Narcissa Malfoy trembled with anger. For the third day in a row, she had to watch her husband disappear into the library after breakfast, spend the whole morning with the mudblood, and only come out again for lunch. What was he doing there with the slave? For generations, the Malfoy family library was revered and looked at as incomparable; even when she was a daughter of the House of Black, she had heard about it. And now it was her husband, of all people, who defiled this memory and let in a mudblood?

She could not understand why all the men around her were suddenly so obsessed with Hermione Granger. Why had her husband chosen this slave of all things? What did he want with a young woman when he had her, his loyal, devoted wife. She would sacrifice anything for her family, but she got nothing back for that devotion. Lucius hardly spoke a word to her anymore, preferring to amuse himself with the slave. And Draco, he seemed determined to not speak to anyone at all anymore.

She clenched her fists angrily. As so often lately, she sat alone in the music room in an armchair in front of the fireplace, a book she had started on the side table carelessly put aside, and her eyes absently fixed on the grand piano at the other end of the room. Since the Dark Lord's victory, her house had become quiet. While it had served as a sort of headquarters for many weeks before, the other Death Eaters seemed to have no interest in the manor now - visitors were rare. Even her own sister, Bellatrix, hadn't come by once since that memorable day of victory. Not that she really missed her. Her older sister's madness troubled and frightened Narcissa Malfoy. And yet - any company was preferable to none. Anything was better than having to brood over whether or not her husband was having fun with a mudblood.

oOoOoOo

Only the soft scratching of her quill on the index card disturbed the perfect silence in the large library. For the third day in a row, Hermione sat here, working away without pause, pushing Lucius Malfoy's presence to the periphery of her consciousness as much as possible. Or at least tried to. The events of yesterday still hung heavy in her mind. She had given free rein to her emotions and shown weakness, had revealed how intensely she suffered from Snape's actions - but her fears had not come true. On the contrary, if anything, Lucius Malfoy seemed to be the one who emerged from the situation weakened. When he picked her up after breakfast this morning, she noticed a reticence she had never noticed before.

What on earth was going on in that man's mind? She sighed. She got the feeling he treated her like a timid doe he did not want to scare away. If she could at least detect malicious intention or cunning in his actions, she could have attributed it all to a perfidious plan. Instead, she discovered only insecurity. Was he afraid that she would start crying again? The thought was so absurd, it made her chuckle before she could catch herself.

"What's so amusing?"

Startled, Hermione turned around. The object of her thoughts had obviously noticed her quiet giggle and was now giving her a sceptical look. Blushing, she looked to the ground.

"I'm not going to rip your head off, Granger!" Malfoy commented dryly when he got no response, "It's just the first time I've heard you seriously laugh since you've been here - and I'd quite like to know what amused you so."

Briefly, Hermione stared at her owner. His open way of talking to her only confused her more. Where was the Lucius Malfoy who had so condescended to her, who had shamelessly first discovered and then sold her virginity? The Lucius Malfoy who, years ago, had exposed Ginny Weasley to the disastrous influence of Tom Riddle? All she saw here was a man talking to her as if she were his equal. And so, Hermione decided to push her luck.

"You."

Lucius Malfoy almost choked on his own saliva. "I beg your pardon?"

"You made me laugh."

"What do you mean?" Malfoy demanded to know, his cool exterior changing to a sour grimace.

Filled with a sudden sense of confidence, Hermione decided to go one step further. "I was just thinking about why you are so cautious, almost polite to me today. And the first answer that came to mind was that the event yesterday had taken its toll on you."

For a long moment, Malfoy seemed to just stare at her in surprise. If she did not know it was impossible, Hermione would have thought he looked almost afraid. As though she touched something she shouldn't have.

"It would be very kind of you to elaborate a little."

Now it was Hermione's turn to react with surprise - she would have expected anger and violence on his part. Instead, she got a serious, honestly interested answer - again. She felt like she was missing something, seeing the master of the house so open to an honest conversation.

"It really was just an absurd thought of mine ... I was just wondering if you were one of those men who can't see women cry ... and that's why, fearing that I might cry again, you're walking on egg shells around me.

Lucius faltered briefly, then burst into a relieved laugh. For a moment there, he had feared that she might be able to read his mind. Her very simple-minded explanation made it clear that she never spend any real thought on him. But the relief quickly gave way to an indefinable feeling of anger and loneliness.

He interrupted himself, forced a neutral expression on his face, and then looked directly at his slave. "That is indeed an absurd thought, Granger. I've never had any trouble with crying women. I know how to comfort women!"

"Oh, yes, no doubt," Hermione replied wryly, "I'm sure the Malfoys all know a great deal about comforting women."

The irony in her voice made Lucius Malfoy even angrier. Her tone and the look in her eyes made it obvious that she thought the opposite to be true. As if he was someone who beat women.

"No man of any worth would raise his hand against a woman!" The words escaped him before he could catch himself. He could see Hermione flinch and immediately regretted saying anything at all. The thoughtful expression that briefly flitted across her face drove him crazy. As open as she appeared yesterday, he now felt uncapable of even guessing what she was thinking.

"That's right, you've never tortured a woman before, of course."

Her bored voice, the way she was stretching as she turned in her chair to return to her work, her easy dismissal of anything he had to say, it all just increased his frustration.

"That's different!" he continued in his defence, "You're–"

Eyes flashing with anger, the young woman abruptly turned again. "Go on! What am I?"

Again, anger flared in Malfoy. She knew exactly what he was going to say, so why was she provoking him? She was a mudblood and thus fell out of the category of women he treated with respect. Did she really want him to say that to her face? Only with difficulty did he keep his anger under control. This young woman in front of him, who had evoked so much tenderness in him yesterday, made him livid with hate today. Only yesterday he had admitted to himself that he no longer meant her any harm, that he was almost grateful for her presence - why did she have to treat him like this today?

It almost escaped his notice that Hermione turned back around again in the meantime. The disregard he was met with was the last straw. Furious, Lucius Malfoy jumped up from his chair, bridged the distance to the desk with two steps, and dragged the surprised Gryffindor out of her chair.

"You should think very carefully about who you're talking to here!" he hissed as he propped his hands on the table to her left and right. Hermione was noticeably smaller than him, and under the cold stare she shrank even further inside. But she would not back down. She had gotten herself into this situation and realistically there was nothing he could do to her that was worse than what she experienced so far. Determined, she gathered all her courage and looked challengingly into his eyes.

The unimpressed stare visibly made Malfoy angrier. Breathing heavily, he looked down at her, staring into the brown eyes, until his gaze landed on her lips. Hermione didn't miss where the man in front of her was looking, nor did she miss that his breathing suddenly became heavier. Horrified, she registered how he took a hand from the table, reached into her hair, and brought her face closer to his.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Lucius Malfoy pressed his lips to Hermione's. The surprised gasp and the small hands digging into his chest in an attempt to push him off only intensified the lust for more. With a quick sweep, he grabbed both wrists and forced her to put her arms down. At the same time, he gripped her wild mop of hair tighter and intensified the kiss. A moan escaped him and he let go of her for a moment, gasping for breath. Driven by a sudden desire rising in him, he buried his teeth in her neck, placed hungry kisses on her neck, ran his free hand down her back and pressed himself as close as he could.

"Mr. Malfoy...stop! Please...stop!"

Hermione's sobbing and whispered words abruptly snapped the blond man back to reality. As he had the day before, he wondered what the hell he was doing. Horrified at himself, he let go of her and took a step back. How could he have lost himself like that in Hermione Granger twice in a row? What was it about this mudblood that made him forget everything in her presence?

"Thank you."

The soft whisper was almost inaudible, and yet it seemed infinitely loud to Lucius Malfoy. Eyes wide, he looked at Hermione.

"Thank you for ... stopping." she elaborated, "I ... I didn't expect my words to have any effect. Because they never did before. Not with Snape ... nor with Draco ... therefore ... thank you!"

For seconds, Lucius could only continue to stare at her. He had just forgotten himself, had taken advantage of her weakness, given in to his rage, and wanted to take all that pent-up anger out on her - and she thanked him for hearing her plea? It was all so ridiculous, so twisted.

Following an impulse, he approached her again and pulled her into his arms. He felt her stiffen, but when he did nothing more than hold her tight, she relaxed. She didn't return the embrace; she didn't start crying like the day before. But she didn't fight back either. And Lucius Malfoy enjoyed this feeling. The feeling that someone was letting him enjoy it without fighting back or showing a feigned reciprocation. The feeling that there was actually someone living in his house who wasn't lying to him. He didn't even want Hermione to return his tenderness, because he knew that she didn't have any such feelings. It was enough for him that she recognized his desire for human warmth, accepted it, and allowed him to hug her.