Sorry it's a bit late, but this chapter ended up being about... 2.5k longer than I ever expected? I really hope you enjoy it.
By the way... I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but this story is over 100K now! Amazing! Also... I know this isn't a huge amount by the standards of most fics, but Come and Go Room has hit over a hundred subs on both and A03. I'm absolutely thrilled. This is by far the most well-liked thing I've ever written and I'm honestly so grateful to have you all on board and hear your thoughts!
That all being said, let's get into it! Their first date!
The day drew closer and closer. The anticipation was absolutely delicious. It was also completely frustrating.
True to form, Lucius was categorically refusing to give her even the slightest hint of where he was taking her. Hermione made guesses. She whispered them to him when they were alone or, if the suspense was simply too much for her to bear, during particularly loud parts of mealtimes.
Hermione reasoned. She pleaded. She fluttered her eyelashes, which she thought she was getting pretty good at. All to no avail.
Mostly Lucius would just tell her to be patient. Sometimes, he'd have a little more fun with it. He would part his lips in shock, put a hand to his chest, and wonder aloud how she had ever guessed. Then he'd grin, and she'd know.
She couldn't stay angry with him. That was the problem. He was just too good-looking. She would tell herself that she'd scold him the second they were alone, fully intending to follow through, but she never did. They would be alone and he would kiss her, run a hand through her hair, or ask about how her students were doing, and that would be the end of it.
Before she knew it, their date was just around the corner, and so far the only thing he'd told her was that if she was serious about wanting their relationship to be kept a secret for the time being, she had better wear a disguise. Since that was the only tidbit he'd given her, she seized upon it.
If nothing else, she knew that wherever they were going, there would be other people there.
For her disguise, she chose an illusion she had used to wear when going about her day. After the War, when all she had wanted was to apply herself to her craft and be left alone, and all the world had wanted was another photo of Hermione Granger. This illusion had been her solution, and she slipped it on now like an old, familiar jumper.
Hermione had put a lot of work into it. This was no mere Polyjuice. It would last for hours. She hadn't stolen anyone else's face either; she'd built this illusion from scratch. A dozen different Charms woven together, perfect from every angle.
It was distinctly analogous to her real self. Still petite, still with curling brown hair that fell to the middle of her back. The illusions eyes were just like her own; bright and sharp. There were some differences, but the final result was that of a girl who might expect to be told, often, that she looked a lot like Hermione Granger.
That was good. At the very least, she wanted Lucius to be able to recognise her.
Her disguise was ready, and was free to spend the remaining days performing her duties, stealing time with him, and wondering where he would take them.
They met at Hogsmeade at eleven o'clock. To be safe, Hermione had put on a dark cloak with a deep hood. Not knowing whether their date would be amongst muggles, wizards, or both, she had chosen a pantsuit and sensible, low heels. That way, if wherever they were going necessitated standing on her feet all day, she could still be comfortable.
Of course, none of this sort of forethought would be necessary if Lucius had just been a little more upfront about the whole thing.
From behind her, she heard the cry. "There you are!"
Hermione turned, and saw him.
Lucius' robes were a brilliant sapphire blue. Where they parted, she could see that he wore a tailored muggle suit of the same colour underneath. He wore dark glasses, but they were the very small, fashionable kind which in no way covered his face. His striking platinum hair had at least been pulled back into a sort of bun, and bangs fell down his cheeks, but the colour could belong to absolutely no-one else but a Malfoy.
He looked drop-dead gorgeous, powerful, rich… and instantly recognisable.
Hermione restrained the urge to tug her hair. "Lucius, I thought you were going to wear a disguise."
Lucius gave her a bewildered look. "And I am. I never wear blue."
Oh dear.
Well, he'd honestly tried and besides, blue was a fantastic colour on him. No matter where they were going, Hermione was reasonably confident that her boyfriend would be the best looking man there.
She smiled up at him fondly. "Alright, then." She said. "Where to from here?"
In answer, he held out a gloved hand. Ever mysterious.
She took it, and off they went.
The apparition was elegantly done. Hermione wasn't used to being taken side-long, but even so, she only felt the slightest tug in her belly before they arrived.
Hermione's shoes crunched on gravel. She caught herself, and cast a long, slow look around her.
The path they'd landed on was straight and wide and surrounded by manicured lawns, flower-beds and topiaries. Immaculate and totally artificial. In the distance Hermione could see lush, dense woodland.
Ahead of them was a building. It was grand, and it wanted everyone to know about it.
Hermione wasn't an architect, but even she could tell that the tall building was ancient. It was made of dark stone and covered in ivy, with sweeping arches and long, narrow windows. It was very nearly a castle.
From this, she could piece several things together.
One, the fact that Lucius had apparated them directly onto the grounds of… wherever this was, probably meant that this wasn't a wizarding house. If it was a wizarding house, it had to belong to someone who knew and trusted Lucius very well. No-one else would allow someone to apparate directly outside their house, particularly with a guest in tow.
Second, she was pretty confident that they weren't in Scotland any longer. The weather was distinctly milder than what she'd gotten used to over the last few months, and the land around them rose and fell in gentle slopes, rather than dramatic, windswept crags.
Third, they weren't alone. Though she couldn't see anyone, upon marble pedestals and plinths scattered upon the path were a strange assortment of items. Crystal goblets, cigarette cases, and vases. Hermione would have bet money that they were Portkeys. Either that, or a very odd art installation.
So. They weren't in Scotland. They weren't necessarily in a magical house, but they wouldn't be the only magical people there. Whoever was hosting them certainly understood magic, though, because they'd obviously gone to great lengths (and expense, Hermione thought) to make sure that everyone could get home comfortably, whether they were proficient with apparition or not.
Interesting.
Hermione said, "Alright, Lucius. Now I'm really curious."
He smirked. "Then we are off to a good start. Let's go on."
They set off for the main entrance together, him to her left. An antiquated show of respect and good manners that she'd known about even before reading her romance novels; if a witch's wand hand was her right, a wizard always walked to her left so he could defend her better. If a witch was left-handed, then vice versa. Hermione didn't mind it. It didn't particularly bother her that she was objectively a more proficient fighter than he was. It felt… right.
What she didn't like was how distant they felt from one another. Not emotionally, they hadn't felt emotionally apart for a long time. Physically. Just walking side by side like a couple of acquaintances.
She slipped her hand into his. Lucius jumped and looked down at their entwined fingers with almost comical surprise. She let his hand go, missing the warmth and strength of his hand immediately.
"Don't worry, Lucius." Hermione teased, trying not to feel hurt and mostly succeeding. "I won't bite."
But really, she was confused. It was only hand holding. She'd expected a certain amount of… well, prudishness, from him. Their night on the rooftop had been pure fire, though, and so she'd happily disregarded that assumption. So why this aversion to hand holding, then?
She'd come to understand that Lucius wanted to take things slowly. They'd gone no further than kissing, no matter how passionate. She would wait as long as it took. What they had was worth it, and she didn't want to make him uncomfortable.
Still… if Lucius wasn't comfortable with public displays of affection, that would be a shame. There was something really nice about being close to the person you cared about while out and about.
"It's not done in public." Lucius explained delicately. "If we are attacked, I'll need my wand hand free."
To protect you, were the unsaid words. Hermione knew what he was getting at anyway. Honestly, that was really sweet. But totally unnecessary. Tradition was fine, but she didn't want it to get in the way of being close to him.
"Lucius, weren't you the one to tell me that there aren't any dark wizards left in the world?" She said, teasing before turning serious. "You don't have to hold my hand if you don't want to, but you've got nothing to be afraid of."
He mulled it over, and silently reached out his hand for her. She took it, a warm feeling spreading through her. Much better.
The immense doors hung open in an unspoken invitation. Lucius and Hermione stepped inside.
They came into a grand hall flanked by a double-sided staircase. A chandelier dripped crystal down from the ceiling to brush the floorboards. Gilded portraits hung on the walls, but they were either the muggle kind or just empty. Everything was in rich, warm hues; gold, red, mahogany.
It screamed opulence in a way that Hogwarts did not. Hogwarts drew its prestige from its history, this place from sheer excess. It should have put her on edge, but Hermione was nothing if not adaptable. She'd spent time at the Ministry, after all. She was used to lavish decor and while this was certainly outside of her comfort zone, it was nothing she couldn't handle.
At one foot of the staircase stood a group of witches in formal dress. Their lips were moving, but Hermione couldn't hear a word they were saying. A muffliato?
A witch and wizard appeared at their side, seemingly out of nowhere. Hermione almost panicked, but they only took Lucius and Hermione's cloaks and left without a word. Servants, then. They made no acknowledgement of Hermione's thanks other than the smallest nod of the head.
"Okay. We're here. What next?"
"See for yourself." Lucius said, and handed her what resembled a small, elegant dinner menu, only instead of prices, a set of times, fifteen minutes apart, were listed in a column along the side.
A hat purported to belong to Merlin. Referenced in Galwain's Chronicles of the Fantastical.
Eight millimeters of A Most Effective Potion for Envoking Magicke, commissioned by the muggle Aleister Crowley. Certificate of Authenticity provided.
The incomplete works of the hedge-witch Marigold of Northumberland, numbering two hundred and forty seven pages.
The tooth of an unborn Vinewing dragon, weighing fifty grams.
The Memories of the magizoologist Briar McKenney from his time among the Selkie tribes in the Celtic Sea, the Mountain Trolls of Nepal, and the Vampires of the West End.
A men's hair comb, found in the house of a maid formerly in the employ of Corvinus Gaunt. Dated at approximately one thousand years AD.
Hermione realised.
This was an auction. Lucius had brought her to an auction.
Hermione flipped the page with trembling fingers.
The list went on and on. Every item as fantastical as the one before. A seedling from a Singing Tree, about a foot and a half tall. All but extinct, it was said to produce spectacular wand wood, particularly for enchanters. Hermione hadn't realised you could actually buy a Singing Tree anymore; just the blossoms. Even they were prohibitively expensive.
Looking at the 'menu' was like the doors to a great treasure trove were opening right before her eyes. There were a few items, obviously, that she discounted as being rubbish or simply not up her alley. The vast majority of everything else, though, could be absolutely crucial to her research.
What could I do with a wand made out of the wood of a Singing Tree? And those Memories… priceless. Years of immersive, cultural experience. Nothing missed. The journey of a lifetime taken by one of the best magianthropologists of the age.
And then there was Marigold. One of the few Dark Age witches who they knew very much about. The vast majority of all English weather magic stemmed from her work, or something that one of her daughters had come up with.
She read that little passage over and over. Incomplete works. What did that mean? Had they pieced together a few spells or diary entries, or was it something more tangible? Would it even have anything that Hermione hadn't seen before? It didn't matter.
Hermione didn't consider herself to be a very sentimental person, but she didn't have a heart made of stone. The idea of touching something written by one of the most important figures in Old English witchcraft was mind-blowing. Could greatness imprint on parchment and lay dormant for hundreds of years?
Lucius was giving her a strange look, and suddenly Hermione became aware of a strange whistling sound, like a kettle on the boil. It was coming from her. With difficulty, she swallowed down the noise.
As calmly as she could, she asked, "Um, Lucius? How did you find out about this place?"
"I was invited. I am Lord Malfoy, at least in public. To not invite me to an event such as this would be insulting."
"Right. Of course." Hermione said faintly. And then promptly forgot where she was and stared down at the list again. It had a magnetic pull that was almost impossible to resist.
It didn't last long. Lucius was talking, and Hermione forced herself to focus, "-at least something might have caught your attention. If we bid conservatively, I see no reason why we can't secure at least an item each."
One item? How could I ever choose only one?
Lucius must have seen it on her face, because he said, "Ah. I see. Well, the bidding is about to begin, shall we go on?"
Hermione followed his gaze and saw that the elegant witches at the staircase were being led away by the same servants who had taken their coats. Another waited patiently for her and Lucius. They followed her through the house.
She'd imagined an open space with rows of chairs and a podium. Instead, they were brought to what Hermione recognised as a private library, it was lined with books but had a podium at one end instead of a reading desk.
Hermione counted less than a dozen other guests. Some stood alone, some in small groups. The different groups stood apart. Some pretended not to notice Hermione and Lucius enter the room. Some, she saw, wore domino masks.
Purebloods, surely. She thought. No-one else could make being discreet so obvious.
No-one greeted Lucius by name, which sort of annoyed her. She'd almost been hoping that someone would call him out on his complete failure to come in disguise.
That wasn't to say that their entrance was unnoticed. She could see people casting glances at them, hear the barest murmurings of conversation from those who'd chosen not to use a muffliato.
Lucius ushered her onto a divan and sat beside her.
"Are you interested in anything in particular?" Hermione asked, to pass the time. To distract herself from the nerves rising up in her belly.
"The hair-comb would be my first choice, though I may not have enough for it."
Hermione frowned. Out of all the things he could've chosen, he would really pick the hair comb?
It's not as if she didn't understand. The time frame, the fact that it had been found in the house of a Gaunt maid… There was a real chance that the comb could have belonged to Salazar. It just surprised her that out of a whole selection of items that could be so useful, so interesting, he would choose something purely for its historical value.
But then, she supposed, perhaps they weren't that different after all. She would gladly pay a fortune for a chance at Marigold's works. Salazar Slytherin meant a great deal to many people, and Lucius was one of them. It made sense that Lucius would want it.
What didn't make sense to her was the idea that the bidding would go so high that Lucius couldn't afford it. Hermione knew the Malfoys were rich, even by the standards of Purebloods. She'd seen Malfoy Manor, after all, and that was probably only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the family fortune. It was hard to imagine anything that might be out of Lucius' price range.
She asked, "Will bidding go that high?"
Lucius explained, "I imagine so. I must be careful. Draco won't be pleased if I empty the entire family vault in a day, even for the sake of something that might have belonged to Salazar."
"Probably not." Hermione agreed. "What else?"
He didn't hesitate. "The potion. Any relic of Crowley's is a worthwhile investment."
The potion. It had been the one item on the list that had seemed really out of place to her. "Sort of strange, isn't it? Since he was a muggle? I'm surprised any wizard would want something of his."
"Crowley might have been a muggle, but he understood the theories of magic as well as any wizard. Better than most, in fact. It is only that none of it worked for him. Any number of his magical acquaintances could have done the final bit of wandwork to make the potion legitimate."
Well, that changed things. If that was true… the potion might actually work. A potion for granting magic to muggles?
The applications were endless. So too were the questions. If the potion really could give magic to a muggle, what would it do if a witch drank it? Would it increase her power? Cancel it out? Do nothing at all?
Hermione had a think about it. Witches and wizards (and informed muggles too, she supposed) had been trying to invent a potion like this one for… well, forever. They never worked. At best, they were failures. At worst, scams. If this one did actually work, what about it made it work? Could she figure it out? Could she replicate it?
Hermione realised she had been staring off into the distance, lost in thought. She glanced at Lucius, quickly, trying to see if he'd noticed.
He was looking at her and smirking. She smirked back at him. He laughed, and everyone turned to glare at them. Apparently, having fun was gauche. She didn't care. Lucius slipped an arm around her, and the auctioneer came into the room.
He wore a muggle suit, though very old fashioned. His hair was greying, but for a wizard, he was still in the prime of his life. His back was straight, and he took them all in with the cool friendliness of a professional.
"Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen, honoured guests."
Hermione said hello right back, and then felt like an idiot because no-one else said anything. She felt her face prickle with embarrassment. Lucius' hand found hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
The man went on, "We all know why we're here, of course. Before we begin, I'd like to take a moment to remind you all that the use of hexes, curses, jinxes, or mind control charms of any sort is very much against house rules and will result in immediate expulsion from the auction."
Mind control? Curses? Hermione gave Lucius a shocked look, which he didn't notice.
Hermione hadn't felt the need previously, but she did now. She reached into her robe, touched her wand and moved it in the barest motions of a muffliato. A second later, they had privacy.
She asked him, "Lucius, people don't really curse one another at these sorts of things, do they?"
"But of course. You'd be surprised at how many witches and wizards have gone missing after these sorts of gatherings. Or forget who and where they are."
That wasn't very encouraging. Hopefully everyone played by the rules today, though if not, Hermione was sure she could protect them both.
With the warning out of the way, the auction began. Luckily, the first few bids were for items that Hermione wasn't particularly interested in, which gave her a good opportunity to watch and learn.
It didn't do her much good, at first. The strange paddles she'd seen on tv as a young girl weren't used here. Instead people raised hands or wands in a rapid stream that everyone else could obviously understand, but was alien to her.
Lucius must have noticed her confusion, because he whispered in her ear, "One finger means five thousand. The more traditional witches or wizards may flick their wands like so. Two fingers, or a wand raised, means ten thousand."
Even watching was hard work. It was also thrilling. Hermione looked at the clock. It would be another half an hour until the bidding for Marigold's works started. She squirmed in her seat impatiently.
Half an hour. It might as well have been an eternity.
"Aleister Crowley's Magic-Envoking Potion. The bidding starts at ten thousand galleons."
It was the first item that was really special, and the mood in the room electrified. People sharpened, somehow. Leaned forward, became predatory.
Hermione and Lucius' eyes met. Sparks flew.
It was on.
Their wand hands both flew up at once.
"Twenty thousand galleons!" The auctioneer cried and then someone else bid, and it went up to twenty five.
Lucius bid thirty. A second later Hermione gave a flick of her wand, and it became thirty-five.
Without moving his lips, Lucius hissed. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione, stop bidding! We both want it. Only one of us needs to win. I am sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."
Hermione challenged, "How do you know I'll let you use it?"
Lucius Malfoy smiled a long, slow smile. She thought she saw his eyes dart down to her lips, but wasn't sure. "I'll ask politely."
"Sold, for forty thousand galleons!" The auctioneer called out, bringing them back to the moment.
Hermione blinked, Lucius turned to look at the auctioneer in real surprise.
While they had been distracted with one another, the potion had been bought by someone else.
They were taken into a dining room with chairs and tables set at a healthy distance from one another.
Lucius called it an intermission. Hermione had no idea how anyone was meant to relax. If people had started dropping dead all around her, she wouldn't have been the slightest bit surprised. The glares the patrons were levelling at one another were that poisonous.
It probably should have made her nervous. It didn't. Hermione was giddy.
"That was exciting." She said.
A woman at a table on the other side of the room caught Hermione's eye. She was dark skinned and about McGonagall's age. Her robes were voluminous violet and clearly expensive. A pair of clothed House Elves stood at her feet in a calculated display of wealth and status. They looked just about as proud as their mistress.
Hermione couldn't help but notice her. Not only because of the aura of power coming off of her, but because she was currently glaring at both Hermione and Lucius as if they had personally wronged her.
She couldn't help it. Hermione glared right back. The older witch blinked, and turned back to her wine.
"Is this a normal first date for Purebloods?" Hermione asked, sipping at her drink. It was good enough to give her real hopes for their lunch, which Lucius assured her should be arriving any moment.
She certainly hoped so. Hermione was starving. Watching other people spend fortunes was hard work, apparently.
Lucius barked in derision. "Hardly. I gave today a great deal of thought. You are a practical woman. I had to think of something that would serve a purpose." He paused for just a moment. "I hope today will be... useful to you?"
What a sweet, dear man he was. He'd put so much thought into this. "Very useful, Lucius. I promise."
Lunch was served in the wizarding style, in that plates appeared on their table out of thin air. It was a fusion of vegetables and roots known only to the magical world and tender lamb marinated in a rich sauce. It came with a selection of red and white wine which Lucius deliberated over for quite some time. And, of course, the jug of pumpkin juice that was a given at pretty much any gathering of magical people.
Hermione couldn't wait, so she tucked in.
The taste had layers to it. Smoky, but tantalisingly sweet. Prior to this point, the best food Hermione had ever eaten would have to be Hogwarts food, purely in its endless variety and overwhelming wholesomeness. This was different. Hermione had never had food so cleverly, so scientifically designed to please.
It was also tiny. The food was surrounded by an ocean of empty space on its plate. She'd only had a few mouthfuls and there was practically nothing left already.
It was delicious food, obviously made for people with taste and by an artisan, but in that moment, Hermione felt a powerful, desperate urge for a bowl of pasta or a stirfry.
Would it be bad manners if I asked for another serving? Hermione thought to herself, watching Lucius delicately eat his food with obvious enjoyment. Probably.
"I see now that our approach might have been a little haphazard." Lucius was saying, raising a glass of wine to his lips. He took a small sip and went on, "Perhaps we should narrow our bids to particular items. We can't simply bid for anything we like."
Hermione had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "Fine. The Singing Tree, Marigold's works, the Memories…"
"Dearest." Lucius began, and Hermione's chest warmed. She was starting to think that he could get away with pretty much anything, as long as he called her 'dearest' first. She hoped he never noticed.
Knowing him, he probably would.
"I am not sure you know you understand the phrase 'narrow down', in this context. I mean to say, we should probably choose a single item each, and reserve our funds purely for that. That way, we can be sure of leaving with something."
Hermione sighed, but knew he probably had a point.
This was ridiculous. This morning, she'd woken up one of the richest witches in England. Years of a successful career paired with minimal spending had meant that she always had far more money than she could conceivably spend. This afternoon, she found herself wondering if she could possibly afford all the things that she wanted. Wondering which of her inventions she could sell so that she might be able to survive for the next few months.
"Besides," Lucius said, "If you keep driving up the bids for every single item, Lady Shacklebolt will probably challenge you to a duel. That would not be wise."
"Lady Shacklebolt? As in…?"
"Kingsley's mother, yes. Ismene. She is not a woman to be trifled with."
Hermione hazarded another glance at the older witch. She was now smiling at them. The smile was somehow more terrifying than her glares had been.
Hermione sighed. Right, then.
Out of all the things she wanted, what did she absolutely need?
Their flirting had cost them Crowley's potion. The Memories were tantalising, but she was not a magianthropologist and potential historical significance notwithstanding, the hat and the hair-comb didn't interest her. The Vinewing tooth was interesting. Any part of a Vinewing was said to have fertility-enhancing properties, and could turn even the most barren land fertile. That was all very interesting, but it just wasn't her speciality. Best leave the Vinewing to someone who could make the most of it.
The Tree and the book, though… As a charms witch, both could be of immeasurable use to her. She could only imagine how much power the wand would lend to her spellcasting. Her vinewood wand was good, and her apple had become very closely attuned to her over the years, but there were times when she felt them bowing under the strain of her spellcasting. Marigold's work could be absolutely monumental to her studies if it contained even the tiniest bit of insight into how she'd done what she'd done, and if it didn't? It would still be a treasure beyond compare.
"The Singing Tree. And Marigold's book." Hermione decided. "I need them."
The auctioneered cried out, "Sold, for thirty thousand galleons to the lady on the divan."
Yes!
And just like that, the book was hers. Hermione could have danced for joy, but she settled for beaming instead.
Beside her, Lucius smiled. "Congratulations."
Thirty thousand galleons for something that might or might not contain something new. Something that, this morning, she wouldn't have thought it was possible for her to possess.
She was going to have to put a dozen different charms on her bookcase to keep the book safe. She was probably going to have to put a lock on her door, and teach Atlas and Crookshanks to stop using her bookshelves as perches. Keeping this book in good condition was going to be a huge undertaking.
Absolutely worth it.
The afternoon went on. They were brought flutes of champagne, which Hermione gladly took, and glasses of prawn cocktails, which she devoured. The tension grew thicker as the more valuable items came up for bidding.
Lucius won the hair comb, but it was a near thing. It cost him eighty thousand. Hermione winced sympathetically, but Lucius only gave a thin lipped smile of victory.
At last, the bidding for the Singing Tree began.
It started at twenty thousand galleons, and that alone should have been a sign that she probably couldn't afford it. Especially not after she'd spent so much on the book. Hermione didn't care. She couldn't forgive herself if she didn't at least try for it.
She raised two fingers and raised it to thirty. A few seconds later, the bidding had shot up to forty thousand, and Hermione knew her chances were shrinking further and further.
She went over her finances in her head. Her vault was full to bursting, and she had some muggle money that she could always convert. That was meant to be for emergencies. It was a sign of how desperate she was that she was even considering it.
While she'd been thinking, the bidding had gone up to fifty thousand, and then to fifty five. Hermione watched with mounting despair.
She couldn't afford it. She just couldn't. Accepting that stung. Her hands twisted in her lap, and she buried her longing deep down and told herself that she was being an idiot.
Hermione heard a little huffing sigh beside her.
Lucius raised his wand. The room fell silent.
"Sold, for sixty five thousand galleons."
Hermione couldn't help it. She cheered. She must have dropped the muffliato by mistake, because everyone glared at her, except for the auctioneer, who was too polite, and Lucius, who didn't bat an eyelid.
Hermione couldn't care less.
Half an hour later, Hermione and Lucius left the old house much poorer, but very, very happy.
The staff had asked her where she wanted the book sent, but she'd hardly wanted to announce that she lived at Hogwarts. Instead, she carried her book in her arms as carefully as she'd ever carried any baby. It had come in a case, thank goodness, but there was sense in taking risks with it. Lucius had slipped the comb into a pocket, and carried the Singing Tree tucked under one arm.
"Well done on winning the seedling." Hermione said. She was trying to be graceful, and didn't let any of her jealousy bleed into her voice.
She couldn't help staring, though. The Tree was every bit as beautiful as the sketches she'd seen in books. The few leaves it had were curled in on themselves. Their shape was reminiscent of the full curve of a woman's lips. As she watched, one of them quivered just the tiniest bit. Amazing.
Hermione knew that it was probably for the best that he'd won it. Like most trees, it would take a long time to grow to any decent size, but it would eventually need planting, and who knew how long she would be at Hogwarts for?
If everything went according to plan, Hermione might not ever even have her own garden.
"Hermione," Lucius said slowly, "The Tree is for you."
"What? Really?" Hope bloomed in her chest. "Are you sure?"
"Of course. Though I trust you'll find it in your heart to give me a branch, every now and again."
Hermione pulled him into a hug so powerful and so sudden that he almost dropped the Seedling.
"Of course I will." She said, her voice muffled in his chest. "Thank you, Lucius."
She still had no idea where she'd put it once it outgrew its pot, but she was sure she could think of something. Maybe Neville could find a spot for it in one of the school's greenhouses? That way the students could enjoy it too.
He flushed with pleasure. "It is nothing. I understand it is muggle custom for a man to buy a woman a gift on their first date. A token, of some kind."
Hermione laughed. "Usually a bouquet of flowers, Lucius. Not a ridiculously expensive, practically extinct magical tree. I hope you won't get in trouble? With Draco, I mean."
Lucius tried to wave it off. She knew him well enough to see the worry lurking behind his eyes.
"I can make it up to Draco." He said. "I'll have to pay more attention to my investments this year, I think, but I am quite the hermit these days. I can make do with very little."
Hermione thought of his wardrobe, and his scotch, and his Manor, and smiled.
"I've had an absolutely wonderful time." Hermione said, and meant it. She spent more money today than she normally would in a year. She'd spent the day in frantic competition with a group of resentful strangers. But it had been new, and exciting, and she felt like they'd learned a lot about one another.
Nicely done, Lucius, she thought.
"I'm glad. Now, I know we agreed that our next date would be in your hands, but I thought perhaps it might be nice to go to dinner-"
Her stomach gurgled, and relief rushed through her. "Oh, thank God. Yes please, Lucius. I'm starving."
"I thought next week, perhaps- Excuse me, now? You want to eat now? Hermione. We have been eating all day."
"Finger food, Lucius. It doesn't count." Not to mention, Hermione was almost desperate to spend more time with him.
"Very well. Where would you like to go?"
She knew exactly what she wanted. Mountains of delicious, filling food and all for a decent price. At the moment, her budget sort of demanded it.
She had to take him somewhere nice, though. Lucius deserved no less.
Suddenly, she knew exactly where to take him. Her decision made, she took him by the hand and apparated.
Since she'd long since come to the conclusion that nowhere she could take him could possibly live up to the sorts of fine dining he was used to, Hermione decided to take him somewhere she genuinely enjoyed instead.
The restaurant was all in regal blue with gold accents. The tables were close together, and almost all of them were full.
The difference from where they'd had their lunch at the auction house was remarkable. Everyone was chattering and laughing, and eating with gluttonous abandon. The restaurant was filled with people from every walk of life; young couples in business suits, families with children, and old people who'd obviously been coming for years. A group of students were making a half-hearted attempt at study, their laptops and textbooks looking pretty neglected as they knocked back drinks and joked with one another.
It was an overwhelming sort of place. That was one of the many things that Hermione loved about it. If ever there was a lapse in conversation, there was always something going on.
Hermione gave Lucius a nervous glance as they waited for the waiter to find them a table. She was pretty sure he wasn't used to having to wait, or to eating in a place so loud. He made no protest, though, and Hermione was grateful.
As they waited, she couldn't fail to notice the way several people turned around in their seats to stare at her very tall, very blond boyfriend. If it had just been because of his outfit, which was very unusual by muggle standards, that would have been one thing. It wasn't. People were outright looking him up and down with unmistakable interest. One woman actually pointed, and Hermione felt her gut wrench in jealousy.
More than a few people were also looking at her that way, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Lucius was hers, and while she fully understood that a beautiful man like him might be looked at wherever he went, she didn't need to be happy about it.
She stood just a little bit closer to him. The timeless, universal gesture that meant, he's mine. It was a small thing, but she saw that she'd made her point. Most people had the decency to turn away. It made her feel better, if nothing else.
Worried that he'd be feeling uncomfortable, Hermione gave Lucius a quick glance. He was totally oblivious to the attention he'd gathered. Instead, he was breathing in deeply, eyes closed.
Quietly, he said, "That smells… remarkable. Goodness. What is that?"
"Oh, that? That's our dinner." Hermione said with a deep breath of her own, savouring the heady, mouth watering smell of the spices. "It tastes just as good as it smells, I promise. My parents and I used to come here a lot."
They were finally seated. Lucius looked at the menu and after a few moments told Hermione that she should order for them. Hermione was more than happy to do it; she'd been here dozens of times and knew the menu like the back of her hand. She was sure that she could find at least something he would like. Hermione ordered a cocktail for herself, and Lucius asked for brandy, which they didn't have. He settled for whiskey instead and they waited for the food. Naturally, since Hermione was starving and in the company of a man she was very much interested in, it took a very long time to arrive.
"We never got around to finishing our conversation from the night of the Halloween Ball." Lucius said mildly as their drinks were served.
"Which one?" Hermione asked, thinking back. It felt like so long ago, now.
"We were discussing your inspiration. Maleficent. I would be interested to know more about her."
Oh, dear. She'd forgotten all about that. Hermione groaned internally, and bit the bullet. "Lucius… listen, I'm really sorry. There… there is no Maleficent. Not really. It's a children's cartoon." Seeing his blank look, she explained, "Like an illusion, but made with muggle technology instead of magic."
Lucius was silent for a moment, and Hermione's guilt had time to fester.
"I see." He said. "It is my own fault. I have always been gullible."
"No. No, Lucius, this isn't your fault. I really am sorry." She tried to explain. "I… I was just having so much fun with you, I got a bit carried away."
At this, his mood brightened, then soured a moment later.
"Ah. I will have to tell Narcissa and Astoria the truth. They will not be pleased. They were very excited to hear of this witch. We talked about her for quite some time."
Hermione spluttered on her drink, and immediately regretted it as the cocktail burned. "Hang on- Lucius, you told Narcissa and Astoria about Maleficent?"
"Of course." Lucius said, somewhat defensively. He fumbled awkwardly, a strange thing for him. He was always so elegant. "A gentleman always lauds the achievements of witches whenever he hears them."
"Oh." Hermione said. Oh, dear. Oh, no. "Do you think they would have told other people?"
Lucius winced. "Almost certainly. I imagine that between the two of them, they have probably told every society witch in England."
"Well…" Hermione said. "I won't tell if you won't."
Lucius laughed, and everything was alright again.
The food came, and Hermione had to restrain the very unattractive urge to brag.
It looked incredible. A thousand different spices rose from the plates in a complex, beautiful harmony. Hermione had to close her eyes and take a deep breath of appreciation. The kitchen had outdone themselves. Again.
Hermione hadn't really known what Lucius would like, so she'd ordered pretty much the whole menu. Just to be safe. With her new budget in mind, it probably hadn't been the best idea.
There were platters of samosas and naan bread with little saucers of mango chutney and yoghurt. Dhal and murg makhani. Jalfrezi. Biryani and rogan josh. All steaming and, in some cases, actually sizzling. With so many dishes and with such generous servings, the staff had struggled to fit it on the table.
The look on her boyfriend's face made it completely worth it. Lucius was looking down at it with a mixture of aghast horror and mouth-watering anticipation.
"That's for both of us." She clarified. "I hope you don't mind, but I think this sort of food really is best shared."
Lucius murmured his assent, and continued his assessment of the food. He seemed… confused, but very interested. It was a good start.
Hermione asked, "Alright, Lucius, can I assume you've probably never eaten Indian food before?"
"Never. I am starting to see that this was an oversight on my part."
Hermione considered, and pointed to the rogan josh. "Take my advice; don't have this one. Their grandma makes it, and she always makes it as hot as she can."
He nodded. "As you say. What would you recommend?"
"The dahl and the jalfrezi- that's these two here. And you've got to try the naan, here you go-"
Lucius sat and waited patiently as she arranged plates and bowls for him. She made sure the milder dishes were nearer to him. The waiters brought them more drinks, and after numerous prompts from her, he started eating.
His first few tries prompted some very strange expressions on his face, as if he had no idea what he was tasting. Still, he went back for a tentative second try, then with greater and greater confidence. Soon his eyes were shining as he ate.
He liked it. Thank God. A part of her had been afraid that he would hate it.
Curiously, Hermione asked, "Lucius, how is it that you've never had Indian food?"
He didn't seem to mind the question. "My father was very proud of our French heritage. I don't think I had a single English meal until I started at Hogwarts. Even now, if I were at home, you would be more likely to see me eating bouillabaisse or bourdin noir than anything else."
"But you like English food now, though?" Hermione asked.
"As with most things, appreciation grows with time. Now, will you please start? If you wait much longer, I will be in danger of being eaten."
Hermione smiled sweetly. "The night's still young, Lucius. There's still plenty of time for that."
Lucius laughed. She didn't, but she did keep smiling. Finally he blushed and turned his gaze away from her, and back to his meal.
Hermione continued to watch him between mouthfuls. He ate with easy grace. Small mouthfuls, carefully chosen. More like a dance than a simple meal. Since she'd left most of the milder foods for him, she took an ample serving of the rogan josh. She didn't mind at all. It was one of her favourite dishes.
He looked at Marigold's book from where it lay in its case at her side. "I have to admit, I'm surprised you're not reading already."
Hermione shook her head. "With all this food nearby? I wouldn't risk it." The second I have a moment alone, though…
"I trust you'll let me know what you think of it?"
Hermione winked at him. "I'll write you a summary, if you like."
He smirked. "I look forward to it."
She saw Lucius giving the josh an inquisitive glance, and she could barely get out the word, "Wait-!", before he'd speared a mouthful and taken a bite. Hermione gasped loudly enough that half the room stopped and stared.
For a long moment, there was no change. As though he'd had a piece of toast. Then Lucius Malfoy's face went a deep, burning red.
He coughed. He spluttered. Hermione jumped out of her seat and fluttered over to him.
"Oh Lucius, you complete idiot, didn't I tell you it was hot?"
Between gasps, he choked out, "I didn't think you meant it was dragonfire."
A cooling spell would have fixed the problem straightaway, but they were surrounded by muggles. Frantic, she grabbed a napkin and started waving it in front of his face. It didn't seem to help very much. He loosened his tie, sucking in air. His throat was somehow an even brighter shade of red than his face.
Only he could look gorgeous while so... flustered.
A waiter came and laughed at them good naturedly, and poured them another drink. She had never seen Lucius snatch anything before. It was so crass. But he snatched that drink right out of the waiters hand and downed it in one gulp.
"By Merlin's star-strewn hat." Lucius croaked. "That is good."
"What, really?" Hermione said.
Hermione was far from a culinary expert, but the general understanding was that when people enjoyed eating something, they didn't usually turn red in the face and start hacking and coughing.
"It is. Quite superb." Still red-faced, Lucius picked up his fork and went for another helping.
She reached out to stay his hand. There was no point in him pushing himself. He'd practically gone into cardiac arrest just from a single mouthful.
Hermione stopped.
Ron had never done this. Not once. He'd never taken himself out of his comfort zone for her. He'd turned his nose up at her cooking, at her favourite books and music, at… everything. Everything that mattered to her except magic, and even then, he'd been jealous and petty about that too.
Even if Lucius wasn't doing it to impress her… even if he was genuinely enjoying it… but that only made it better, didn't it? If he genuinely enjoyed something that she shared with him.
It shouldn't have meant much. This was just a restaurant, and this was just food. It meant a lot to her. It meant everything.
Hermione realised that she had been staring. Worse; she could feel a gormless smile spreading on her face. The sort that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
She snapped herself out of it, and saw that he'd been staring at her with a raised eyebrow.
She got a funny feeling he was about to say something very clever, so she cut him off. "Okay, you're sure?"
Lucius nodded casually, but she saw him draw himself up a little taller in his chair. Like a man preparing for battle.
She tore off a chunk of naan and dipped it into the mint yoghurt.
"If you're eating really hot food and you're not used to it, don't drink so much water. It just makes your next bite as hot as the first one. Have something like this instead."
She'd held up the naan to his lips before she realised what she'd done. Her ears felt very hot, all of a sudden. She almost pulled back when he leaned forward, met her eyes, and had a bite.
"How is it?" She said, ignoring the tremble in her voice.
"Better. Thank you."
"Now let's try the josh again…" She ripped off another bit of naan, dipped it in the sauce.
He had a bite, and after a moment an appreciative smile bloomed on his face.
His eyes met hers. "Delicious."
Hermione and Lucius walked down the street hand in hand. The Singing Tree was tucked under Lucius' arm, and Hermione held the precious book to her chest.
They didn't really have anywhere in mind. That didn't particularly matter. Being in one another's company was enough for now, and it was a beautiful evening.
Hermione had an idea. "You know what's really good after Indian food?"
Seriously, Lucius said, "Tell me."
"Ice cream."
One of Lucius' hands fled to his stomach, and he gave a piteous groan. Hermione laughed. She pulled him tight against her side.
"Okay, Lucius. Let's go home."
Lucius apparated them to Hogsmeade. The streets were practically empty; it had gotten late all of a sudden. The moon hung pale in the sky.
Hermione shed her illusion with a sigh of relief. There was just no substitute for being yourself.
Together they walked up to the castle. It was hard going, at first, but after a while Hermione felt the benefit of the exercise. They had eaten quite a bit. She felt a little sorry for Lucius, though. After a while, the Tree became too heavy and awkward for him to carry, so he charmed it to float by his side instead.
They crossed the bridge to the school in comfortable silence, and were in the courtyard before they knew it.
Lucius suggested. "It is a muggle custom, I believe, that after a date the gentleman should walk the lady to her door. To protect her from evil, as I understand."
Hermione scoffed. "Hogwarts is the safest place in the whole world, Lucius."
"I am sure it is." He said. "And yet, tradition is tradition."
Lucius gave a little nod in the direction of her tower, as if to say, shall we go?
Hermione hesitated.
He wouldn't be asking to escort her to her bedroom door. In this context, he could only mean her office. Unfortunately, it was an absolute pigsty.
This morning she'd realised that she had no more Owl treats for Atlas. The temper tantrum he'd thrown when he came to the same realisation had been prodigious, even by his standards. She'd only cleaned up the absolute worst of it before she'd needed to leave for their date. In the joy of the day, she'd completely forgotten about it.
Until now.
They'd had a wonderful time. She definitely didn't want to end it with him getting the wrong idea about her hygiene standards. She also didn't want him to feel obligated to help her clean it all up, as he no doubt would. He was, after all, a gentleman.
Most importantly, she absolutely didn't want to kill the mood.
Hermione improvised.
"That's a very outdated and sexist custom, Lucius. These days, muggle women walk men to their doors."
Another man might have asked for some sort of explanation. Lucius Malfoy didn't.
"I see." Lucius nodded. "Then I shall consider myself protected. Lead on."
She walked him down through the dungeons. The students they passed took little notice of them. They were, after all, adults. Worse, they were teachers. No student would assume that they were up to anything interesting without very good reason.
They had almost reached his office when she realised that she hadn't needed any directions. The labyrinthine dungeons were becoming more and more familiar to her. She was noticing the differences between one section of the tunnels and the next; the slight changes in the curve and colour of the walls, the freshness of the air, the temperature.
They stood outside the emerald door with it's silver knocker. Indecision stirred, until she just decided to go for it.
Hermione held up her hand, fingers curled and pointing downwards, right up to Lucius' forehead. She had to stand on her tiptoes to do it.
Lucius Malfoy blinked in surprise. Then a slow smile curled his lips.
"Hermione Granger," He said delightedly, "that is old fashioned."
He took her hand and pressed it to his forehead before kissing her fingers.
It was only meant to be a sign of respect. It didn't feel that way. Perhaps it was because of the way his mouth lingered on her fingers for just a moment longer than was surely necessary. It might have been the look in his eyes. As if he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and thought it was funny. Like they were sharing a joke.
Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just her, wanting him.
There was a little empty moment. If he'd been a muggle, he probably would have invited her in. They might have shared some of his fantastic whiskey. They could have been alone for the first time all day. She could have snuggled up with him on his sofa, and one thing might have led to another.
It didn't happen. Instead he looked down at her, eyes soft and warm.
They didn't have the same upbringing. The things she assumed he knew, he had no idea of. He didn't realise that this was the part of the date where he was meant to invite her in, and they could have the opportunity to be intimate with one another.
But he didn't know, and so he didn't ask, and she didn't push him. He adored her. That was more than enough.
She craned up again to kiss his cheek.
"Lucius. I had a really wonderful time. Thank you."
"As did I."
"Are you going to the Head Club tomorrow?"
"Yes. Will I see you there?"
"You will."
By their feet, the Singing Tree started to hum.
Well... what did you think? Poor Hermione. She just wants a good dicking, gods love her. Failing that, priceless magical artefacts and plants will do, I guess. For now.
Sorry if this chapter was a bit exposition heavy and dense! I promise that part two will have its slice of life moments as well, though by the looks of things less so than part one!
Next chapter will be a bit later than usual as it's very action heavy and action isn't my strong suit. I'll give you a hint... particular readers have asked for it! :D Hope you enjoy!
I also have a Valentine's Day chapter almost finished, but it comes after next chapter so unfortunately it won't be ready in time for the actual day. Sorry about that, guys. But better late than never, I guess?
Thanks so much for reading, stay safe and dream of Lumione!