CHAPTER 7

My flat had suddenly become smaller. Something like a shoebox, or maybe a matchbox. The walls seemed to take up all the space and I wanted to reach out and shove them further apart. I'd been pacing nervously for the last hour, working myself into a ridiculous state of anxiety, and I still had forty minutes before I was due to meet her.

It had been almost thirty years since I'd asked a woman out. And I wasn't sure what she was expecting; times had definitely changed. And already I knew she was experienced in a way I hadn't been at her age.

In the hours since I'd seen her, I'd been second guessing myself — second guessing everything. Why would she want to be with me? What did she even see in me? Why did she even want to be my friend? I was twice her age, had very limited experience with women, and knew, without a doubt, I wouldn't be capable of making her scream in the manner Charlie had. She would be disappointed and tire of me quickly, and she'd return to him without a backwards glance..

The thought left a hollow feeling in my chest.

Asking Narcissa to dinner all those years ago had been simple. We'd been in similar social circles and I'd been watching her for a while before summoning the courage to ask her out. There'd been no real expectations; dinner, polite conversation, and a chaste kiss good night. I hadn't thought she wanted much more past that. Not in the beginning in any case. She appeared happy to just be with me, and everyone around us, friends and family, all approved. And while I was completely besotted with her, I knew now there had been no spark. And if I was being honest, there never had been.

Life with Narcissa had been fun at first. The typical new love stuff; romance and sweetness and moon-eyes. It was wonderful, and I was completely devoted. And I guess that was my downfall. I thought she was perfect — beyond perfect — and I could only see what I now knew was just an act. My loyalty and blindness were perfect for her to exploit. I'd heard whispers about a year after Draco was born, whispers that alluded to the fact she'd been seen with another man. But I ignored them. In my heart I couldn't— wouldn't — believe the rumours. So much so, I didn't even confront her over them. I trusted her. And, since the rumours died away, I assumed they were just that: rumours.

Hindsight told me she simply became more discreet. Even more so, it showed me the spark I felt whenever I saw Hermione had never existed with my ex-wife. As much as I loved her, not once did I feel her absence while I was on assignment all over the world. Hermione lived right next door, but the second she left my flat, I wished she would come back. Despite my misgivings, I did want to spend my days with her. And she had admitted the same

My nerves settled at that thought.

I want more than just an arrangement with you.

That's what she had said. And while my trust was damaged, I believed her sincerity. Her arrangement with Charlie had been convenient, and her assurances of not seeing anyone else while she was in that arrangement gave me even more reason to take her word as truth. Plus, she'd not once given me any reason to not believe her. She was open and blunt; no subject was off limits, so I seriously doubted she would play me.

You were played before.

The niggling voice forced its way into my slowly calming thoughts.

I stopped pacing and stared at my reflection in the window. I was being ridiculous. It was okay to be nervous, but pacing like a fool? No, it was completely unnecessary. She had admitted her feelings, had met my family, and had agreed to dinner. Pacing and anxiety were just an overreaction to my trust issues.

And maybe Katie was right. Hermione's only expectations were of me being myself. We were already friends, we were already comfortable with each other; this wasn't anything different from her eating dinner on my sofa.

But…

What about after dinner? When we arrived home would she expect more? This was only our first official date, but we had been eating together for weeks. So, would she think it appropriate for more to happen? Would she invite me into her flat at the end of the evening? I wasn't sure I was ready for that.

I did want to be with her in a more intimate manner, but my sense of propriety was far too ingrained into me to change so quickly. I didn't need to be married to her for that intimacy to occur, but I did need to spend time with her in a closer relationship before I would consider it.

My nerves kicked up again. I hoped she would understand my need to take things slowly and not think me an archaic fool.

A knock at my door startled me from my musings, and I cursed when I glanced at the clock. Seven-fifteen. I told her I would be at her door at seven but with my rambling mind, I'd lost track of time.

Grabbing my keys from the kitchen counter, I headed for the door, hoping I could usher whoever it was away quickly.

But when I opened the door, I stopped in my tracks.

"Hi." She greeted me with the same warm smile she always did. "Did you get lost?"

"No," I laughed. "I lost track of time."

"I assumed you were doing your hair."

I laughed again. "No, just lost in my thoughts."

"Lost in second thoughts?"

"Absolutely not," I assured her. "It's a writer's habit, overthinking everything."

She nodded and then her eyes dipped to look at my lips. "So, you were thinking about me…?"

"No, about the new chapter I have just written," I teased, then smirked when her eyes lifted back to mine, wide in surprise.

"You've started writing again?"

"Yes, but my thoughts were actually of you."

She poked my chest. "So you are having second thoughts."

I stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door closed, locking it behind me.

"No," I said again. "Second thoughts are definitely not what they were. Nervous thoughts would be more apt."

She moved closer to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. "Why are you nervous?"

"It's been quite some time since I've had a first date."

She stretched up and kissed me. "You have nothing to worry about, Lucius. I'll be on my best behaviour. I'll use a knife and fork, and I'll use my manners and everything."

I held her face in my hands and smiled; with one sentence, she managed to ease my nerves and make me realise I'd been worried for nothing.

"You're completely mad, do you know that?"

"Ooh, this looks gorgeous," Hermione commented as I held the door open for her. "I've never been here."

The Gallery was one of my favourite restaurants. It was old-school. Warm and cozy, with wood paneling on the walls and a giant fireplace in the centre. A large bar ran the length of one wall and had an extensive range of wines and beer. They served simple food — the kind you might make yourself — and the atmosphere was welcoming and easy.

"It's not as well-known as some other places," I explained. "But it's one of my favourites."

"And you thought you'd share it with me?" She looped her arm through mine and leaned against my side. "Thank you."

"It bodes well for me that such a small gesture makes you happy."

"This isn't just a small gesture. You know this place and wanted to share it with me. I appreciate that."

"I thought it might have been nicer than some of those more pretentious, trendy places."

"Absolutely," she said with a laugh. "I steer clear of those myself."

"Ah, so you're a little old-fashioned as well?"

"Maybe a little," she said as we were led to our table. "But not as much as you."

I winked at her as I held her chair and waited until she was seated before I sat opposite her.

"Can I get you both a drink?" the waiter asked.

"I probably shouldn't," Hermione replied with a wink. "I have a class in the morning. But don't let me stop you."

"I'll have an old-fashioned," I said with a straight face, causing her to laugh as she asked for sparkling water.

"Old-fashioned, huh?"

"It pairs well with steak."

"You already know what you're having?"

"Like I said, this place is a favourite."

She looked thoughtfully at me for a moment, then smiled. "You like routine as much as I do."

"I suppose I do," I agreed, not truly realising that I had developed some set routines of my own.

The waiter returned with our drinks and asked for our food orders. Hermione quickly scanned the menu while I ordered, before she asked him what he suggested if she wanted something light.

"We have spiced salmon with a quinoa salad," he suggested and she nodded, telling him that would be perfect. As he moved away, the last person I wanted to see caught my eye.

"Shit," I muttered and shook my head. "I'm sorry, but my ex-wife is approaching us."

Hermione glanced over to where Narcissa was walking towards us, and my anger quickly turned to amusement at the expression on her face. She was looking Narcissa up and down, her eyebrow arched, her mouth tilted into a half smirk. I hated to think what she was preparing to say.

"Lucius," Narcissa said in a low voice which I was sure she thought seductive, but it only served to make me cringe. "How lovely to finally see you out. And who's this?"

"This is Hermione," Hermione said coolly and looked her up and down again. "I'm assuming you're the cheating whore ex-wife?"

Narcissa's smug expression faltered when Hermione smiled at me, and I had a fleeting thought that I should have deliberately found Narcissa and introduced them sooner. The expression on her face at Hermione's question was priceless.

"Was there something you needed, Narcissa?" I asked, taking my cue from Hermione. "Or did you just come over here to check out my date?"

"Date?" She tried to sound unaffected, but failed; her voice pitched higher, a clear sign she was shocked. But it was only for a split second, and then the bitch came out. "Oh, I don't care who you're dating. I mean, we've all tried something younger and less refined, haven't we?"

A woman and a young girl I assumed was her daughter stopped beside Hermione.

"Pardon me, I'm sorry to intrude, but are you Hermione Granger?"

Hermione answered in the affirmative and the mother smiled at her daughter. "Bridget is a huge fan of yours and wondered if she could have a picture with you?"

Hermione smiled at the young girl. "Of course, sweetheart. How old are you?"

"Ten," Bridget said, her shoulders curling in embarrassment that Hermione had spoken to her. She was clearly a huge fan, the star-struck expression said it all.

"Ten," Hermione repeated with a nod. "Are you a dancer as well?"

The girl nodded. "I've been doing ballet since I was three."

"Wow." Hermione's eyes went wide and the little girl looked delighted. "You'll be taking my job any day now."

Bridget giggled and her star-struck expression changed to one of complete adoration.

While the mother took some photos and Hermione chatted to them both, I glanced up at Narcissa, who was watching in disbelief.

"Hermione Granger," I said quietly. "Principal dancer at the Royal Ballet. Look her up. I think you'll find her in the dictionary under refined."

Narcissa glared at me and I simply smiled back at her. She turned and walked away, her spine straight, her nose in the air trying to save face. But I could see the smirks from some nearby diners who recognised what just happened.

I turned my attention back to Hermione, who was fishing her phone from her purse and taking details from the mother.

"Are you sure?" the mother was saying.

"Of course," Hermione told her. "Call the company through the week and we'll arrange for me to come and visit with Bridget's class. And if Bridget would like to come to see us rehearse, we can arrange that as well."

"Thank you," the mother said and Bridget looked like she might faint.

And I was struck again at just how incredible this woman was. She spoke to the mother like they were old friends, spoke to the little girl like she was the most important person in the room. She wasn't movie star famous, and I was sure most of the other diners had no idea who she was, but to this young girl, Hermione was the world.

The mother then turned to me and apologised for interrupting, but I waved it away. She wasn't even aware of what she had just done — making a fool of my ex-wife. I couldn't appreciate this woman anymore.

"It's perfectly fine," I told her. "I'm a little jealous of your daughter though; I've not been invited to watch a rehearsal yet."

I winked at the young girl and she giggled. Hermione hugged her and the expression on Bridget's face as she walked away was one that I was sure meant she would talk about this non-stop for days.

"Does that happen often?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not really. I'm not in the movies or on TV, I dance on stage so I'm not really known outside ballet circles. And when it does happen, it's rarely kids. What about you?"

I shook my head. "Pretty much the same. I mean, you lived next door to me for months and didn't know who I was."

"This is true," she laughed. "And what about her? Will she try to contact you again?"

"She wasn't supposed to come near me this time," I said. "I made it a part of our settlement. Draco's an adult, so we have no need to discuss anything about him, and since I had no desire to ever see her again, I used her cheating as a way to stipulate she wasn't to contact me ever again."

"A restraining order?"

"Of sorts." I paused when our food arrived, ordering more drinks and thanking the waiter. "I've no interest in anything concerning her, so it was just a way to ensure she keeps her distance. Clearly she has other ideas as to what that means."

"Will being here with me cause any issues for you?"

"Absolutely not," I assured her. "Narcissa's reputation in her society circles has taken a rather large hit. Her indiscretions were frowned upon by everyone. And despite the fact she managed to manipulate me for years, she knows I will take her down a few more rungs if she tries to discredit me further."

"How hard did she make things for you?"

"Oh, she tried. But the subpoena on the man I caught her with, and several others, put an end to her games. She didn't come out of our divorce looking like the poor, unfortunate housewife she was trying for. Instead, she was treated like the cheating whore she is."

Hermione snorted a laugh. "I don't think I've ever heard you refer to her like that. It's refreshing to hear you say it."

"I've tried to remain neutral. I've been angry, but I've kept my true opinion of her to myself, especially with Draco. But…" I glanced towards the back of the restaurant where Narcissa was sitting with a group of people I didn't recognise. "It felt good to name her as such."

"You never have to hold back with me," Hermione said, not seeming to be bothered that my ex-wife was sitting just metres away. "Feel free to vent all your anger."

"While I appreciate that, I'd rather simply forget she exists."

"You have a son with her, is it that simple though?"

"It has been." I shrugged. "Draco is more bitter and resentful than I am. He has high expectations when it comes to family and loyalty, so his mother's actions have not been met with any pleasantries from him. In fact, I don't think he's spoken to her in months."

"Wow, he is pissed off."

"We don't discuss her. It's easier that way. Plus, she can't hold any blame over me for how Draco chooses to react to her." I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry she's here."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't care. I hope she's watching us. And I hope she's pissed off."

"I never knew you had a vindictive side. I thought you were sweet and demure."

She laughed. "You don't honestly believe that?"

"You have many very sweet and endearing qualities," I replied. "And, after seeing how you handled Narcissa, I'd rather not see your more antagonistic ones."

"I'm only antagonistic when needed."

"Well, you definitely gave her something to think about."

"Did you come here with her?"

"Why?" I was startled by her question.

"I just mean, is it a coincidence that she's here? Or could she be trying to follow you, or something?"

"No, on both accounts. And while this is one of my favourite places, I am surprised she's here. She likes to be seen, despite her ruined reputation, and since she's so shallow, she likes to be seen in the most popular places. Perhaps one of the gentlemen at her table has money."

"She's that shallow?"

"She is."

"Tell me about Draco."

"Draco?"

"Yeah." She tilted her head to one side, a lopsided smile on her face. "We probably shouldn't spend the evening talking about your ex-wife."

"This is true," I agreed. "What would you like to know about my son?"

"I don't know." She chewed a bite of salmon, her eyes thoughtful. "How long have he and Katie been together?"

"They met when they were sixteen, but she was quite resistant to him at first."

"He wore her down?"

"When you know her better, you'll realise no one wears Katie Bell down."

"Bell? They're not married?"

"They are, she kept her name." It was my turn to be thoughtful. "You think she should have taken his name?"

"No, I was just thinking you're so old-fashioned, I assumed you would have insisted."

"I wouldn't have dared. But my old-fashioned values were certainly tested by my son."

"How so?"

"Scorpius is two and a half. They've been married for just a year." I watched as she registered what I said and grinned.

"Oh, how did your poor old heart take that?"

"Surprisingly well," I said. "And you've met my grandson. How could I possibly be mad?"

"Maybe you're not so old-fashioned," she replied with a wink.

"As you know, I did rebel somewhat in my younger days, but some of those old-fashioned values did stick with me. I am learning life isn't always so black and white, and that being flexible in one's views is more important than being rigid and unforgiving."

"Well, if it's flexible you want…"

"Yes, Ms Granger, I'm well aware of your flexibility."

The image of those flexible legs wrapped around my hips caused me to shift in my seat. Hermione was watching me with a knowing smile.

"I guess I was right."

"About…?"

"My leg over my shoulder did make you horny."

"Perhaps it did," I said with a laugh. "I was rather impressed with just how flexible you are."

"Years of training," she explained. "Give me some time and I'll have your feet over your shoulders."

"Oh, I seriously doubt that. My flexibility is still in its learning stages."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You're more open to more new things than you realise. I mean, you let me into your life."

"I wasn't really given a choice, what with the wall thumping and all."

"Ha, ha," she replied dryly.

"And what about you?" I asked. "Tell me about how it is you live next door to me."

"Tell me about how rich I am, you mean?"

"No, I don't mean it in that sense. Your wealth doesn't interest me. But I do know the value of my flat, so I can only assume yours is the same."

"I guess it is surprising I own such a place at my age," she agreed. "Both my parents were orthodontists, so you can assume what you like there in regards to their wealth. At the time of their accident, they had invested well and owned several properties here and in France and Spain. And since I was their only child, I inherited everything. Plus, my job pays me rather well. And — this might surprise you — I've only lived in that flat for just over a year."

"So, this is some kind of kismet?"

"Possibly. Is that something you believe in?"

I thought for a moment. Did I believe in fate? Did I believe that fate brought me to this moment?

"I didn't think I did. But, now… maybe I do."

"That's very flexible of you."

"Yes, I suppose it is." I regarded her for a moment. "What about you? Do you believe in fate?"

"I didn't, but when I moved into my flat, Mrs Trelawney knocked on my door and gave me a teacup, and told me I would meet an older, blond man who would be my artistic equal. I didn't believe her, of course. I've always thought divination and seers and psychics were a total crock of shit. But, maybe all her chanting and naked moonlight dancing isn't as mad as I originally thought. You're blond, and a man, and writing is an art form. Fate may have played its hand here."

"I imagine very few of Mrs Trelawney's predictions are accurate." I lifted my glass and tilted it towards her, "However, I am infinitely pleased that she got it right this one time."

She clinked her glass against mine. "So am I."

"Did you want to come in?" The confidence I usually saw wavered slightly as she asked me and I smiled. My earlier nerves seemed to have jumped bodies.

Dinner had been wonderful, more so than usual. The 'proper' meal we'd had — dressed up, sitting opposite each other — had been insightful and entertaining. She had been her mad self, and I'd felt my anxieties over her melt away.

But a few of my archaic values were still ingrained in me.

"No, not tonight," I replied. "I'm going to do this properly."

"Properly? Explain that to me please."

"I am going to say goodnight right here, and you, Ms Granger, are going to go inside your flat and lock your door. I will then return to my flat—"

"Down the hallway."

"Yes, my flat down the hallway, where I will sleep alone with thoughts only of you." I lifted her hands to my lips. "And I will call you when I wake to say good morning."

"You could just thump the wall," she suggested with a playful shrug.

"Ah, yes, the ever romantic wall-thumping good morning." I rolled my eyes.

"Lucius," she began and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around my waist. "We practically sleep together every night. It's just a solid wall between us"

"Yes, that's practically sleeping together," I laughed. "Hermione, will you please allow me this?"

She sighed and her eyes roamed my face. "You're old-fashioned, I get it. You want to woo me in some chivalrous way."

I smirked and shoved her back against the door. She inhaled sharply when I pressed my hips into hers and ducked my head to whisper in her ear.

"I am very old-fashioned, Ms Granger," I murmured. "I believe in having the deepest of respect for a woman. She deserves to be worshipped and adored, and made love to for hours in a way that never lets her forget she is more than just a plaything for men to enjoy." I brushed my lips lightly across her cheek. "And you are most definitely not a plaything, my darling."

I eased back from her; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glazed. I felt cruel leaving her in such a state, and I wanted her more than I could explain, but I held my resolve.

"Are you sure—" she swallowed thickly "—you don't want to come in?"

"I am," I managed, but leaned in close to her ear again. "Be sure to call my name when you come at your own hand."

I stepped back, straightening my jacket and nodded towards the door. "Goodnight, Hermione."

She nodded and fumbled for her keys. After several attempts, she unlocked the door and stepped inside her flat, then turned to glance at me with a desperation that almost brought me to my knees.

"I look forward to seeing you again, Lucius."

"I'll speak to you in the morning. Sleep well, and pleasant dreams."

She closed the door and I let out a shaky breath when I heard the lock click .The shard of willpower left in me breathed a sigh of relief. I was rock hard and had she not closed her door in that second, she would have been laid out on the hallway floor.

I turned and walked down the hall, wincing at the tightness of my trousers; I needed to get them off and relieve the ache. My ridiculous need to be a gentleman was going to kill me.