A/N: Teen rating. A Gift for GM Gaby. Drabble prompt: "No one is going to hurt you."

"Five Minutes"

. . .

Hermione paced the platform behind the thick burgundy curtains, heels clicking in a dooming tempo like the countdown of a bomb. She could hear the mass of what might as well be all wizarding kind gathered on the other side, waiting. 'Tens of thousands,' they'd told her. More to attend than any previous ceremony in all of history.

"I don't know if I can," she murmured under her breath, more to herself then anyone else. A pair of warm, strong hands took firm hold of her arms, turning her gently around.

A finger tipped her chin up to look him in the eye.

That piercing silver gleam, the amused arching brow. Gods he was not helping her calm down. Now two types of nerves were warring for dominance inside of her.

He had the nerve to smile that dazzling smile at her, the bastard.

"What's this?" he asked, "Where's that infamous Gryffindor bravery we campaigned so heavily on, mm?"

Hermione let out a great puffing sigh. "There were more this morning, Lucius. More death threats."

He wasn't letting go. This was new. Instead, he kept holding her arms, thumbs stroking soothing caresses across her bare skin.

"Potter and I have set every ward ourselves. We will be on either side the entire time," he reaffirmed. Likely for the fourth time that day.

Harry popped his head in. "Five minutes, Hermione." Even he looked nervous. Or was it excited? With Harry, she sometimes couldn't tell. The threat of danger and action still seemed to give him a bit of a thrill.

She wasn't afraid of dying, not anymore. Not even of being hexed or cursed really. Death was no stranger to her. But losing all their momentum, being unable to continue the work they had built these long months - the progress they were poised to bring to the world - it was too great a risk. No, they shouldn't have had a public acceptance ceremony - not with the raging blood supremacists' threats increasing by the day. Hermione sunk her teeth into her bottom lip with worry. "But what if someo-"

"No one is going to hurt you," Lucius vowed, a dangerous spark flashing suddenly in his eyes, words spoken with ultimate finality. Protective. Possessive. She could feel the power of his magic humming off of him.

The determined, burning threat in his stare reminded her so of who he used to be, of the days long past when he was that forbidding, dark wizard who struck fear into her with that same look, not her dearly trusted advisor and, dare she say it, friend.

Now she realized, that same look in his eyes gave her a thrill. One that was all too connected to the suddenly all-encompassing need for him to keep touching her, to never stop touching her.

She began to melt beneath his reassuring touch, nerves slowly dissolving with every breath. He watched her, eyes tracking across her face, lingering a moment longer over her lips.

"And if anyone so much as tries…" Lucius said, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear, "I'll have their head on a pike."

"Merlin, Malfoy," Harry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "As Head Auror I did not hear that." With a final shake of his head and a quickly muttered, "Four minutes," Harry disappeared through the curtain as quickly as he'd come. She stared after him, the heavy fabric fluttering in his wake. Lucius' smooth voice brought her back.

"Almost time, my dear."

Hermione's mind began to race through her notes, rehearsed phrases, highlighted talking points. Her eyes practically glazed over reviewing memorized information, as they often had before her exams.

"You look stunning, by the way. Have I told you that?"

He'd said something. She was sure he'd said something. "What?" she asked, dazed.

He wasn't responding to her question. Instead, a frustrated crease of apparent vexation had appeared between his pale brows. Hermione felt the weight of the impending moment of ceremony upon her, mind continuing to snowball in worry after worry.

"Lucius, I'm ready, I know that, we've prepared for this, I just - what if -"

With a growl, his lips covered hers in a fervent kiss. Charged, insistent, all-consuming.

She was frozen for a moment in shock, but then oh, his arms were around her, his lips soft against hers, tongue parting them to claim her. Sweet agonizing Yes. His kiss was covetous in it's unbridled passion. Hot, sinful perfection. A soft moan escaped her as he deepened it hungrily, pulling back only to tug at her kiss-swollen lip with his teeth.

The room was spinning. Heat pulsed between her legs as she tried to catch her breath.

"Y-you kissed me." Hermione murmured, knees still weak in blissful, swooning delight.

He smirked at her bewildered expression. "How observant you are."

"But you've never - You kissed me, Lucius."

"I did," he said, his commanding embrace tightening around her as he leaned down slowly once more, stopping mere inches from her lips. "Are you sufficiently distracted?" he whispered.

Desire thrummed through her. To hell with the ceremony. A bed. Now. "To put it mildly," she breathed.

"Good." Victory gleamed in his darkened eyes. He turned her around to face the podium, pressing her speech into her hands.

Hermione shivered with pleasure as she felt Lucius press his body flush against her back, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Once you've finished, I've a thought or two of how we might celebrate..." His voice alone told her there was a devilishly wicked grin on his lips.

His teeth scraped a playful nip at her earlobe. "Now give them hell, Minister."

Hermione felt the heat of him part from her.

She took a deep grounding breath, an irrepressible smile spreading across her face.

The curtains opened.

. . .