This chapter will look weird cos I've lost  all my notes with 3d ch. and I had to  recall some bits... well, my memory is... not that good :)

This chapter dedicated to Airy, who helped me to get throught some tough times with that fic :)

Chapter 3, where Hermione is about to meet another relative.

~*~*~

Hermione turned on her heels in one swift moment.

-Malfoy! Would you care to explain what's that all about?!... Malfoy? Malfoy, where are you?

Hermione took several steps towards the chair Draco had occupied before. Bumping into empty piece of furniture Hermione repeated her question, this time with much more venom (maybe aching the knee was making her bad-tempered).

-Where are you, Malfoy! I don't have time for this game.

Then, Hermione sensed with tiny hair on her back that something was appearing behind her. Something cold and dark, freezing and terrifying.

Before she could move, her mind registered peircing pain in one little spot - where her dress ended and bare skin began. Pain was scaring, burning…

-Boooo!

Malfoy was giggling.

That's when Hermioneforced her mind to realize what had happened and that it wasn't a dementor with a knife or the Dark Lord with Avada Kedavra. Instead it was this stupid git Draco with a piece of ice in his hand. Due to sudden rush of adrenaline Hermione's vision drastically improved, so she was able to hit that ugly "cousin" of hers with such precise force that boy lost his balance and started falling backwards, taking Hermione with him.  Then came slapping, hitting, pitching and scratching.  Finally Draco managed to catch Hermione's both hands and stop her from further damaging his lovely body and face.

It was painful for both of them, really.  And it wasn't that humiliating till the very fine moment when light was turned on and Hermione had to face the boy she was currently sitting on.  But the worst was to come when a cheerful and slightly blushing Mrs. Granger appeared at the doorway and said:

-Well, well, look who's here - uncle Lucius!

 ~*~*~

Hermione was staring at Lucius.

Malfoy Jr. laid forgotten under her. Hermione's mind refused to  produce any more thoughts as she realized that this tall man in pin-striped suit and with short hair was indeed Draco's father.

As she was gaping at Lucius, he raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow indicating... Hermione followed his line of vision... Oh, no! No, no and once again no!

As if the glittering light of her body wasn't enough for humiliation, her dress was totally messed up and Lucius probably could see her bra from his point of viewing.

 When Hermione lowered her head enough to see the same this stunningly handsome man could, she wished she could perform "oblivio" on herself.

Hermione's mind kindly rewinded and played once again some events of the morning:

there she's picking modest beige bra

there she's changing her mind and taking her sexy push-up bra

...and there she's deciding not to wear any bra cos it's too hot.

Without really thinking, she instinctively wanted to cover up, but as her hands were still held by Draco, she simply collapsed on the slim boy's body.

Pretty naturally, as you can see.

At least Lucius could no longer observe... well, you-know-what.

And Hermione felt that  Draco could feel you-know-what. So before all of this was to get even more embarassing than a poor teenager human can bear, Hermione rolled from Draco, bumping her head in that process.

-Hermione, darling, what's going on here?

 Getting up and straightening her dress, Hermione mumbled "nothing". That's when she heard that rich, dark and oh-so-sexy voice:

-No, sweetie. My son's wrong and now he's going to apologize, aren't you, Draco?

That was the most obvious threat Hermione ever heard. That's why she replied, avoiding both Lucius and Draco's eyes:

-No, you don't have to. It's ok. It's just, - she finally looked at Draco, - brother-sistery stuff.

Draco just raised an eyebrow - and at that moment he was a copy of his father.

-Well, well, if you say so, Hermione. Anyway - if he ever hurts you, just tell me. That's what uncles are for.

Forcing a weak smile Hermione looked up at him with "thanks".

That was a very uncalled for and unnecessary thing to do.

Her mother turned away to find some plates, so she couldn't see how "uncle's" face changed from nice to  poisonous. His thin lips formed word "later" when shocked Hermione was trying to put everything togetehr.

What was she thinking about?! Was she hoping that Lucius would be as brainwashed as her mother was, huh? How naive that was!

Mrs Granger turned back to the group of relatives holding a cheese cake and then with   happy "it's dinner time" she punched Lucius at the ribs. Never in her life Hermione was so close to becoming an orphan.

But Lucius just smiled and licked his lips - at that particular moment Hermione forgot that she was a mudblood and he was a Death Eater - who needs those classifications anyway?

Lucius sighed deeply:

-Oh, I'm so sorry, but I can't stay any longer. I just popped in  to bring Draco's things. I have to go now. And, - he looked intently at Hermione, - can I have a word  with my adorable Hermy. I've got a present for her.

Lucius winked at Mrs Granger, and dragged scared Hermione from the kitchen to the small hall.





a/n: I promise to explain "pin-striped suit" and "short hair" in future chapters :)

I just couldn't stop myself from quoting one interview with Jason Isaas:

Ignorance like this, however, is rare. Rowling's books seem to bring about the trainspotter in everyone. No one seems just content to play a role. They all want to understand the world, know their characters inside out, become an essential cog in the fantasy. Isaacs, for instance, insisted upon a decadent look for his sneering Lucius Malfoy -- cape, fur, silver-topped walking stick and flowing blond hair, rather than the pin-striped suits the designer originally suggested. 'I said well, he's an aristocrat Lucius Malfoy, he comes from countless generations of would-be wizards and he's like those hideous members of the Tory party here who might be in government but really rule the country behind closed doors and their sofas are tatty and their jackets are tatty but their grandfather wore them. There's no point in being in a film about wizards and dressing like a businessman, frankly. Might as well dress like a wizard.'