Chapter One ~ Muggle Music
Lucius Malfoy cast a disdainful eye over the crowded room. The annual Ministry of Magic Summer Ball was one of the highlights of the wizarding world social calendar. Anyone who was anyone was here, and a few that weren't mused the scornful pureblood wizard. Rich coming from a man who had only just found his way back onto the social ladder.
Despite his aristocratic lineage, his stay in Azkaban, being a former Death Eater and follower of the Dark Lord, had done little for his social standing. It had taken him a long time to get back into the wizarding world's good graces, and even now he still felt a little uncomfortable at these gatherings. He was here at Draco's behest, who fortunately had not been held accountable for the sins of his father, and was himself doing very well at the Ministry.
Tradition decreed the ball be organised by the most recently appointed head of a department. This year that had fallen to not only the newest appointee but also the youngest person ever to achieve such status.
Thus for the last half an hour or so Lucius Malfoy had been subjected to "Muggle music" curtesy of the new Head of Muggle Liaison's. Clearly the latest incumbent of the office deemed it necessary to theme the evening around the position. However, from the amount of people filling the dance floor, it appeared that he was the only one who had any issue with the music, Swing he thought he heard someone refer to it as.
A rather large collection of musicians playing various instruments, were fronted by a lone man singing. The most irritating thing about the music or rather the songs were they seemed to be echoing Lucius Malfoy's thoughts. His slate grey eyes once more falling upon the ball organiser, and Head of Muggle Liaison's, Miss Hermione Granger.
"I will feel a glow just thinking of you. And the way you look tonight," crooned the singer.
Lucius shifted uncomfortably, his body more than a little a glow thinking about the way Miss Granger looked tonight. Loathe as he was to admit it, he could quite easily overlook her Mudblood status. She looked beautiful and incredibly sexy. The emerald green dress she wore accentuating her curves to perfection, her wild mass of hair tamed into a rather elegant chignon and caught loosely at her nape with a bejewelled barrette.
His, what could only be described as lustful, gaze had wandered in her direction on more than one occasion in the short time he had been here. Finding himself inexplicably drawn as she moved effortlessly around the room. Shaking hands with people, laughing, exchanging a hug here, a brief kiss on the cheek there. She paused in her circulation of the room to chat to Draco. A delicate hand casually resting on his son's arm, the other grasping the thin stem of a champagne flute. Lucius felt a pang of jealousy suffuse his veins before once again she was gone from his view.
Hermione was looking over the balcony on the mezzanine floor of one of Wizard London's best hotels. Checking that everything was as it was meant to be, that everyone was being looked after, she spotted a frighteningly familiar mane of elegantly tethered blonde hair.
Of course she knew Lucius Malfoy had been invited, as the organiser she had overseen the final guest list, but like Draco, was certain he wouldn't attend.
She hadn't seen him in almost four years, but she had to admit he looked devastatingly attractive and as supremely arrogant as always. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and her heart began to pound erratically in her chest. A baffling combination of hatred and something else that was difficult to fathom.
After that awful night at Malfoy Manor, Hermione Granger had never wanted to see its Master again. She had made her peace with Draco, they worked together, and they were friends. But the senior Malfoy was a different story entirely. Even after all this time, the memory caused her stomach to churn and her temper to rise. Unsure if she would be able to control it, she decided to get away before their paths inevitably crossed.
Hermione lifted her floor length dress, to facilitate the descent of the sweeping staircase. Any exit would require a walk across the main ballroom, and through Lucius Malfoy's line of vision, drawing his attention, not that he would be inclined to take the slightest bit of notice of her, she mused, oddly irritated by the notion.
Weaving her way through the guests who filled the dance floor, she determinedly kept her chin up and her gaze straight ahead. Reaching the bar, a passing waiter asked if he could get her anything, she was about to say no, but Hermione needed something to calm her down, realistically she couldn't leave, no matter how much she wanted to. She knew at some point she would have to face Lucius Malfoy she just hadn't envisaged it would be tonight. If she was clever it wouldn't have to be. It was large hotel, even he could be easily avoided.
The ice chinked as she swished the golden liquid around the heavy crystal tumbler, burning her throat as she swallowed a large mouthful, shuddering she closed her eyes, Firewhiskey was not her drink, she should have stuck to the champagne.
"I thought, Miss Grainger you were avoiding me."
Hermione's heart sank and then flip flopped in her chest. There was no mistaking the distinctive, aristocratic timbre of his voice. Languid and a little menacing behind her and much too close for comfort.
Downing the remainder of the Firewhiskey, she placed the glass on the bar, and taking a deep steady breath Hermione Grainger turned to face Lucius Malfoy.
"And good evening to you to Mr Malfoy," she responded, pinning an overly bright smile to her face.
"Why would you think such a thing? I am your host, I wouldn't dream of avoiding any of the guests, even you."
Her voice positively dripped sarcasm and she bit into her lower lip, desperate to avoid saying anything she might regret. This was neither the time nor the place to have a confrontational conversation with Lucius Malfoy. Hermione made to move past him. Her honey brown eyes glistening brightly in irritation, dropped involuntarily to his beautifully sensual mouth. The rather foolish observation coupled with his mocking smile caused her irritation to gather momentum, bubbling on the cusp of anger.
Whatever Hermione Granger might think about Lucius Malfoy, there was no denying he was a devastatingly handsome man, who exuded more than just arrogance.
Close up she looked even more stunning, Lucius observed. His grey eyes taking in every inch of her shapely form. The dress she wore, whilst relatively demure from the front, had a very low back, dipping almost the base of her spine. Revealing an exquisite expanse of lightly tanned and beautifully smooth skin. Her face also bore a light tan, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled defiantly. His own gaze fell to her slightly parted mouth, painted a delicate shade of pink, his cock twitched at an unbridled thought which drifted across his mind. As her tongue moistened her lips, it throbbed mercilessly.
Lucius Malfoy wanted Hermione Granger before this night was out.
"Don't you know you fool, you never can win, use your mentality, wake up to reality."
Oh how apt this Muggle music was thought Lucius.
"That being the case Miss Grainger perhaps you do me the honour of a dancing with me,"
Lucius practically purred at her. His hushed aristocratic tones, caressing her ears.
He was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.
His confidence and arrogance knew no bounds. The last thing her head wanted to do was dance with him, but her mutinous body seemed to be travelling down a very different path. Her mind was appalled at the thought of being in such close proximity of Lucius Malfoy. Her body on the other hand appeared to be relishing the prospect. The idea of being held in Lucius Malfoy's strong arms, his elegant hand resting on her bare back, made her senses reel. The Firewhiskey was obviously effecting her better judgement. Before she could utter another syllable, his hand firmly gripped her elbow, steering her back to the ballroom.
"Let go of me!" The words hissed between her teeth. She tried to struggle without making a scene.
Completely ignoring her protests Lucius tightened his grip, his long fingers biting painfully into the soft flesh of her upper arm, smiling disarmingly, he led her onto the dance floor. Taking her in his arms.
The music changed once more and Hermione felt his surprisingly soft hand on her bare back, her skin ignited to his cool touch and a strange exhilaration coursed through her body.
"I think your fingers in my hair would strip my conscience bare Miss Grainger, and it would have nothing to do with witchcraft." His voice a low, sexy rasp against her ear.
Hermione tried to block out the words of the song that filled the air. The dance floor was quite crowded but it was the presence of this man she found stifling not their fellow dancers, she felt a bead of sweat form between her breasts.
Her senses were being overwhelmed. His feather light touch on her ridiculously sensitised skin. The heady spicy scent of his cologne invading her nostrils. His low husky voice taunting her. His velvety tones washing over her like some intoxicating drug.
"You are certainly arousing the need in me."
He pulled her closer, obliterating every last bit of space between them. Hermione was powerless to resist the sublimely seductive movement, which he executed to perfection, as if he had rehearsed it a thousand times.
Almost immediately she felt him grow hard against her thigh. A gasp escaped her lips. So many emotions were fighting for control of her body. Fear and anger seemed to be lagging a long way behind pleasure at that moment. The way his body reacted to her sent a preposterous wave of delight washing over her. That she a mere Muggleborn could have such an effect on the purist of pureblood wizards was quite an empowering thought.
She should pull away, one glass of Firewhiskey had clearly scrambled her brain to mush, rational thought being commandeered by sheer unadulterated sensation. Instead of pulling away, Hermione closed her eyes and pressed harder against him, revelling in the delightful feel of an aroused man against her, even if that man was Lucius Malfoy. What was she thinking! Their bodies flush as they swayed and moved together to the music. Her nipples strained against the silky material of her dress, abrading the hard wall of his chest, the buds tight with arousal. Even the feel of his heavy dress robes beneath her hands was an erotic awareness that defied belief. His warm hand resting lightly on her bare flesh, just above the base of her spine was beyond logical description.
Her traitorous body seemed to be controlling her clearly addled mind. Despite everything that had happened between them Hermione wanted him to slip the thin straps from her shoulders, allow the dress to fall to the floor and to feel his teeth nip sharply at her exposed and pert nipples. She wanted to know how it would feel to have his skilled masculine fingers caress her intimately. The path her thoughts were taking both shocked and thrilled her, the element of danger heightening her arousal. What was this devil of a man doing to her common sense?
"Let's get out of here" He suggested huskily in her ear, his breath hot and sensual against her skin.
She could have been utterly carried away by the moment, the elegant surroundings, the wistful emotive music, the handsome but supremely arrogant dark wizard whose arms she was in. Oh yes it would have been all too easy. Hermione quickly came to her senses, reigning in her wayward thoughts. Remembering exactly who she was dancing with, whose arms she was encircled in and whose highly aroused body she was pinned against.
"No," she said firmly "I was about to leave and that is exactly what I am going to do."
"You cannot leave me like this!" He growled, brushing against her, his erection still very much in evidence. The look on his face dared her to defy him as his grip tightened.
Her anger began to rise once more, the unbelievable effrontery of the man. Lucius Malfoy got The Order of Merlin for his audacity. Hermione was however beginning to realise the line between anger and desire was very thin. In fact one was most definitely fuelling the other.
The floor was crowded but she found herself not caring. Fighting an overwhelming desire to slap that handsome, egotistical face or even get her wand out and do something much worse.
Lucius Malfoy had always been self-opinionated enough to think his pureblood status gave him the right to do and say just what he wanted. Especially with someone like her, a Mudblood. How dare he think he could treat her in this cheap, cavalier fashion! But that line she'd thought about previously, was now paper thin. Whilst one hand wanted to lash out and smack his pale aristocratic cheek the other wanted to reach out and touch the hardened flesh that rested against her thigh. Even his heavy dress robes did little or nothing to conceal its power and size.
Their eyes met, warm honey brown clashing with cold hard grey. The electricity positively crackled around them.
Anger burned in the young witch, but desire blazed much hotter, suddenly imagining touching him, right here on the dance floor. The notion exciting her beyond all reason. Heat pooling between her legs.
What had happened to the level headed Hermione Grainger? Perhaps someone was controlling her mind. Even if that were the case, she seemed to have little restraint over her own body. Her thoughts wandering to how his aroused silky skin would feel to the touch. Perhaps slipping her fingers beneath his robes as they moved around the floor.
This wasn't happening. Hermione had to get away from him, but his grip was vicelike, and magic wasn't a realistic option. Suddenly she smiled to herself, she was such a fool. She had the perfect weapon at her disposal.
Holding him closer, Hermione willed her body to relax and moved seductively against him, not exactly a hardship per se. The action dragging her once more under the very non-magical spell of Lucius Malfoy. Concentrating hard, she allowed her breath to softly caress his ear. Hermione felt him loosen his hold. It was all she needed to make her escape.
At that moment another couple bumped into them, allowing Hermione to break free from his grasp and she strode purposefully across the floor. This time she didn't stop, not until she reached the sanctity of the room she had taken in the hotel. Her heart raced in her chest and her legs threatened to buckle under her, but as the door clicked shut behind her, she afforded herself a self-satisfied smile. The look of utter shock and disbelief on Lucius Malfoy beautifully chiselled face deliciously etched on her brain.