AN: Not me updating on April Fool's day lol
A powerful throb behind the eyes was the first calling card, reminding Hermione of her late-night activities. She was actively trying to ignore it, to snuggle deeper into the silken sheets that wrapped her up in a warm cocoon. Alas, it was not meant to be. No sooner had she pressed her head more firmly into the feather pillow that cradled her neck, than a blinding shard of morning light poured into the window. It illuminated her face until all she could see at the back of her lids was an aura of red.
It must be some law of the universe, that. The morning sun never shone at your feet; never at your back. It always came for the eyes. A grim reminder that the world kept turning even if you are not awake to enjoy it.
Hermione withheld an irritable groan as she managed to eke her eyelids open. They were sagging with lethargy from the copious amount of alcohol she consumed last night. Her eyes were dry, and most certainly bloodshot, so she gave them a good rub with the pads of her thumb and index finger, noting the grit of her mascara as it clumped from the gentle pressure. So much for light makeup. She blinked a few times to spread the meager tears that she could produce until the haze lifted.
Her vision now cleared, Hermione took a measure of her surroundings. Alarms immediately began to peal inside her mind. This was not her room in Grimmauld Place, nor did it appear to be any of her friends. Confusion engulfed her as she attempted to piece together the previous night's events.
Vague memories of the evening flooded into her consciousness. Jameson? Yes, there was a lot of that. Fireball? There was quite a lot of that as well. But how the bloody hell had she wound up here?
With the intent to rise, Hermione pulled the sheet back, but quickly, she discovered the answer to her own question. There was a lean arm seized about her torso, and the resistance damn near caused her to yelp.
Oh.
My.
God.
Hermione craned her neck, following the path of this unknown appendage to its origin. There, she found the owner still deep in slumber. The warmth of his breath wisped through the brown tangle of her hair, caressing the nape of her neck. The tenderness of his hold could almost be considered pleasant, if not for one pesky detail: he was Lucius bloody Malfoy.
Panic welled in her chest and Hermione struggled to find her breath. It barely rasped beyond her dry lips as the realization of last night's debauched acts dawned. She let her head fall back into the pillow with a tremulous huff. Did she really sleep with him last night? At the reverberating ache and the tackiness between her thighs, she could confirm that, oh yes! She did. Now, she had to figure some way to navigate the aftermath. The last thing she wanted was to alert him to her wakefulness. Especially so, now that she was aware of her current state of undress .
Memories of the evening were tumbling back to Hermione in starts and spurts. Ginny convinced her to go out on a pub crawl across Muggle London with the girls, and between the pints, and the cocktail mixes, Hermione found herself sufficiently blattered. Then she found Malfoy by the bar and the girls went home without her except Hannah who waited for her inside Rose & Crown. At least, Hermione thought that was what happened.
Scrunching up her face, Hermione turned back again to the wizard spooned behind her. She still couldn't believe that she slept with him. A man who was two decades older than her! It was not the wisest of her decisions, but she wasn't exactly thinking clearly, and Malfoy seemed harmless enough that night.
Under normal circumstances, Hermione might assume that he took advantage of her, but Malfoy was also as sloshed as her, judging by the way he tasted of firewhiskey that night when he kissed her. Besides, she could've said no when Malfoy held out his hand for her, and Hermione, despite her doubts about him, was sure that he would respect her decision.
Blurry memories transformed into a graphic play by play. Every touch, taste, smell of the evening prior flooded into Hermione's consciousness, and their recollection reignited the flames of her desire. But moreover, there was also that deep-seated shame that could only come with renewed sobriety and moral guilt. She pressed her fingers at her temple at that. She wasn't a person to engage in one-night stands frequently, but she very well couldn't see having any sort of relationship with the man pressed behind her. Changed or not, Hermione didn't think that he would want to as well.
Decision made, Hermione eased out from beneath Malfoy's hold. He stirred slightly, and her lungs wanted to burst with the breath she held hostage. She froze where she sat, and willed him to stay asleep. When he finally settled again, she swiftly, quietly, carefully rose to gather her clothing and her wand. It was scattered haphazardly about the room, and the location of her bra escaped her ken.
In her search for the errant lace, Hermione felt a creak beneath her foot, and her eyes widened in dismay as the sound echoed around the room. The sleeping wizard didn't stir in her periphery, and she said a silent prayer of thanks to every deity she knew.
Continuing her hunt, Hermione finally spotted the stray bit of lavender. It was trapped under a pale, well-formed calf. She debated for half a second whether to attempt its extraction, but promptly abandoned the idea. It was her favorite bra plus it matched with her knickers, but she would happily sacrifice it to avoid the awkward morning after scenario.
In nothing but her birthday suit, Hermione slung her meager belongings over her arm, her wand tucked underneath her armpit, and tiptoed out of the bedroom into the wide hall. Other than a few creaks in the floorboards, she made it to the main foyer in relative quiet. What is it with this Manor and my desperate need to get out? The last time she was here, she was tortured nearly to death by an insane (and thankfully dead) witch and now, just last night, she was shagged senseless by the house patriarch. Hermione was beginning to think that there may be a different meaning to the phrase la petite mort .
Once in the foyer and hidden from view from any sudden intruder, she finally redressed herself sans lace and combed her fingers through her sleep tousled hair. Her heels were dangled in her fingers and she debated whether to wear them or just walk barefooted before going with the latter.
Opening the front doors of the Manor, Hermione walked briskly towards the gates. She remembered about the wards surrounding the place when they were brought here years ago and she silently hoped that none of those wards would eviscerate her in place for being a Muggleborn.
It took her nearly five minutes to get to the gates and silently thanked whichever deity was looking down upon her right now that no one had seen her. The gates, much to her surprise, opened in their own accord, and she breathed a sigh of relief when her body parts seemed still intact. They must've changed the wards , she thought.
Hermione worried at her lip and glanced around the street. It was mostly quiet and Malfoy's property was isolated from the other neighborhood but she didn't want to linger by the front gates lest someone took a peek by their window and saw a bedraggled woman out on the streets sporting a crazy set of raccoon eyes.
As soon as she spotted a secluded place, Hermione immediately apparated with the front doors of Grimmauld Place as her destination in mind.
The place was eerily quiet when her feet landed on the ancient floorboards. Hermione tip-toed her way towards the stairs, hoping that Ginny and Harry were still in bed and they wouldn't notice her sneaking back home during the day. A clearing of someone's throat behind her crushed that hope to dust.
"Well, well, look who just did the walk of shame."
Bugger, bugger, bugger!
Ginny was leaning against the wooden frame of the archway that led to the kitchens and looked like she hadn't been drinking for six hours straight last night.
Hermione turned around and plastered her most innocent smile. "Good morning, Gin."
"Good morning indeed," Ginny waggled her eyebrows at her friend before motioning for Hermione to come with her. "C'mon. There is tea in the kitchen and a hangover potion too. Oh, and before you go into hysterics, I have to warn you—"
Hermione stopped in her tracks. "What is he doing here!"
"—that Draco Malfoy is here," she heard Ginny sighed beside her. "We're all adults here. No fighting, okay?"
"No fighting?" Hermione scoffed. "Tell that to that prick over there! I couldn't count the number of times he had bullied me and called me names!"
Draco Malfoy, the bane of her existence during her school years, was sitting beside Harry and was hunched over his cup of tea. He looked like he was run over by the Hogwarts express, judging by the tousled hair and deep bags beneath his eyes. Hermione also noted that he looked a little green on the sides.
Something in her stomach twisted and it wasn't from hate or remorse. It was quite far from those emotions. Draco Malfoy being here reminded Hermione where she had been minutes ago. A shiver crawled up her spine at the idea that Draco might have been in the Manor last night or— Merlin forbid —just this morning.
I shagged the father and now I'm arguing with the son. Good god! The holy spirit was the only missing piece to this sacrilegious trifecta.
"Look," Draco held up his hands, snapping Hermione out of inner turmoil. "I'm really sorry about all that. I-I know I did some bad things—"
"'Some bad things'? That's the understatement of the century."
"—but I regret all of it," Draco continued talking over her unabated. "If I could undo everything I would. If you want to punch me in the face, I would let you. If you want to hex me to bits, I would let you. If you want to—"
"Okay, okay, that's enough," Hermione held up a hand. Draco's rambling was only amplifying her headache. "Look, Ferret. You can't just say those things and expect me to forgive you right on the spot. Let me process it first."
"It was worth a shot." Her former schoolmate gave her a tired smile and a shrug. "But I mean what I said. I am really sorry for being a major prick all those years ago."
"Aww, look at you two!" Ginny gushed as she pulled two vials from the kitchen cabinet and handed it to Hermione. "Now that's out of the way, here, drink this."
Hermione examined the two vials in her hand. The one with the bluish liquid was the hangover potion while the other one was unknown to her. "What's this?" she shook the pale yellow liquid.
"Morning after potion. Unless you didn't forget to cast protection when you did the deed," Ginny said and Hermione went considerably pale while Harry and Draco both spit out their tea onto the table. "What is wrong with you two?"
Hermione opened her mouth to say something but when words failed her, she closed it again. Ginny pulled out a chair for her and Hermione slumped down ungracefully. She thought for sure she was going to faint. The idea of being pregnant with Lucius Malfoy's child hit her like a freight train. She uncorked the two vials and drank them in one go like how she tossed the Jameson and Fireball last night, her face scrunching up at the revolting taste.
Dammit! How could I be so careless?
It wasn't that Hermione didn't want to have children, no. She and Ron had discussed having at least two kids back when they were still together. A boy and a girl with bright blue eyes, flaming red curls, and heart-shaped faces.
It was just… gods.
She could've been pregnant by Lucius bloody Malfoy by now. A well-known Pureblood purist. And that fact that they were both strangers to each other prior to their shagging last night was just an added bonus. If Ginny—bless her friend—hadn't pointed out her lack of contraceptive charms, Hermione would most probably go about her day in blissful ignorance until it was too late.
"Did you just—" Harry sucked in a breath. "Did you just hooked up with someone last night?"
"That's not really any of your business," she gave him her best stink eye but it certainly lacked conviction.
"Don't be such a prude, babe," Ginny admonished her fiancé before turning back to Hermione. "Our baby girl is all grown up! Now spill! I want details! Was it good? Was it terrible? Come on! I'm dying here!"
Hermione rolled her eyes at her overenthusiastic friend. Ginny wasn't actually aware of Hermione's liaisons after her breakup with Ron.
"Seriously, Gin. You do know I'm two years older than you? And I don't think Harry and Draco here would want to hear all the sordid details. They both look like they're going to puke any minute now," she nodded in their direction. "And I don't think we'll meet up again anyway."
Ginny gave her a huge pout. "Why not?"
Hermione paused. Telling them that it was because it was Lucius Malfoy was definitely out of the question—not unless she wanted to get locked up in the Janus Thickey ward. "He's older."
At her answer, Ginny's eyes took on a mischievous glint. "Like how older? Ten years? Fifteen?" When Hermione didn't answer, Ginny made a loud gasp. "Merlin's beard, Hermione! Please tell me you didn't hook up with someone's grandfather?"
At Ginny's last word, Draco bolted to the sink and puked all of his stomach's current contents while Harry wasn't so lucky and only managed to turn his head to the side and vomited on the spot.
"I am not cleaning that," Ginny deadpanned. Harry pulled out his wand and vanished the pool of vomit on the floor.
"Gods, Ginny, no," Hermione grimaced. She took a shaky sip of her tea, hoping to ease the building tension. "He's probably around my parent's age, maybe a few years younger."
Ginny and Harry visibly sighed with relief while Draco was still perched by the sink. "Oh, well. That's not bad. I mean Draco's dad is still hella hot and he's like forty-five or something."
Hermione went into violent fits of coughing when the tea she was drinking passed through the wrong hole. Harry shot his fiancé a pleading look while Draco started another round of heaving by the sink.
"What? I'm just saying," the redhead shrugged.
"Gin, please, enough," Hermione managed to say after her bout of coughing fit had subsided. You have no idea how you've hit the nail on the head. "Fuck me," she whispered to herself.
"I would, but someone already did," Ginny winked at her.
Hermione groaned. "You're the worst."
"Oh, please. You'd be bored without me," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I'm just saying that if the sex was that good it wouldn't hurt to keep the guy around. There's no law saying you have to be in a relationship. It can be just sex, nothing more."
Hermione sighed and rubbed the remaining mascara off her eyes. If Ginny only knew who Hermione was referring to. "You know that's not how I work."
"No offense, hon, but how you work sucks. Need I remind you of my brother? Of Oliver Wood?"
"Oliver doesn't count. He's a stalker," she huffed.
Ginny waved her off. "Whatever. My point still stands."
Hermione heard the sink running and a minute later, Draco finally joined them back on the table. He looked a little worse than he did a while ago.
"You okay there, bud?" Harry asked.
Draco took a sip of his tea before nodding. "I think so. I'm lucky it's the weekend or else I'll never hear the end of it from my father."
Hermione's back immediately straightened at that and it wasn't long before her mind began to wander to again to him—to Lucius Malfoy. In her twenty-three years, she had never had a drunken one-night stand. She had never felt the compunction to even attempt such a thing. Most of her one-offs were deliberate and planned quite ahead. Somehow, she didn't think what happened last night was a normal occurrence for such an event. Not from the stories she'd heard from Ginny or Parvati, at least.
Closing her eyes, Hermione could still feel the give in the mattress as he laid her down amidst the cool sheets. Could still feel the racing of her heart while his experienced hands explored the curves and dips of her body. A blush crept into her cheeks with the remembrance.
She must've been making a face because Ginny was laughing out loud now beside her.
"Damn, he must be that good for you to space out like that," Ginny whistled. Both Harry and Draco groaned in despair.
"Lay off, Ginevra," Hermione swatted her friend's shoulder lightly before changing the subject. She looked at the two boys in front of her. "How long the two of you have been on friendly terms?"
Harry and Draco glanced at each other, unsure of her question. "Are we friends?" Draco asked.
"I guess so, yeah," Harry scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, we just got drunk together last night so…"
"Boys," Ginny muttered.
"So, you two only became friends overnight?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry. "How did this come about?"
"Well, uh, the Ministry has opened up a bidding process for a private sector to handle all of their accounts which I think you already know since you're part of the selection committee that will oversee the tender," Harry explained.
"And? What has this got to do with that?"
"Well, I saw Potter as I exited the conference room. The competition is kind of tight so I swallowed my pride and asked for his help."
"And you want the opportunity to grease the wheels," finished Hermione, eyes looking at Draco.
"Potter, really?" Harry said glibly. "I call you Draco and you still call me Potter?"
"Habit," Draco raised both hands defensively before looking at Hermione.
"You do know Harry has no influence over this?" she asked.
"I know. But you do," Draco smiled at her. "As I said, competition is tight. And no law says you can't ask for help."
"Malfoy Enterprise is International Association of Quidditch's agency," Ginny explained before Hermione could reply. "Draco was just telling me how IAQ recently signed them up again after trying out other agencies in between." The admiration in her voice was unmistakable.
"Can't blame them, really," Draco shrugged self-effacingly. "After many years together, it's only natural to wonder what you might be missing out with other agencies. Even when your current relationship is happy. I think it's healthy to try out different things if only to work out what you like best."
"What does that say about loyalty, then?" The question slipped out before Hermione could stop herself.
"Father said that loyalty is the privilege of the bygone era, unfortunately," Draco answered. "He taught me to remain loyal to my clients. But loyalty is not the currency of the age."
"Draco also mentioned how he can do some data cleansing for us," Harry added, pleased. "I was just talking about how ironic it was that the Ministry couldn't get a clean record of addresses without accidentally mailing deceased persons, and Draco tells me that Malfoy Enterprise had recently branched out into geodemographics."
"Yes," Draco continued smoothly, "I was just telling Pott—erm, Harry how Malfoy Enterprise would be happy to give a complimentary cleanse of a state-wide mailing list as a trial run, and if you like the result, we could work out a package deal with you going forward."
"That's if we decide to go with your agency, of course," Hermione reminded him. Two thoughts passed through her mind right now: one was that Draco Malfoy really had changed and, two, if his company won the tender, there was a huge possibility of her encountering Lucius Malfoy again—something Hermione wasn't sure she was prepared for or even wanted to. Ginny said that he had stepped down but that didn't mean he wasn't completely uninvolved with the company anymore.
Goddamn him and his long, silky blond hair!
She could always come clean of course, she reasoned. Conflict of interest, giving Malfoy Enterprise the job when the current CEO's attractive father had just given a Selection Committee member a mind-blowing orgasm last night, and her legs were still wobbly. Except how on earth was she going to explain him to her friends and family? Hermione Granger, the golden girl, hooked up with a former Death Eater and someone twice her age.
Her friends would freak out. Ginny might strangle her to death. Her parents would just be deeply disappointed… and between the two, Hermione dreaded the latter far more.
"It doesn't matter either way," Draco replied, completely unfazed. "Our geodemographic branch is a separate product, so even if we were to lose the tender—and we would be absolutely crushed if we did, of course—we could still do good work for you through that."
Hermione felt a pang of annoyance, even as she salivated at the possibilities of having a market segmentation giant at her fingertips. As much as she hated to admit it, Malfoy Enterprise was really ahead of most of the wizarding companies in the entire continent and glancing at Harry now, it was probably the reason he brought Draco here. To convince her of the merits of switching to the private sector. Well, they could keep on wishing because there was no way in hell that she'll work there now. At least there was the tender. But dammit , he wanted to give Draco a chance but the thought of meeting his father again without the influence of alcohol this time made her second guess everything.
"Let me think about it. There's still two weeks before the Ministry releases a statement," Hermione pushed her chair back and stood. "In the meantime, I'm going to take a shower and sleep some more."
"Well, you do reek of sex," Ginny wrinkled her nose at her friend. A collective groan could be heard from the other three.
"Ugh, Ginny!"
He woke up in his bed, a thin sheen of perspiration coating skin. It's one of those dreams again. Lucius had kicked off the covers and it was just as well, for he had come all over his chest like a horny, hairless boy. The air was oppressively still, apart from the ragged breaths, the rise and fall of his chest which he willed now to slow. Miraculously, he thought he can still faintly taste vanilla. The clock beside him was an hour away from sunrise but he knew there won't be any sleep now. He stared up at the vaulted ceiling and glared at the gods.
Long showers. Needs must.
It wasn't very often that Lucius Malfoy found himself distracted. But here he was, standing in his shower for the third morning in a row, wanking himself off like a teenager. Bloody embarrassing.
The moment she left the Manor that day, he knew he was in trouble. He was awake the entire time she was tiptoeing around him and it had taken every ounce of his considerable ego and self-control not to drop on his knees and beg her to stay. And every stray moment after that, he found himself itching to find out where she was living. It got so bad, he went back to that Muggle pub for three consecutive nights hoping she would be there with her friends.
He even accepted a proposition with a stranger two nights ago while he was at the Rose & Crown because the Muggle chit was passably hot. A blonde bombshell that reminded him of his ex-wife during her younger days. All sun-kissed skin and perky tits, and a mouth that could bring you to places. All the promise of one long dirty night and a short sex hangover before he was back to his usual routine like a new man, cured of this schoolboy obsession.
And yet he had been bored twenty minutes in.
What was it about Hermione Granger, anyway? Lucius was damned if he knew. She wasn't, what he'd call, experienced , but she was a damn natural. That was probably the biggest turn-on for him, that and the fact that she was so bloody responsive. Genuinely responsive. The noises she made when she was close, wrenched out of her almost in spite of herself...
He felt himself harden again.
And she had been drop-dead gorgeous that night. So far from the bucktoothed, bushy-haired girl when he first met her all those years ago. That was why he didn't recognize her at the bar. Lucius was never in short supply of stunning women after his divorce—he was exceptionally good-looking and was very, very good at his job, which made him both obscenely rich and thus predictably attractive. It never bothered him that he hadn't been in a relationship in over three years, that the women were transient and transactional. One night, that was all he ever gave any of them—whether they were young, old, single, divorced, married, complicated, or dead easy. One night, one afternoon, one fling, one go. And then he'd never made contact with them again. Even the tenacious stalker types. Especially those.
It was a rule he had made for himself after his split with Cissa. And some rules were made to never be broken.
But then she had turned up beside him, and she had taken his breath away. That hair, that wild, chestnut hair, and the way it had tumbled down her back like thick, velvet. How it had looked, splayed over his pillow when she finally opened herself for him. How it moved against the silk when he pounded into her finally when his steely self-control snapped like thin glass.
It had taken all he had not to come the moment he slid into her, sheathing himself in her to the hilt. That had been bloody glorious. That, and the way her hands had gripped his bare arse like a possessive vice, commanding him to move. She had cracked a joke then, and he had laughed, which only added to that frisson, that delirium of his arousal. How the hell he'd managed to last as long as he did, he'll never know. But thank the gods he'd held on long enough to hear that sweet, sweet moan rise from deep within that magnificent, tight body. When she came, he had felt such triumph, he remembered. The moment she started contracting around him, he had emptied himself into her, his rhythm wild and erratic by then, his mind blown white. It was one of the best orgasms he'd had in the longest time.
And that thought made him froze, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
It had been a week since but it was only now that Lucius remembered that he came inside her and he hadn't remembered to use protection before and after. How reckless of him.
He could only hope that she was on the potion or he'll find himself on the deathly end of a lot of people's wands. The war may over for years now but people still see her as the golden girl that helped saved the magical world while they saw him as the last-minute defected Death Eater.
Still, the thought of her pregnant, her stomach round with his child made him fully, achingly hard. Bloody hell. He did appreciate proof of his virility especially since she was twenty years his junior and the fact that pregnant women were more sensitive and, not to mention, quite horny all the time didn't help ease his arousal. Her being a Muggleborn should've deterred him from pursuing it any longer more so giving it much thought but somehow, his lust for her overrode any common sense he had left.
The answer seemed obvious in itself, of course: he needed to remove her. He could ill afford the diversion in these crucial months especially with the company finally expanding and Draco still learning the ropes, and to take it any further would be impractical to the extreme. They came from different worlds and different beliefs, and even though Lucius was above the law he helped created in the first place, he still stood by the beliefs he grew up in—not that he would reveal that to the new world. It would be injudicious in the extreme for him to pursue any formal courtship, particularly for a dalliance that couldn't possibly last.
Just bed her and get it over with!
And if you should want more?
Put in controls. Set an expiration date. Have an exit strategy.
And if you should still want more? If it should go beyond this?
There can be no beyond. It would be ludicrous, ludicrous, to put into words any sort of attachment after this. It was a twenty-year age gap, for Merlin's sake.
And yet.
Twenty minutes later, he was finally fully dressed for the day and was out the door, apparating to the one person he knew who would either help him purge this ridiculous obsession or encourage it further. Against his better judgement, against his notoriously private nature, and his overdeveloped sense of self-preservation, Lucius turned to his now reclusive friend for advice.
He knew there was a reason why he made all that effort to save Severus's ungrateful arse back in the Shrieking Shack when Voldemort's pet snake tried to kill him under the misguided information that the elder wand's allegiance was to him.
It was time to collect on an old debt.
AN: A bit shorter than the previous chapter and no smut but that will change in the future chapters. Also, no unplanned pregnancy... yet. *wink*