A/N: Written for Frumpologist's Wheel of Doom! She spins the wheel and we write based on the prompts she gives us. All drabble length. My spin this time around was Lucius Malfoy + Hate.

No beta, just Grammarly, all mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! I made a manip for this, you can find it on my Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.

Summary: Sparring with Granger was always a delight.

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Delight

There were few emotions Lucius Malfoy was more acquainted with than hate. For as long as he could remember, hatred ruled him. It wasn't uncontrollable, mindless hatred. Not the hot hatred of the battlefield. It was the cold, bitter hatred of a man whose convictions ruled him. Convictions that were bred into him as surely as they were bred into his father and his father's father before him. Hate was in the Malfoy blood and Lucius seemed to have more of it than anyone else he knew.

He swirled the expensive Firewhisky in his glass as he surveyed the rest of his club. The second war was long over and still, the hatred ruled his heart. It filled him up and without an outlet for it, it just built inside his chest. There was no safe outlet for his hatred these days, except his seat in the Wizengamot, and even then, no raw hatred could be shown. Only sown through the laws presented and politicked over.

A few of his contemporaries nodded at him as they passed his table, though none joined him. Even more, ignored him entirely. That filled him with another kind of rage. A rage that ran hot under his skin. Though, that hatred couldn't be shown either. Lucius Malfoy did not show his hate or his rage to anyone. He was cool. His demeanor always chilly. His facade ice. His face a mask. Something else he hated.

"You should smile more," a low, sultry voice suggested. The grip on his glass tightened momentarily as Hermione Granger slid into the seat across from him. "You're actually good-looking when you smile."

The hatred and rage were still there, still vying for an outlet in his chest, but they dimmed somewhat in her presence and a true smile almost took over his face. The corners of his lips quirked up, just a little.

"Miss Granger," he gave her a small nod, schooling his face once more into the mask everyone expected of him.

"Lucius." She smirked at him and flicked her fingers, a waiter brought her a tall glass of deep red wine.

"Who are you wooing this evening?" he asked. Granger was the youngest member of the Wizengamot and had joined every exclusive club in London that would have her in order to politick at work and in her off hours.

"Perhaps I'm just enjoying a drink with a colleague," she suggested, taking a sip of her wine. Lucius watched her lick a drop of wine from her bottom lip and felt some of the tension leak from his body, only to be replaced with a different sort of tension. Sparring with Granger was always a delight.

~Fin~