Thanks for the continued reviews follows and favs and for tagging along for my little folly. I hope you are enjoying it none the less.

As always apologies for any errors etc.

If somewhere in her subconscious Hermione had been expecting the grounds to be anything like those at Malfoy Manor, save the size, she was very much mistaken. There was nothing remotely dark or foreboding about the gardens surrounding this particular Malfoy establishment, as with everything else she had enjoyed so far, it was quite beautiful and simply perfect.

They ambled very slowly and amiably through the highly scented and exotic flowers, walking under tall, majestic trees. Strategically placed lanterns that burned orange and pink subtly illuminated birds of paradise and orchids, whilst dark green lamps cast strange haunted shapes amidst the high oak branches.

The once sneering pureblood wizard remained the genial and incredibly enlightened host, further impressing her with his expertise, pointing out specific plants and blooms. Of course there was still that part of Hermione that couldn't help but contemplate if it was all a well versed façade, a front which went with the role he now played with such conviction and consummate ease, the real Lucius Malfoy that she knew and loathed hiding somewhere behind it, but he seemed to be enjoying himself far too much for that, and was the former Death Eater really that good an actor?

"These days. many of my guests enjoy a variety of Muggle pursuits, clay pigeon shooting, golf and tennis." He offered conversationally.

Once upon a time Hermione would have been offended by his words, even if he did sound a little bit like his own glossy brochure, but there was no malice or derision in his tone as he escorted her into the walled garden. His hand coming chivalrously to her elbow as they ascended the small steps to the oval, lily covered pond, an unseen frog or toad croaking at their arrival.

"Beyond the arboretum just over there."

He pointed to an ornate iron gate on the other side of the water feature. The movement treating Hermione to another waft of that now very familiar, very heady cologne.

"Are four tennis courts, they in turn boarder an eighteen hole golf course, as I said Miss Granger, one must be all encompassing when in a business like this."

Hermione might have once loathed Draco Malfoy's hateful, sneering father, but there was no getting away from the fact that he was a very attractive, very charismatic man. She could clearly hear the delight in his voice as he turned to face her, his long lustrous blonde hair tumbling over one shoulder, shining in the numerous array of lights that twinkled around them, those same lights casting various shadows across those undeniably handsome features.

She nodded, smiling up at him, various very Muggle, very stereotypical images suddenly flashing through her mind. The Dark Wizard in a Barbour and flat cap shouting pull, clad in plus fours and argyle socks, grumpily chipping his ball out of a particularly nasty bunker, or best of all clad from head to toe in white, serving his ball with well-placed precision across the net.

"Do you shoot yourself or play?" She couldn't resist asking, the words seeming to take on a very different meaning as they slipped from her lips.

If he'd heard any double meaning in her question, he didn't comment.

"I like to shoot, and I find a round of golf most advantageous when it comes to business. As for tennis the mastery and enjoyment of that particular Muggle sport is something which eludes me."

Hermione bit her lip, managing to suppress her outright laughter, but unable to contain her response at the image he presented, together with the pictures her own mind had colourfully conjured.

"I must confess Mister Malfoy, whilst I can see you expertly brandishing a rifle and even striding victoriously across the putting green. The image of you dashing around the tennis court is not one which readily comes to mind."

His grey blue eyes glinted and narrowed.

"Do you play Miss Granger?" He asked, a decided inference on the word play.

Oh he'd caught the double meaning alright. This time it was Hermione who ignored it.

"I used to play tennis with my father when I was younger." She replied honestly to his enquiry.

"But I have never attempted to shoot, as for Golf, a famous American, Muggle author once said, Golf is a good walk spoiled, and I have to admit I would agree with him and quote you; the enjoyment of that particular Muggle sport eludes me."

Another of those knowing looks flittered across his face.

"Mark Twain."

Hermione was again struck with his breadth of knowledge, the surprise obviously reflected in her face.

"In business it also pays to show off with little snippets of information and the odd suitable quotation." He replied to her unspoken question.

"Do you have anything planned for tomorrow morning?"

Just like his invitation to dinner, his unexpected question caught her quite unawares, making her response just as quick and truthful.

"No nothing, only a lie in past 6am."

Although, despite RM's instructions Hermione doubted that was going to happen, her disciplined body woke at a little before 6am every morning, even at weekends and on the rare occasions that she wasn't working.

"Excellent, perhaps you would…"

His words were interrupted by a flapping sound, which they both turned towards, the wings of an approaching bird got louder and eventually a large owl landed on a low Cotswold stone wall beside the pond. Its huge orange eyes darted about, as if were conscious of being followed, its long ear tufts were raised, sensing alarm and the creature's round head rotated ominously. The hooked beak that nestled against downy brown feathers viciously clasped a piece of cream parchment. Hermione and Lucius Malfoy exchanged glances; she shrugged her shoulders. Only RM and his secretary knew she was here, and she doubted unless any major disasters had occurred, they would want to disturb her. The man at her side stretched out his arm, removing the missive from the owl's sharp beak with the same begrudging impatience that he had shown towards the house elves earlier. His displeasure at having his evening interrupted palpable, his brows knitting together as his narrowed eyes read the salutation. His frown became deeper, obviously, the note was addressed to him, he opened it without any fuss, reading it quickly. She saw those handsome features cloud, irritation and resignation seeping into his countenance.

"I fear I must cut short our stroll my dear, some urgent business that I must attend to immediately."

He screwed up the piece of paper, tossing it into the air, he muttered an incendio, and the small piece of parchment immediately burst into flames, the fragile grey ashes dispersing on the evening breeze.

Hermione's curiosity increased, but she didn't dare contemplate asking what could be so important at this time of the evening, to drag him away so abruptly. She was also a little disappointed, much as she hated to admit it, she had been enjoying herself, the man she had once hated so much, was unexpectedly good company.

"Join me for a shoot at 8am, I'll send a house elf to get you."

Considering what she had told him, Hermione was surprised by, well she could hardly call it his invitation, by his command, but still eager to find out more about what this man was up to, and possibly what his urgent business now was, she readily accepted.

"I'd like that." She agreed, keeping her tone light.

"If you walk down there." He indicated a small archway in the opposite corner to the gate which lead to the tennis courts.

"It will take you back to the hotel."

He gave her a polite, albeit slightly weary smile, Hermione could see his thoughts were elsewhere, visibly distracted by the message he had received. Whatever its importance, she assumed he would accompany her back, but evidently not, in a split second he apparated, leaving her alone with the haughty looking owl, who promptly lifted its vast wingspan and also departed, even the croaking amphibian seemed to have vanished too, the night air now utterly silent.

With just her burning curiosity and overactive thoughts for company, Hermione followed Lucius Malfoy's directions through the jasmine covered pergola, it did indeed bring her to a pathway which lead directly back to the Hotel.

During the course of their interrupted stroll they must have moved to a move elevated point on the lush grounds, as Hermione found herself almost looking down on the splendid building. Like everything else it was skilfully lit, highlighting every inch of the magnificent architecture and its beautiful surroundings. Despite her initial reservations, she was glad RM had sent her here, and was determined to make the most of the time, relax and actually enjoy it, and of course do a little snooping.

Slightly to one side of stately house was a glass conservatory type structure, whether it had been part of the original construction Hermione very much doubted, she made a mental note to ask her host about it in the morning, but despite her thoughts, it didn't look out of place at all. From her quick flick through the advertising brochure earlier, Hermione recalled it housed various hot tubs, and even a sauna. The thought of a tranquil hour soaking in warm frothy water certainly appealed to her, it might even help with the sleep she still felt would elude her. Hermione picked up her step and made her way back towards the glass domed structure and promise of warm relaxing bubbles….

Absolutely nothing had disappointed the young witch about this place, and she meant absolutely nothing.

It wasn't particularly late, but in the nicest possible way, Hermione felt as if she had been her forever. Her relaxing afternoon in the spa had drifted quickly and surprisingly into a very pleasant evening, pleasant and Lucius Malfoy, now those were three words that Hermione never expected to be using in the same sentence, but implausible as it might be, that was exactly what it was. A little voice which had earlier wondered what it would be like to taste fine cognac on his lips, now pointed out that a few short hours ago she had him plotting world domination. As Hermione removed her clothing and slipped into the huge wooden tub, she assured the little voice that she hadn't totally discarded the notion, it just wasn't at the forefront of her mind right now, unlike perhaps the man himself.

There were no mechanical whirring sounds as the dark clear water bubbled, there were no richly scented oils or creams, it simply frothed and lathered magically for maximum relaxation. The jets of magic increased, tickling and stimulating her body, Hermione savoured the feeling as it lapped against her skin. The large glass dome above her head wasn't enchanted in any way, on such a beautiful cloudless night, the stars which filled the night air were all very real.

There was only a small wooden bench beneath her naked bottom, but Hermione was so comfortable it felt like a plush armchair. She stretched against those pummelling jets, they seemed to stroke and caress her body with a mastery all of their own, she once again found her thoughts wandering to the man with whom she had shared a dinner table. Her eyes drifted shut, the twinkling night stars were replaced by Lucius Malfoy's own glittering blue grey eyes, they were as fathomless and deep as the luminous astronomical spheres, and just as mesmerising.

She couldn't help but wonder how her evening would have ended had they not been interrupted. Hermione allowed her mind to wonder and to wander a little bit further. It was no longer the frothing warm water which caressed her skin, it was the Dark Wizard's long elegant fingers, the bubbles which tickled and stroked her neck were replaced by his lips. She tried to open her eyes, but just as they had done earlier in the spa, they remained firmly closed and she gave herself over to the gushes which massaged her flesh well below the surface of the water, the gentle and not so gentle vibrations which rushed between her legs bringing her body even more alive. Would she actually have allowed a man like Lucius Malfoy to have touched her in this way, touched her at all…kiss her, to…

She put her more than wanton thoughts down to the alcohol she had consumed, it really was much more than she was used to, that and being so utterly relaxed, not having to think about work or needing to be somewhere was something else she wasn't used to these days. It appeared the two things combined were a heady mix, making her thoughts run amok. But that was all they were, thoughts, the man himself having been taken away by business. She wrinkled her nose, again pondering the outcome of her evening, had he not been.

This was so unlike Hermione, a little spark of defiance also boiled beneath the water; Why was it she asked herself. She was a free agent, in every sense of the word right now. She was a young, not unattractive woman, she enjoyed male company, and quite honestly, she enjoyed sex, not that she'd had much time for either of late, her recent assignments had kept her very busy and she didn't like to mix business with pleasure. Sometimes in her line of work, it was a necessity, but it could be dangerous and could easily cloud your judgement. Lucius Malfoy wasn't business, not to her anyway, not at this moment at least, but she had a feeling he could undoubtedly be pleasure, there was that word in the same sentence as his name again. The thought fired the defiance and the sensations raging through her body, uncertain as to which one aroused her the most. Oh yes he would definitely be pleasure, but he could also be incredibly dangerous. Clearly her judgement was already more than a little clouded, but she wasn't working, she'd been told in no uncertain terms to take the weekend off, what harm could it do if she chose to indulge in a little fun of her own? She argued silently with herself, still enjoying the thought of the Dark Wizard's caress not the bubbling water.

Hermione remained curious about the owl he had received, but now she was as irritated as he had obviously been by its untimely arrival. Inhaling deeply in frustration, she could still smell that spicy masculine cologne of his, a small smile lifted her lips as she recalled his closeness over dinner. His fingers inadvertently touching hers, his powerful thigh brushing against hers, her own hand resting playfully, yet suggestively on his knee. She imaged the same scenario now, this time their flesh naked as it touched calf to thigh, that playful hand of hers had now taken on far more provocative undertones as it connected with his skin. It wasn't the warm water or the magically vibrating jets which heated her skin now or stimulated her sensitised body, she let out a small hum of appreciation at the thought, shifting against the tormenting current.

"Dare I ask what is going on in that razor sharp mind of yours now Miss Granger?" His very soft sexy voice asked slowly, sensually.

Her eyes wanted to fly open at the unexpected but welcome sound of his voice, part of her wanted to shrink a little further into the tub, she did neither. Her eyes fluttered very slowly open, glancing seductively towards that ridiculously sexy sound, one arm stretched along the edge of the wooden tub, a Veela red tipped finger danced against the rim of the sunken oversized barrel. In that split second Hermione Granger was determined to find out how her evening would, should have ended. Very softly and very slowly she too spoke…