Thank you all for your comments and support! First ever Fanfic, so bear with me while I figure all this out, haha. Aspiring author just letting off some steam and playing with someone else's characters for a change, so I doubt this will be a masterpiece, but we'll see where it goes! Hope you like this next chapter and that it doesn't feel too ridiculous. Also shoutout to obsessmuch and her story of "Eden," since it's really what inspired me to write my own fic, though nowhere near as involved or complex. Anyway, enjoy!

PS: It might be another week or two before the next chapter comes out – I just had most of these pieces already finished, so again, bear with me!

Chapter 2

The large front doors swung open with a wave of Lucius's wand, and the pair were inside. Hermione had consciously avoided looking around much as they approached. It was dark anyway, and she didn't want anything to cause unwanted flashbacks to the last time she had paid the Manor a visit.

Standing in the entryway, Hermione's eyes finally began to adjust to the dim light, and Lucius Malfoy's back came fully into focus.

He was currently in the process of removing a black traveling cloak, then barking a command and throwing it into the waiting arms of the house elf who appeared. The elf saw that Lucius had company and looked at Hermione before letting out what she perceived to be a flustered squeak and vanishing again.

Clearly not many people had been entering the Malfoy household anymore. Or at least, not through the front door. Hermione shivered.

As Hermione's eyes continued to adjust, she saw Lucius's trademarked long blonde hair, still perfectly dry despite the rain. Feeling stupid, Hermione realized he must have cast the spells she should have thought of before running through London in the middle of a rainstorm.

Even from the back, his silhouette was imposing.

As he turned to face her, Hermione's eyes swept from the snake-head cane always clutched in his hand up his long arm, the expensive broach at his throat, and finally came to rest on his face. Those same slanting features, thin lips, cold grey eyes…

An involuntary chill ran through her veins as she studied him, remembering their encounters during the Battle of Hogwarts, Department of Mysteries, Quidditch World Cup, Flourish and Blotts…

"You may put your wand away now, Miss Granger. I promise I am not going to harm you."

"I've heard that before," Hermione spat before she could stop herself.

Lucius's cold eyes flashed before he snapped, "Oh for God's sake, why would I bring you here to harm you if I could have done so when you were an unsuspecting bundle of wet robes outside the Manor?"

"So that no one would hear me scream," she responded without missing a beat.

A smile actually twitched at the corner of Lucius's mouth. "How very Muggle of you, Miss Granger. If I wanted that, I could have just cast Muffliato beforehand and no one would have been the wiser."

Hermione looked appalled, and Lucius actually chuckled slightly at this. "Again, my offer still stands, Miss Granger. Are you coming? Or would you rather continue to drip on the welcome mat?"

Hermione had to stop herself from actually looking down to see if there was such a thing in Malfoy Manor, but of course there wasn't. Shaking her head, she followed him down the hall and finally through a door that led to the drawing room. She did put her wand back in her pocket, but her hand remained near it just in case.

Lucius was a Malfoy through and through, and they were opportunists at their core. She knew that Lucius saw an opportunity in her, and she vowed to tread cautiously until she knew what it was.

In the meantime, she would take shelter and hospitality wherever she could find it, even if it was at the hands of a Malfoy.

There was already a fire burning in the hearth of the drawing room, and Hermione gladly ran up to it, extending her frozen hands and sighing as the fire began to warm her body. Lucius calmly approached the table in the corner and poured himself a glass of what must have been firewhiskey.

As the feeling began to return to Hermione's extremities, so did her senses, and she felt Lucius's eyes on her back, making her hair stand on end. He waited in silence, almost studying her, but for what purpose she did not know. Hermione fixed her eyes on the flames, thinking of what to say. But what could she say to Voldemort's former second-in-command, the man who attempted to murder her and her friends, the owner of the house where she was tortured unceasingly…

"Thank you," she finally said, turning from the fire to face him and trying to take the high ground. He had settled into the Chesterfield across from the fireplace, delicately sipping from his glass. In spite of his hospitable gestures, he had not offered her a drink.

Of course he didn't, Hermione thought. He probably still sees me as a Hogwarts student…

In the light of the fire, Hermione could finally see him clearly now. He wore tailored black trousers, a white buttoned shirt covered by a black velvet vest and a serpent pin at the neck, and a black cloak thrown over the ensemble. He looked so well-put together but also like he wasn't even trying.

How could a man so horrid still look so magnificent? It seemed that neither age nor prison nor complete and utter disgrace could undo the proper breeding of a Malfoy.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, and Hermione felt her face flush. She hadn't realized she'd been eyeing him, and she quickly tore her gaze away.

Lucius took another sip of his whiskey in order to hide the smile playing at the corners of his mouth before composing himself and beginning to speak.

"Forgive me if I am overstepping my boundaries, Miss Granger, but you still didn't answer my previous question as to exactly why you were huddled in a pathetic heap at my doorstep. Out of respect for my hospitality, indulge my curiosity."

"In case you've forgotten, Mr. Malfoy, I've experienced your hospitality once before at the hands of your beloved sister-in-law…"

Lucius's eyes flashed dangerously, and Hermione stopped herself. In the light of the fire it was easy to see warmth that wasn't there. She almost let herself forget who he once was, who he is, and she decided it was best not to remind him of the fun his pureblood friends had once had at her expense.

"I could have just as easily left you to your fate."

"You did on that night," Hermione snapped before she could stop herself. "But 'the neighbors talk,' remember? So it was better for you to let me in, right? Don't think I'm stupid, Mr. Malfoy, I know you're up to something."

That thin smile played at the corners of his mouth again. There were a few moments of silence before he merely said, "'Mr. Malfoy' reminds me of my age, Miss Granger. 'Lucius' will do for now."

"Well 'Miss Granger' reminds me of mine," Hermione snapped before she froze in shock. Had she actually just suggested that they meet on a first-name basis?

Lucius smirked at this but merely extended a hand and prompted, "Your story, Miss Granger."

Hermione flared her nostrils. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or frustrated that he wouldn't call her "Hermione," so she decided to abandon the issue entirely. "It's a long one."

Lucius gestured vaguely in the air. "I don't have urgent plans, do you?"

Hermione flushed. "…No." There was a note of sadness that unintentionally crept into her voice, and she hoped Lucius hadn't heard it, but of course he had.

Lucius seemed interested by this response, but he did not press the issue further other than to nod at her, encouraging her to proceed with her tale of woe.

I'm in such a state… Hermione thought. She knew her hair must be a complete frizzy mess, and her clothes were all but ruined, but for some reason, she didn't want to dry herself off just yet. The rain, though cold, had been cleansing. With me looking this way, he must know it's a tale of woe and wants to indulge in my misery, that bastard. But what harm could it really do…?

Hermione shrugged off her sopping cloak and laid it out by the fire to dry before making her way over to one of the armchairs.

"No," Lucius said. "Not on the upholstery, if you insist on staying in such a state. The elves just cleaned it."

Hermione's face flushed, and she felt like a chastised five-year-old. She thought about sitting on the floor before realizing that would make her appear even more childlike and ridiculous, and in front of Lucius Malfoy, the last thing she wanted to look was childish, so she remained standing.

"If you must know...I arrived home early from a visit with some friends," Hermione began, turning away from him to face the fire. There was something so strange about this civil interaction before the two of them, and Hermione would rather not look at Lucius while she spoke. His sharp eyes tore through any defenses she put up and left her with a strange kind of vulnerability she found herself hating. But he was a listening ear regardless, and admittedly, it felt good just to vent.

"I found…" she swallowed, "something I did not expect. I was surprised and in my anger I took to the streets of London and more or less lost my way."

Hermione heard a "tsk" from behind her and turned to face Lucius, who was shaking his head.

"You're a brilliant witch, my dear, but a terrible liar."

Hermione's blood ran cold from the ease at which he could see right through her.

"I wasn't lying."

"But you certainly weren't telling the truth."

Hermione sighed, knowing that Lucius's interrogation would never stop until he was satisfied.

"Something caused you to storm out of your flat in such a state you somehow managed to end up 100 miles away, in Wiltshire."

"Wiltshire…?" Hermione breathed. How had she gotten so far from home? Had she apparated without even realizing it?

And ended up at Malfoy Manor?

Lucius's cold grey eyes continued to dwell on her, but Hermione was lost in thought. For one of few times in her life, she didn't have an answer.

A minute of silence passed before Hermione finally broke it, facing the fire once more, deciding to just continue with her story.

"I came home and found Ron…and he was…with Lavender…and…I just had to…get some air."

"So that's what they're calling tearing through London in the middle of the night in a thunderstorm nowadays."

Hermione shot Lucius a glare before consciously turning her back on him.

"So the Weasley boy is the cause of this late night escapade, because he was having a few of his own."

Hermione almost visibly gagged at this, and she whipped around to face Lucius with the sudden urge to hex him. Lucius showed no response and merely continued, "And was he also the cause of…?" He gestured with his cane to Hermione's wrist she still cradled in her other hand.

"No!" Hermione snapped, insulted that he would even think that lowly of Ron. "Your stupid brick tripped me."

"Interesting way to put it."

"Well now onto you, Lucius," she spat his name sarcastically, and his brow furrowed, as if he had never truly heard his first name spoken by another person before. "What were you doing lurking around the gates in the middle of the night in a thunderstorm? Patrolling your perimeter for Mudbloods?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Lucius's face at her use of the slur, but his features quickly hardened into his usual unreadable expression once more. His tone was even and calm. "I asked you to satiate my curiosity in exchange for my hospitality, but I don't believe you've offered me anything of value, other than more work for my house elves."

Hermione was too frustrated to respond. For a moment she had actually thought that she and Lucius were having a nice, civil conversation.

But she had forgotten, she was talking to Lucius Abraxus Malfoy, former Death Eater, man who conspired with Lord Voldemort to murder Harry Potter, pureblood fanatic, blood supremacist…

He never gave something for nothing. And she was nothing more than a Mudblood.

Hermione laid across her now somewhat dry cloak by the fire, her back to Lucius, and he laughed. "Now you're going to ignore me and what, fall asleep on the floor of the hearth, covered in soot and ash?"

"It's where you think I belong, isn't it?" Hermione shot back. "You can try to pretend all you want and go on with this 'changed man' charade, but I haven't changed; my blood is still the same as it always was."

Silence fell.

She knew he was still there, watching her, even though the only sound she could hear was her frustrated breaths through her nose. A part of her hoped he would say something, but another part of her just hoped she wouldn't suddenly be struck with the Cruciatus curse.

Finally, the leather of the chair creaked, and Hermione heard the glass being set down on the table and his robes swish out of the room. The door shut quietly, and she could hear his cane tapping down the hallway until it faded out. A few seconds later, she cast a cautious glance over her shoulder, and she found that Lucius was indeed gone. But to where? And was he coming back?

Relieved but still unsure of what to do, she rolled back over and faced the fire.

I'm all the way in Wiltshire? No money, no contacts, no one even knows I'm here…

As she stared in the fire, the flames danced pleasantly before her eyes.

Maybe I will rest here, if only for a moment, she thought, before sleep overtook her and she was lost to the world.