tight, warm walls urged him to go faster.

Eventually, her hips began to move of their own accord so he accelerated his pace. Merlin, she felt so good he wondered why he'd taken so long to have her. Her little moans and gasps were music to his ears as he drove himself harder, faster, deeper.

She'd imagined the feel of Lucius before but the reality was far superior. His movements sent exquisite slivers coursing through her veins. He filled her completely, rubbing against her walls so deliciously that she begun to feel the familiar build of tension. She lifted her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. Moaning his name, she urged him to go harder.

She was so close. Her body began to shake, the waves of sensations getting stronger and stronger.

"Lucius…" she mewled.

"Yes, witch," he growled, "Say my name. Say it as you come for me."

He reached between her legs and fingered her swollen bud. Hermione, breathless, teetered on the edge before she fell hard, climaxing with a scream of Lucius' name as her inner walls convulsed around him. He sped up his pace and Hermione knew he was near. With a long, low groan of satisfaction, he spent himself within her.

In the quiet that followed, only the sounds of their ragged breathing could be heard. They were sweaty and spent, their limbs still tangled with one another's. Eventually, their racing heartbeats had calmed and they lay looking at each other in the dark.

"What now?" she asked quietly.

He smirked at her, "Round two?"

AN: Well, this chapter was the hardest and most frustrating to write. I believe the timing for their lovemaking is right but I fear that you, my dear readers, would think otherwise. It took me fourteen hours to fully write that scene and I have to take my hats off to those brave writers who forge ahead consistently even in the face of the embarrassment and discomfort. I am aware that it isn't as flowery as some scenes I (and you) have read. I tried to be as realistic as possible. Please do share your thoughts on this chapter, dear readers, for it will be greatly appreciated.

There may be some typo and/or grammatical errors littered in this chapter. It will be edited.

Thanks to all that reviewed Chapter Nine:

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