She was everywhere.
Everywhere.
Every time he stepped out of the Manor, he saw her.
Diagon Alley. Gringotts. The Cafe — his cafe.
And hers and Draco's constant attention in The Daily Prophet had given him reason to completely forgo the trashy rag.
He was proud of his son of course, and by default Ms Granger's work alongside him gave Lucius pause to consider that she harboured no ill-will towards Draco, and potentially himself. But the constant images of her had begun to disrupt his thoughts.
And the spectacle in the shower that morning…
He'd been like granite, waking up from a dream, panting and covered in sweat. She'd been under him, her soft thighs pressed against his ribs while he slid back and forth inside her. He could feel the warmth of her body wrapped around his, taste the salt on her skin, smell the perfume she wore. He'd touched her everywhere; the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast, the tiny freckle on her shoulder. He'd kissed her, and she'd kissed him back. She'd come around his cock with a cry of his name. He'd come inside her with a rough groan, then woken twisted in the bedsheets, shouting her name in the empty room.
He'd groaned in disgust at the mess on his stomach, even more horrified at his still-twitching cock. He'd still been hard, still wound like a spring, his balls tight and heavy and searching for another release. He'd tried to ignore the raging ache as he stood under the tepid water of the shower, the coolness doing nothing to calm his body. He was worked up in a way he hadn't been in years. Narcissa was the only woman who had ever had this effect on him, and it hadn't been since his teen years that a morning wank in the shower was necessary.
And as hard as he tried, it was no longer Narcissa's face that saw when he closed his eyes.
He started out slow, imagining those chestnut eyes watching him, staring directly into his, never dropping to watch his hand. The effect was more erotic; her face watching his, unblinking, the tiny curve of her lips making her all the more seductive. She wasn't naked — not quite — dressed in a white lace bra and knickers, and slowly becoming soaked as the water tumbled over her.
Lucius opened his eyes and stared at the grey stone of the shower wall. He shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be picturing her. Shouldn't be imagining all the filthy things he wanted to do to her, when just days ago he wanted nothing to do with her.
He blamed that damned freckle. The one that caught his eye when her top shifted. The tiny imperfection on her otherwise perfect skin. He wanted to run his tongue over the dark fleck, wanted to own that tiny piece of her.
Wanted to place her hands on the stone wall and fuck her from behind.
He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. No. No, no, no, no, no. This wasn't right. She was Draco's age, she was his son's friend and colleague, and Lucius knew she wasn't interested in him in the slightest.
Murmuring Narcissa's name, he tried to force the image of his late wife into his mind, tried to picture her blonde hair, her blue eyes, the wicked smile she had reserved only for him. He imagined her voice, urging him on, and he began to move his hand again. He was hard; harder than he had been in a long time. But he knew it wasn't because of Narcissa.
The image had already slipped.
The white lace was drenched, becoming transparent under the slew of water. Her pink nipples were tight and his mouth watered at the thought of what they would feel like against his tongue.
"Fuck," he grunted, starting to pump himself harder.
Wet lace and skin and curls — elongated, nearly black curls, stretched out by the weight of the water. A flushing face, even as she confidently met his eyes. And then she was touching herself too, working her own clit, her fingers rubbing over the lace. Her lips parted, releasing a needy moan.
Somehow, he didn't have the control she did. He looked down, desperate to see the way she touched herself — the things she liked. He wanted to learn her, to please her, to memorise every inch of her skin and the sounds she would make when he touched her here or there.
He wanted to know what made her scream and beg for more.
Nearly all of his senses were working together, making the fantasy seem so real. The water from the shower cascaded over his skin, and his hand was stroking along his shaft. He could imagine what she looked like in a bra and knickers, could hear her voice clearly in his mind, could remember the pleasured hum she'd made when she ate her dessert. The scent of her shampoo — or perfume — had lingered with him long after they'd parted.
There was one unknown variable left, and the very thought of it brought his orgasm closer.
Taste.
What did she taste like?
Her skin, the freckle, her cunt...
What would it feel like to fall to his knees and taste her?
His eyes flew open just as he came, his groan a mixture of pleasure and frustration.
Fall to his knees.
That damned prophecy.
"So, have you done the nasty with him yet?"
Harry groaned, but Hermione had expected Pansy's greeting. She'd been far too invested in Hermione's interest in Lucius and her crudeness had only become worse as the weeks passed.
Hermione slumped into the armchair by the fireplace and looked at Harry for help.
"Pans, maybe we should go a bit easy on her," he said in the gentle manner he used when dealing with his fiery wife. "Let her explain why she's here before we pounce."
"We know why she's here." Pansy sat on the couch opposite her, a huge grin on her face. "She finally landed her dream man and she wants to share all the filthy details."
"I've not landed anything!" Hermione snapped, her building frustration finally bursting out. "Nothing's happened, and I can't see anything ever happening. He's not shown the slightest interested in me other than to be polite."
"Didn't you just spend the day in his library?" Harry asked.
"I did, but all that happened was that I read books all day. He occasionally summoned a house-elf for food and drinks, but I wouldn't call that anything but being a good host."
"So, you didn't even talk to him?" Pansy looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "How is this supposed to work if you don't tell him how you feel?"
"We talked, just not about anything other than books. And it's still a bit awkward, especially since our first date wasn't even a date, it was a stupid bet. He probably felt forced to interact with me."
"I don't think that's true," Harry said. "This was your first time back in the Manor since…"
He trailed off with a glance at her arm. The red scar had faded but it was still visible. She rarely took any notice of it — the ugly mark had become a part of her life — but maybe Lucius had given it more thought than she did.
"I probably should have covered it up."
"Don't you dare," Pansy warned. "He needs to remember what happened to you."
"I thought you wanted this to work out between us. This probably just reminded him why he hates me."
"Hermione, he doesn't hate you," Harry stated calmly. "I saw how he was with you at the magazine shoot. He wouldn't have spoken to anyone—"
"That was the bet," Hermione said with an implied d'uh.
"He wouldn't have spoken to anyone, if you hadn't been there. He didn't speak to them because of a bet you made, he spoke to everyone because you were there."
"Harry's right," Pansy agreed. "Lucius Malfoy doesn't do anything he doesn't want to. He did that for you. He wanted to win that bet so he could have dinner with you."
"Maybe, but he doesn't seem at all interested in me. Not in that way."
"He's a Malfoy. He's not likely to see what's right in front of him." Pansy leaned forward and pointed her finger at Hermione. "He needs some prodding. You need to take control. You need to let him know how you feel."
"And completely embarrass myself when he rejects me?"
"He won't reject you. Katie said she thought Lucius might actually believe the prophecy. Apparently he mentioned it while having dinner with them a few nights ago." Pansy grinned. "I guess I do a pretty good impression of Trelawney."
"And me being glamoured as Mr Smith…" Harry snorted. "I'm surprised Draco held it together."
"I still can't believe you convinced Kingsley to act as the Keeper of The Hall!"
"Kingsley would do anything for his favourite witch."
Harry and Pansy both began to laugh, but Hermione's stomach lurched at the thought of what they'd done.
Draco had realised quickly her feelings towards his father. Her questions regarding what Lucius had been up to hadn't been covert enough. Draco had played along at first, answering her daily questions, but he had finally cracked and made her confess why she was asking.
Much to her shock, Draco hadn't been at all put off by the fact she was admitting she was enamoured with his father. Instead, he was completely supportive, going so far as to telling her Lucius' weekly routine; his favourite cafes, where he met for business lunches, the fact that he loved the white chocolate and raspberry truffle ice cream at Florian Fortescue's.
She'd felt like a stalker the first time she followed him along Diagon Alley. She'd kept her distance, watching his back as he strolled along the busy street. It had been another month before she actually entered the cafe and sat at the furthest table away from him, hoping he wouldn't notice her, but also hoping he would.
When Draco confronted her as to why he hadn't yet seen them together, she admitted she couldn't just ask Lucius out. She wasn't terrified of him, just his reaction.
That was when Draco came up with his hair-brained plan. A fake prophecy, predicting the coming together of the Brightest Witch and a closed-minded pureblood. Of course, Pansy wanted in on the game, as did Harry and Katie. And Hermione wasn't surprised when Kingsley agreed to help out; she knew he'd do anything for her. He'd wanted her to join him at the Ministry after the war as his right-hand woman. But politics wasn't for her.
Hermione was the only one who hadn't loved the idea. She told them all she just needed more time to talk to him, but they would have none of it. So she had reluctantly gone along with it.
But now she hated it.
"Hermione, it'll be fine. I know Lucius, and he will only laugh," Pansy reassured her. "He'll think it a great joke you went to all this trouble for him."
"And when he learns we're all very supportive of this, I know he'll be completely fine," Harry added.
Hermione was grateful for their enthusiasm, but the ominous feeling still sat heavy on her shoulders. She was sure the longer this charade went on, the harder it would backfire.
"Hello, Lucius."
Before he even turned, he knew their paths had crossed again.
"Good afternoon, Ms Granger. Shouldn't you be at St Mungo's?"
She shook her head. "I took the day off. I couldn't take another afternoon of people fawning over me. Draco said he'd handle the delegation from Seattle."
"I'm sure he's soaking up the positive attention," Lucius quipped. "So what brings you to Diagon Alley? I'm sure you won't escape attention here."
She ran a hand through her curls. "Honestly? I'm just passing through. I'm going to head out into Muggle London, but I had to take care of something at Gringotts and they're less than accommodating for me."
Remembering the way she had masqueraded as Bellatrix, he decided to continue teasing her.
"Well, to be fair, you did break in and rob them. They spent a lot of time reinforcing their wards and retraining everyone to resist the Imperius Curse after the war."
Huffing, she replied, "You know I had no choice."
When she started walking again, Lucius fell into step beside her, their strides in perfect sync. "I've no doubt," he said seriously. "And I'm eternally grateful for what you did. I'm simply pointing out that you upset the goblins and made them break from their traditions."
"Seems I do that a lot," Hermione responded. "I got Draco to break his."
"That you did."
As they approached The Leaky Cauldron, Lucius didn't break away and go in another direction. He found himself opening the door for her and following her into the pub, but she didn't question it.
"Where are you heading specifically?" he asked.
Hermione smiled and waved to the landlady. "I'm just going to do some shopping."
"Shopping? What could you possibly need that you can't get in Diagon Alley?"
Laughing, she replied, "Oh, there's plenty you can't get in the wizarding world."
"Such as?"
She slowly trailed her eyes over him, taking in his dark suit. Her hand raised to his neatly tied cravat, and she tugged on it slightly. "Well, Lucius, maybe I could show you how good you'd look in Muggle clothes."
"I see nothing wrong with how I'm dressed," he replied with a huff. "A well attired gentleman has respect for himself."
"I agree, but is this what you wear at home?" She looked him over once more. "Because this doesn't look particularly comfortable to lounge around in."
"Lounge around?" He frowned, perplexed and she laughed.
"Oh, you don't do that?" She pursed her lips to stifle her laughter. "Or have you never heard that term before?"
"I believe the term I would use would be relax," he answered, his face fighting the expression of distaste at her assumption he wasn't aware of Muggle slang.
"No, I would use relax in a whole different context." She nodded her thanks as he held open the outer door to the pub, the one that would set them into Muggle London. "Relaxing to me is soaking in a hot bath, with oils and bubbles and a glass of red."
Lucius fought once more to keep his expression straight; naked in her bath wasn't what he needed to visualise while he was in public.
"Lounging around implies comfy clothes, a book, a cup of tea, and the couch."
"I'm quite comfortable in these clothes," he said. "I don't understand why you take issue with my attire."
"I don't take issue with your attire. I understand completely that you need to look businesslike when you're out, but why do you need to at home?"
"And how is it you know what I wear in my home?"
"Because it took Katie and me months to get Draco to wear anything but a suit. And Katie informed me that he only took it off for bed." She winked at him and he had to look away.
If she only knew what he slept in… or didn't sleep in.
"Well, Ms Granger." He stopped at her smirk and corrected, "Hermione. Maybe I should accompany you since you're so knowledgeable as to men's attire. Maybe I should allow you to dress me."
It was his turn to be smug as she glanced quickly away from him. He'd chosen his turn of phrase deliberately to gauge her reaction. He'd been wondering at her sudden appearance everywhere he went, and he was beginning to suspect why.
He wasn't sure it was possible; she was half his age, and she once despised him. But her sudden presence in his life had been cause for him to rethink his own attitude to his life. Not his former hatred of all things Muggle, but his disinterest in the opposite sex.
Narcissa had been gone for almost a decade, and he'd not once entertained the idea of seeking another. She had been the woman who had shown him what true love was, and he could never replace those feelings. But this fiery young woman strolling casually beside him was making it difficult to not betray his sense of loyalty to the woman he thought would be his only love.
"I'd be more than happy to assist you, Lucius."
Her smile had returned, her composure regained, and he knew he had possibly just sold his soul to a Siren.
"You don't mind riding the Tube, do you?" she asked as they approached the station.
He winced. Muggle transportation. His only experience with it was at King's Cross, when he travelled by train to Hogwarts, and then to assist Draco to do the same. But he wouldn't let her see his unfamiliarity with the London trains and held his head high.
"I'm sure it will be fine."
"Do you have Muggle money?"
"I do."
Her eyes went wide in surprise. "Really? You carry Muggle money?"
"It might surprise you even more to know I always have." He tapped his chest, "I may have been… averse… to the Muggles but I wasn't so stupid to know that keeping a vast sum of my money in Muggle institutions was wise."
"Makes sense," she said and winked. "Kept it hidden from your old boss, hey?"
"Indeed it did. And because of his blindness to all things Muggle, he was unable to use the Malfoy fortune to build his own."
"You're more devious than I thought."
"Am I?" he asked mockingly. "Are you not the girl who has broken many rules over the course of your young life as a witch?"
"Ah, but my breaking the rules was for the good of society, not for self gain." She paused and watched as he fished his wallet from inside his jacket, pulling out several fifty pound notes, and she frowned. "That's way too much. It's fine. I'll pay this time."
"Ms Granger—"
"Don't go all chivalrous on me, you can buy me lunch. Now, wait here."
Lucius watched as she made her way across the station, conversed for a minute with a woman behind a counter, then returned with a small card.
"You need that to get on the train." She swiped her card across the turnstile and stepped through, indicating he should do the same.
He mimicked her actions, then turned back to watch the turnstiles, a fascinated expression in his face. These Muggles knew more about magic than he gave them credit for. That little card had the power to do many wondrous things.
"How does that work?" he asked as they awaited the arrival of their transport. "That tiny card allows you to travel anywhere?"
"It does. Not as efficient as Apparition, but since we can't just appear out of nowhere in the middle of London, we have to take the train. Old fashioned, I know, but we don't have much choice."
Unthinking, Lucius placed his hand on her lower back as the train arrived and the doors slid open. "Yes, well, some old-fashioned values are still held in high regard."
"And some of those old-fashioned values are appreciated."
They rode the train in companionable silence, Lucius marvelling at more of the Muggle magic around him. The underground tunnel the train sped through. The complete nonchalance with which the people around him rode. The loud voice that seemed to come out of nowhere every time they reached another station. And while the journey was slower than he cared for, it had been of great interest.
When they emerged from their stop, Hermione explained they had a short walk to their destination.
"You're loaded, right?" she asked with a wicked smirk.
"If you mean well off, then yes, I have sufficient funds for any clothing you think I might require."
"Perfect," she said and, much like he did in the Tube station, she looped her arm through his without a thought.
She guided him along the street, and he had to wonder if she'd cast some kind of avoidance charm since everyone around them seemed to clear a path as they made their way past shops the likes he'd never seen before. Clothing, food, watches, jewellery, bags, leather goods, even house furniture. He was well aware of the Muggle world, but only on the periphery of his life. He'd known it was vastly different from the wizarding world, but not on the scale he was now seeing.
"Almost there," Hermione said, pointing ahead to the next block, her arm still firmly looped around his. "I hope you're ready for this."
"Are you planning on depleting my entire fortune on clothes?"
"Not your entire fortune, just a large chunk of it." She paused at the kerb, checking both ways before leading him across the road. "And this is where we'll be spending it!"
She stopped in front of a large shopfront. Emporio Armani the sign read and Lucius grinned; Armani had been the name inside his suits for ten years. The designer had apparently discovered the wizarding world through the American market, and much like the man himself and his need for privacy, he kept the wizarding world a secret.
"You shop here, don't you?" Hermione shot him an incredulous look.
"No, I've never stepped foot inside this shop." Lucius explained. "I get Mr Armani's suits tailor made and delivered to my home."
"Of course you do." She glanced up and down the street. "I'll take you somewhere else."
"No, please," Lucius grabbed her hand as she began to walk away. "I know these clothes. I appreciate how well made they are."
"You're not buying more suits. That's not why you came shopping with me. You wanted me to dress you."
"I did say that, and—" he indicated towards the doors "—I'm sure Mr Armani has more than suits in his shop."
She looked at the doors and then back to him. "I doubt Mr Armani will be in here. But, if we walk in there and they ask if you're here for a new suit, we're leaving."
"I can agree to those terms." He held the door open. "But rest assured, this will be the first time I've ever been here."
"Fine," Hermione huffed and entered the shop.
They were greeted with an assistant who had an expression that said he couldn't believe his luck. Lucius oozed money, he knew he did, but he wouldn't be throwing it away just because Hermione and the sales assistant were smiling sweetly at him.
"How can I help you today?" the assistant asked.
"My… friend needs a new look. He lives in suits, even when he's home and needs something a little more casual," Hermione explained.
He clapped his hands and two more assistants appeared, and suddenly Lucius was being directed across the shop, clothes appearing seemingly from nowhere. Shirts that were neither his usual white or black piled up. Trousers that looked like the jeans his son was always wearing were added to the pile, as were several soft-looking jumpers.
Hermione held her hand up, stopping his protest. "At least give them a chance. Try them on, and if you don't like them, you can stick to your boring suits."
He barked out a laugh, "I do not see you allowing me to leave without at least one purchase."
"Best you start stripping then."
"Out here?"
"Entirely your choice," she replied with a smile.
Lucius shook his head at her sass, grabbing the first three items and disappearing into the dressing room. He scowled at the clothes, wondering why in Merlin's name did he agree to this.
Do you think this is some kind of romantic prophecy?
Draco's words were loud inside his head, but they spoke the truth. Lucius had come to believe the prophecy he had thought insane was actually accurate. The time he had spent with her had been enjoyable. She was as Draco had repeatedly told him; intelligent and well read. She could converse easily about any subject he brought up, and she'd even caught him out with new information and research on various topics he thought he was up to date with.
Sighing, he began to undress. He knew exactly why he was doing this, and she was sitting on the other side of the door.
He took the shirt from the hanger, deciding since it was the item he was most familiar with, he would start with it. The dark blue was unlike any colour he would have chosen, but he would humour her. He was certain he would look ridiculous and her shopping adventure would come to end, enabling him to return to his usual attire. He hesitated at the jeans; they didn't look comfortable in the slightest. They were heavier than his trousers, and didn't look like they would allow him easy movement, but he reminded himself of his goal.
Hermione Granger.
He repeated her name inside his head and pulled the jeans on, surprised to find they were more comfortable than he had assumed. The jumper was next and once more he was pleasantly surprised to find it fitted perfectly.
His reflection in the mirror, however, shocked him.
He wasn't prepared for the drastic change in his appearance. The grey of the jumper, and the deep blues of the shirt and jeans seemed to make him appear younger. And the clothes were so well tailored, they showed off the fact he took great care of himself.
"Lucius?" Hermione's voice called. "Everything okay?"
"Yes. Everything's fine. I'm just…" He took a breath and stepped out of the dressing room.
"Wow."
Hermione stood before him, her eyes wide and her jaw slack. He hoped it was a good sign.
"You look… wow." She tilted her head to one side. "Turn around."
Lucius did as he was asked, frowning at the small gasp he heard. "No?"
"Oh, definitely not no," she said and the assistants agreed. "Who knew you had an arse."
Lucius spun around. "Excuse me?"
"You look amazing, Lucius. You should definitely show off what Merl—the good lord gave you."
"You're sure about this?"
Her smile was a heady mix of sweet and devious. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."
With his wallet significantly lighter, and with the numerous parcels of clothing being sent to his home, they left the shop and began their return journey along the busy street.
Her initial reaction had caught him off guard. Asking him to turn around then admiring his backside had been an embarrassment he'd not been prepared for. But there had also been a look of lust in her eyes when he first stepped out of the dressing room, a look that sparked his own base feelings. But she'd been sparking those feelings in him since they first had dinner with Draco and Katie. And while he was flattered by her attention, flattered by the thought she was even entertaining the idea of him as something more than just Draco's father, he wasn't sure he could act upon it.
She was the wizarding world's golden girl. Brightest witch. Member of the Golden trio. And he was still looked at with contempt even though it was common knowledge he had assisted the Order in bringing down the Dark Lord. The intrigue and questions would be intrusive to say the least.
But he was drawn to her. Drawn by a prophecy he had not believed in. A prophecy that put Sybil Trelawney's correct predictions at three.
"Weren't you planning on some shopping of your own?" he asked when he realised they were headed back in the direction of the train station.
"I was," she replied. "But I can come back another day."
"Hermione, I've disrupted your entire day." Lucius wrapped his hand around her elbow and halted their stroll.
"I.. ah… was actually going to stop in here." She pointed to the lingerie shop they had stopped in front of.
Lucius wasn't sure where to look. He wasn't a prude; he'd purchased a great many sets of lingerie for Narcissa over the years they had been married. But the reason he couldn't look was, the mannequin in the shop window was wearing the white lace he'd imagined seeing Hermione in.
"Oh, right. I'll just leave you to it. I'm sure there's a hidden spot along this street I can safely Apparate from. Or I could just find a cafe and wait for—"
"Lucius, it's fine. I'm not sure your delicate constitution would survive knowing I'd been trying on lingerie."
"I was more concerned you'd ask me to watch."
"Are you saying you wouldn't want to?"
"I'm not sure our friendship extends to underwear."
"Is that what we are?" she asked. "Friends?"
"We are friendlier than we used to be, so I assumed." Lucius spoke quickly, the small scowl on her face made him nervous. "And in my knowledge of you and your Hogwarts companions, I would prefer you to be a friend."
"Friends." Her scowl shifted to a strained smile, and he still sensed he may have said the wrong thing. "Yes, I guess we are friends."
She began to walk again, and Lucius fell into step beside her, wondering what he should say to fix the mess he had just made. His suspicions were confirmed by her scowl; friends was definitely not what she thought this was.
But they had reached the station by the time he had decided what to say, and there were too many people on the platform to properly voice his sentiments.
She took the only vacant seat on the train and Lucius stood facing her, his arm stretched up to hold the overhead rail. He didn't even try to hide his line of sight as she crossed one leg over the other, her skirt riding up and exposing several inches of her thigh. He expected her to cover herself — especially since they were in public — but she simply smiled and allowed him to look.
Her own eyes wandered, trailing down the buttons on his jacket to the place where the hem rose above his belt. Her eyes fell on the front of his trousers, and like herself, he allowed her to look. She licked her lips and he noted her fingers curling into a fist against her thigh.
Did she want to touch him?
Lucius averted his gaze. If she did want to touch him, he couldn't think about it right now. Not while they were surrounded by a train carriage packed with people. He didn't need for her — for anyone around him — to see the effect she was having on him.
And then he felt her hand on his waist.
He glanced down; she'd looped her finger through the belt loop on his trousers and was smiling up at him.
"You looked good in those clothes."
"They are surprisingly comfortable." He covered her hand with his, brushing the pad of his thumb over the inside of her wrist. "I am pleased I have your approval."
"I think you'll have everyone's approval."
"It's not everyone's approval I'm seeking."
Her eyes widened momentarily and her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her reaction was subtle but it told him everything. He'd not been imagining anything. Being friends was definitely not what she wanted.
He kept his hand on her wrist, kept his eyes on hers for the remainder of the journey. She didn't flinch under his gaze, instead she seemed to enjoy it.
When they rose from the station into the late morning sun, Lucius had to pause to take in their surroundings.
"This is not where we began our journey."
"No, it's not," she agreed. "We took a different line and my house is just a few blocks away. You can Apparate safely from there."
He offered his arm to her and she accepted it with an easy smile, and as with their walk through London's busy shopping district, they chatted as they meandered along the leafy streets towards her home.
"You've chosen quite the picturesque area to reside in," he noted. And while he knew she was well equipped to protect herself — the wards surrounding her house were sure to be impenetrable — he was glad the suburb appeared safe and quiet.
"I was — I'm not sure fortunate is the right word — but my parents left me with a rather large inheritance, and with the reward the Ministry gave me, I was able to purchase a home here." She glanced around, smiling. "And considering I'm only twenty-five, this area would have definitely been out my reach without the money."
"It's affluent then?"
"It's not as affluent as some areas, but it's mostly young families and single professionals. I like it here. It's safe and quiet, and while my home might not be the grandest in the neighbourhood, it's mine."
His relief was immediate when she confirmed his thoughts. Safe and quiet. It was what she needed; her short life had already had more than enough of danger and noise.
They rounded a corner and she pointed out her home, across the street and a few doors up. The house was simple; two floors with what appeared to be an attic in the roof. White window frames, light grey walls, and a black shingled roof. It was neat and tidy, and appeared to share a wall with its neighbour. But that seemed to be the norm along the street; houses paired together in sets like twins.
"I know it's no manor house—"
"It doesn't have to be. If you're comfortable here, nothing else matters."
Her cheeks turned pink at his words and she ushered him towards the front door. "You can Apparate from the back garden, it's glamoured so no one will see."
The inside of her house was as neat as the outside. The staircase on the right headed up to the next floor, and an archway to the left opened the living room and kitchen into the hallway that led straight to the back door. He followed her as she headed that way, shoving down the disappointment that she wouldn't ask him to stay.
"I've had a most enjoyable day," he said with a nod of thanks; his life-long manners kicking in automatically. "It has become a pleasure to be your friend, Hermione."
"I think we're more than friends, Lucius." She spoke so quietly he was sure he had heard her incorrectly. "At least, that's what I want."
He faltered at her words, his hand stilling on the doorknob, and he turned to face her.
"What you want?"
"I think it's what you want too."
Her embarrassment dropped her eyes to the floor, and without a second thought, he reached out and traced his fingertips along her cheek, lifting her face to his, her tiny shiver at his touch making him smile.
"It is very much what I want." He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. "So today's outing was just a charade to get me to come to your home?"
"No! Of course not!" she exclaimed in horror, then rolled her eyes at his smirk. "You were joking."
"I have been enjoying your company, Hermione. Much more than I ever thought I would. And, like you, I don't wish to just be your friend."
He tucked her hair over her shoulder, his fingers tracing along the side of her throat, his hand curled around the back of her neck. His gaze snapped to her lips as her tongue peeked out, wetting her lips in anticipation. A possessive feeling came over him, raw and needy, and he knew without a doubt he would absolutely fall to his knees for her.
"Lucius? Are you—"
His mouth was on hers before she could speak another word, his arm wrapping around her as she stumbled backwards with the force of his kiss.
A burst of fire, sparks of light, heart thumping. It was all there. And when her arms wrapped around his neck, he was gone.
He took complete control, claiming her as his own with a possessive surge. Her back met the wall and he followed, pressing his entire body against hers, his tongue sliding deeply into her mouth. The aching emptiness his life had become was painfully apparent in this one moment. Why he had so stubbornly refused to even entertain the idea of having another woman in his life now seemed absurd.
The prophecy had been correct. His son had been correct. She was exactly what he hadn't known he wanted.
But, he couldn't have her now.
He pulled back, her lips were red and swollen, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes dropped quickly to his lips and it took everything he had to not lift her into his arms and find the nearest bedroom.
"I must go," he breathed and disappointment fell across her face. "I'm not rejecting you, I just have to control myself around you."
Her disappointment turned to confusion. "I don't understand."
"Dinner with you was on a bet." He curled her hair behind her ear. "And today has been quite enjoyable, but not what I'd I call—"
"A proper date." She smiled up at him. "You're old fashioned and want to ask me out to dinner properly."
"I hope you're agreeable to that."
"I am very agreeable," she assured him.
"May I send an owl with details?"
"Please, that would be lovely."
Lucius kissed her once more, quickly, very unsatisfyingly. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her dark eyes, in her scent, in her body. But, he forced himself to take a step back, giving them both room to breathe.
"I very much look forward to seeing you in the coming days, Hermione." He lifted her hand and pressed a warm kiss to her fingers. "My heart and mind are no longer closed, but a lifetime of tradition is a hard habit to break, and I wish to court you in the proper pureblood manner."
A small flinch flickered across her face, but her bright smile replaced it almost as quickly as it had appeared. Was his use of pureblood upsetting? But his fears were allayed just as quickly.
"And I look forward to being courted by a proper, pureblood gentleman."