The next morning, Draco slept in, and so Hermione and Lucius were blissfully alone at breakfast. Having finally reclaimed her confidence, Hermione was feeling much less shy than had been her habit. She simply followed her thoughts where they took her and wasn't considering her words before she spoke them.

"Where will we go on our honeymoon?" she asked him, resting her chin in one hand and drumming the nails of her other on the table.

"Anywhere you like," he answered indulgently. "Italy, Spain, the Virgin Islands…"

"The Virgin Islands," she repeated, "now there's an idea. A fitting one, given my near-virginal level of experience."

Lucius chuckled in response. "You shouldn't worry about that."

"That's easy for you to say," she laughed. "No one I've been with can stand up as competition. Not even the mystery third man."

"Hmm," he acknowledged, losing some of his enthusiasm for the conversation.

"Once I reveal his identity to you, you'll know all there is to know about my history," she continued.

"I'm all ears," he said, though he seemed less than eager to hear it.

This, of course, escaped Hermione's notice. Blushing, she said, "It's Harry."

His brow furrowed, and he blinked twice. He seemed to be struggling to understand her. "Harry Potter?" he asked.

"The very same," she confirmed. She did not notice his expression becoming more and more surly. "It was stupid. I had just broken up with Ron, and he and Ginny were fighting, and next thing you know…" She shrugged. "It was just the once, but still, when you've only been with three people, you kind of have to count them all—" She broke off when she looked at him. "What's the matter?"

A storm was brewing in his face, and it took him several moments to speak. "Am I to understand," he began dangerously, "that you maintain a close relationship with one of your ex-lovers?"

"I—" Hermione stammered, her brow furrowed and her head shaking, "he's not—" Still she couldn't string her thoughts together. "It's not like that," she said.

"You are not to see him anymore," he said flatly.

"What?" Hermione said, incredulous.

"It is entirely inappropriate," he maintained, although his acrimony made it clear that it was not societal standards with which he was concerned. "He cannot remain in your circle. It is incomprehensible."

"He's my best friend!" she protested. "He's the husband of my other best friend! You can't expect me to cut him out of my life."

"I can't?" Lucius asked coolly, his eyes as hard as steel.

Hermione's face turned dark. "I won't," she said with finality.

His jaw tightened, and everything about his stance was screaming that he would not back down. "We shall see," he said ominously, and left the room.

Hermione had no plans for the day, but she wanted to put space between herself and Lucius, so she left the manor to have a cup of coffee at her favorite Muggle café. She made that experience last a full half-hour, but at the end of it was still not ready to return. Instead, she decided to walk around Diagon Alley and window shop.

She made herself pass by Flourish & Blott's without entering; she had a rule for herself that she could not buy any new books until at least half of her latest purchases were read. Since she had not met her quota, she quickened her step before her resolve could weaken.

Some time later she found herself standing outside Madam Malkin's. She looked at the mannequins in the window; one wore a set of school robes, another a pair of standard dress robes, and another wore a long, lilac gown.

Hermione pondered on the shade and style for a moment; she had not put any thought into bridesmaid dresses. Come to think of it, she had not even chosen her bridesmaids. Ginny would be her matron of honor, of course; that much was a given. She could ask Luna, she decided; they were no longer in close contact, but fighting an actual battle side-by-side with a person has a way of bonding you for life. She could also ask Angelina; Hermione was an unofficial Weasley, and as George's wife, she and Angelina were practically in-laws.

How many bridesmaids would she need, she wondered? How many groomsmen would Lucius have?

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around to see Ginny standing before her.

"Hi!" she greeted her with a smile, but in the next instant she was gasping as her friend slapped her across the face, hard.

"You two-faced slag," Ginny rumbled, her voice low and heavy with anger.

Hermione stared at her in shock. "Ginny," she breathed, not knowing where this assault had come from.

"I can't believe you looked me in the face and pretended to be my friend," Ginny said, shuddering all over. "Did you really think I'd never find out?"

Suddenly, she understood. Her heart fell into her stomach like an ice-cold stone as the realization sank in. "Ginny," she said again in horror, reaching out to her without thinking.

Ginny shrank away from her. "Don't touch me," she spat, her lips curled into a disgusted sneer. "Don't come near me. Don't come near my husband, don't come near my child." At this last, she placed a hand on her belly and her face broke. Tears filled her eyes.

Hermione's own eyes filled as well. "Ginny, please," she beseeched, her voice small and frail.

"No," Ginny cried through clenched teeth, her tears spilling down her cheeks. "Don't. Don't ever speak to me again."

Presumably not trusting herself to Apparate, she spun around and walked away. Hermione could do nothing but watch her go.

"Lucius!" Hermione shouted as she stormed through the doors of the manor. "Lucius Malfoy, come here this instant!"

He rounded the corner, a puzzled look on his face. "Hermione, what on earth—?"

"You told her!" she accused hotly. She had summoned up anger to drown out her overwhelming despair, and to her embarrassment and disappointment, it was already slipping away, leaving only sadness behind. "I can't believe you told her," she said, her voice growing small.

"What?" he asked as he continued his journey across the room, obviously not understanding her. "Told who?"

"Who do you think?" Hermione spat at him. "Ginny! I just saw her in Diagon Alley. She called me a two-faced slag and said she never wanted to see me again. She was my friend." The tears came again and, knowing she had no prayer of stopping them, she didn't try. "She was my best friend, and now she loathes me. And she'll never let me near Harry again, but that's exactly what you wanted, isn't it?" Her anger came surging back, and she eyed him with contempt. "I can't believe you did this to me!"

"Hermione," he said with great concern, "I haven't said a word."

At this, she scoffed. "Really?" she challenged him derisively. "Well, I haven't told anyone but you, so unless you're suggesting that Harry conveniently lost his bloody mind andtold his eight-months-pregnant wife on the same day I lost my bloody mind and told you..."

"Hermione, I swear to you, I haven't-" he suddenly broke off, a thought having struck him, and his face went dark. Gritting his teeth, he muttered something.

"What?" Hermione impatiently demanded, not having heard him.

"Draco," he repeated.

"Draco?" Hermione repeated skeptically, unable to thoroughly process the idea as she had been so certain that Lucius had been the one to spill her secret.

"Yes," he said. "I passed him in the hall after breakfast this morning; he must have overheard us. It's the only explanation. Obviously you didn't tell Ginny; and I promise you, Hermione, neither did I."

Hermione only looked at him, her arms folded protectively across her chest, unsure of what to believe.

"Wait here," he said, and Disapparated.

Hermione waited, turning to and fro as she did, trying not to think about what had transpired at Diagon Alley, not wanting to dissolve into tears again. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, perhaps five minutes, when she heard a pop.

Lucius had reappeared, gripping a hunched-over Draco by the back of the neck. "Now what exactly," he began, baring his teeth and enunciating every syllable, "did you tell her?"

The younger Malfoy wrestled away from his father and straightened his spine in defiance. "It isn't complicated," he spat. "I told the She-Weasel that Little Miss Perfect shagged her husband," he admitted brazenly. "She had the right to know."

Hermione was stunned, though she wasn't sure why. Draco was a nasty, scheming viper, and this was completely believable of him. "Oh, please!" she shouted once she had come back to herself, charging him and violently pushing his chest. "Don't even try to pretend," she continued, shoving him again, "that you did this for her benefit! You've never thought of anyone but yourself in your whole, miserable life!"

With her last word, she lunged at him, but Lucius stepped in between them. "I don't suppose," he said over his shoulder, keeping a struggling Hermione away from his son, "you imparted upon Mrs. Potter the time or circumstances under which this regrettable event occurred?"

Draco shrugged one shoulder in the most cavalier way he could manage. "Why should I?"

"She thinks this happened recently?" Hermione asked, stunned anew. "Does she think it's still happening?"

Draco's silence served as his answer.

Her draw dropped to the floor. "You are unfathomable!" she shrieked, lunging at him again, but Lucius held her back.

"You will make this right," Draco's father told him firmly.

"I will not," he argued confidently.

But then, Lucius released his hold on Hermione and advanced on Draco so quickly that she didn't even have the chance to absorb the fact that she was no longer being restrained. He gripped the fabric of Draco's shirt and pushed him up against the nearest wall, the younger man's back making contact with a thud. "You have done harm to my fiancée," Lucius began, his voice low and menacing, "and you will make it right." At last, Draco appeared to me taking his father seriously. "If I have not received direct communication from Mrs. Potter by dinnertime that you have told her the truth - the whole truth - mark my words, boy, you will regret it."

He released his son with disgust. "When you return here, have a care that you stay out of our sight," he muttered venomously. Draco Disapparated.

Lucius remained in the same spot, not looking at Hermione, and what she had just witnessed had taken all the wind out of her sails. She no longer felt righteously indignant; rather, she felt like she had wronged Lucius. "I'm sorry I assumed it was you," she said quietly.

A beat passed, then two. "Yes," he said, turning slightly towards her but still not meeting her eyes. "You were rather quick to think the worst of me."

"I'm sorry," she said again, feeling ashamed of herself. "But when we were arguing, when I said I wouldn't cut Harry out of my life, you said 'We'll see.'"

At this, he lowered his head and sighed. "I often have to have the last word," he explained. Then, finally, he brought his gaze to hers. "I rarely mean it."

She shyly took a few steps towards him, stopping at arm's length. After a moment, she tentatively reached for his sleeve, and gently fingered the fabric at his cuff.

He slowly turned until he was facing her head-on, took the single step needed to close the distance between them, and gathered her into his arms. "I am accustomed to having my way," he acknowledged, "but I wouldn't go about getting it by hurting you."

She rested her hands on his arms and nestled her head into his shoulder, but said nothing. She believed him. She didn't know if that made her foolish, but there it was.

"We'll set it right," he assured her. "If Draco doesn't correct this, I will. Everything will be alright."

Hermione pulled away just a bit and held up her little finger. "Swear?"

Lucius looked down at her gesture and furrowed his brows in consternation. "What in the world is that?"

She laughed once. "It's a Muggle thing," she said with a shrug. "It's called a pinky swear. It's like a promise."

Still looking confused, he slowly held up his own little finger.

She hooked her pinky around his for a moment, and then let it go.

He laughed quietly through his nose at the silly Muggle practice, placed a kiss on her forehead and said, "Come. Let's have a small drink and you can tell me why I've nothing to fear from your friend Harry Potter."

In the study, drink in hand, Hermione did her best to explain to Lucius that while what had occurred between her and Harry had been sex, it hadn't been sexual. She had just broken up with Ron that day and was devastated (though now, in hindsight, she rolled her eyes at how silly it was to be devastated over losing Ron). Harry and Ginny had had an enormous fight and had technically broken up as well. Hermione, not yet knowing this, went to Harry's flat to talk to him about Ron. He then told her about Ginny. They sat down together, drowned their sorrows, and one thing, as it so often does, led to another.

"We were sad and lonely and drunk," Hermione explained. "It was the most ridiculous thing ever. The next morning, we looked at each other and we both knew that it was never going to happen again. He fixed things with Ginny that same day, and honestly, Lucius, it's been like it never happened. We've never even talked about it, because there's nothing to talk about. It doesn't matter. It didn't change anything for either of us."

He had listened intently and now nodded, mulling it over. "Why did you tell me?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. Why, indeed? If only she had kept it to herself… "Well, you knew I had been with three men," she began, "and you knew about two of them. I figured eventually you'd want to hear about the third. And I suppose…" she trailed off, thinking. "I suppose sharing secrets with you made me feel like we were friends." She looked up at him apologetically. "Sometimes I have to remind myself that we're supposed to be more than that. If I had been thinking of you as my fiancé, I would have known better than to treat it so casually."

Before he could respond, Fern came into the room and delivered a rolled-up piece of parchment.

"This just arrived by owl for you, Master."

"Thank you, Fern." The elf skittered out of the room and Lucius unrolled it. "It's from Ginny," he said.

Hermione leapt out of her chair and snatched the note from his hands.

Draco told me everything.
I need time.
Ginny

When she finished reading, Hermione and Lucius locked eyes. She exhaled, nodding, and handed it back to him.

He read it himself and set it aside. He looked at Hermione, who appeared upset. "It's good news," he told her.

She nodded, but didn't say anything.

"You can't expect her to forgive you right away," he gently informed her.

"No, I know that. And I don't. It's just…" She swallowed, trying to clear the lump in her throat, and helplessly shrugged. "I miss her."

Her spirits being as depressed as they were, Hermione spent the rest of the day alone, reading. She did join Lucius for dinner, but found her appetite somewhat lacking. She was grateful that he did not press her for conversation; when they migrated to his study, they sat comfortably by the fire, sipping their brandy in silence.

More than once, Hermione found herself wishing she was sitting on the same piece of furniture next to him, rather than in her own chair some three feet away. Then she could rest her head on his shoulder, or hold his hand, or simply enjoy the proximity. It was normally words that brought them close, but since she had none to give, she felt disconnected from him, and she didn't care for it.

But his own chair, identical to hers, was not large enough to accommodate them both, so she remained.

It wasn't until almost eleven o'clock, when she brought the back of her hand up to hide her yawn, that he spoke. "Bedtime?"

She nodded. "Yeah," she softly answered.

He rose from his chair as she set her glass on the small table between them, and before she could stand, he held out his hand to assist her. She took it, expecting him to let go of her when she was on her feet, but he didn't. He led her from the room, all the while gently holding her hand. She recognized that she was already in a state of high emotion, but as she felt the warmth of his hand in hers and gazed at his shoulders and the back of his blonde head, she was overcome with tenderness for Lucius; so much so that her eyes began to sting. She was careful not to look at him as she fell in step beside him, but gave his hand the barest squeeze of gratitude.

When they reached her room, he kissed her cheek. "Goodnight," he said, releasing her hand.

"Goodnight," she replied with a small smile, and turned towards her door.

"Hermione?"

She stopped and faced him again.

He had a peculiar look on his face, his eyes slightly narrowed as he gazed into hers, as though he were trying to decipher her answer so he wouldn't have to ask the question. "Would…" he began, but trailed off, unsure how to continue. "Would it be alright if I—"

"Yes," Hermione said, perhaps a little too eagerly.

He slowly blinked, then took a step. He took another, so they were toe-to-toe.

She could feel the heat from his body. Her ears began to hum.

He leaned towards her, his hands landing on her waist.

Their breath mingled before their lips connected.

They lost track of time; it could have been a few seconds or a few minutes. One hand was on his chest, the other behind his neck, but she couldn't remember putting them there. Someone could have walked right up to them and they never would have noticed.

It was soft and firm; smooth and rough; the kind of kiss that makes you dizzy, but you don't realize it until you stop.

It was Lucius who finally pulled away, just an inch. "Perhaps that will help you remember," he whispered, his breath caressing her face, "I am not your friend."

Hermione couldn't speak, so she simply nodded.

"I should go," he said, stepping away.

"Why?" she managed to get out, her voice breathy.

"Because I want to treat you like a lady," he replied, his every muscle tensed with the effort to remain where he was. After a moment, his mouth twitched in a devilish smirk. "But sometimes I forget."

The implication of what he said sank into her mind, and it was precisely at moments like these she wished her mind could maintain its sharpness when met with Lucius' roguish charm. Instead she was left with a brain full of cotton candy and three or four words, one of which being: "'Kay."