"Hermione."

Ginny reached for Hermione's shoulder just as Hermione pulled her pyjama shirt over her head. Ginny waited until Hermione turned around, and then she noted quietly,

"You were all alone at the Ball."

"Yes, I was," Hermione said, a bit sharply , "because my friend Ginny didn't seem to want anything to do with me."

"You have to understand," Ginny said, looking around to be sure none of the other girls were listening. She lowered her voice and hummed, "It's him. If it were anyone else, even Draco Malfoy, I could… I could live with it. But him, Hermione. He's evil."

"I don't think you understand him," Hermione argued. Ginny's jaw dropped.

"You really are under the influence of a terrible potion!" she argued. "Try - just try - to see sense here. Have you forgotten what Draco used to call you, trained by his father?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," Hermione mumbled. Ginny barreled on,

"Have you forgotten what it felt like to fight against him at the Department of Mysteries, to have him here at the Battle of Hogwarts on Voldemort's side until the very last minute? Have you forgotten all of that?"

"Ginny," Hermione hissed, "I can't hate him. I just can't. You don't seem to be processing the bit of this that is out of my control."

"Why did you drop that vial?" Ginny moaned, shutting her eyes and touching her forehead. "Why did you bump into him and drop the damned vial?"

"Well, do you suppose I did it on purpose?" Hermione exclaimed. "Do you suppose I wanted to like Lucius Malfoy?"

"So now it's not just not hating him. Now you like him," Ginny spat. Hermione shook her head, her eyes welling.

"You mustn't tell anyone. Ginny, swear to it that you won't tell anyone."

Ginny was silent. Hermione reached for Ginny's elbow and shook a little.

"You haven't? You haven't told anyone about it, have you?"

"I wrote to Harry the day I figured it out," Ginny muttered. Hermione felt her heart sink. She thought she would be sick right there in the dormitory, but Ginny clarified, "He wrote back and said it was a terrible accident, and he was completely horrified, but that it could have happened to anybody. He said he was sure it would work itself out with the antidote. He said he wasn't going to tell Ron, because he didn't think Ron would take it well."

"And have you told Ron?" Hermione demanded. Ginny stared at Hermione for a long moment, shaking her head, and then said,

"There's something you should know about Ron."

Hermione,

I would have told you sooner. I really would have. I know that Harry is the one who let on to Ginny what was going on. Her name is Anja Anker. She's from Copenhagen. She's come to London as a Danish representative to the Ministry. She and I met at the Ministry canteen, and she started coming with me to the Leaky Cauldron after work. I won't go into detail, but I think it's safe to say she's my girlfriend now. I'm really sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to hurt you like this. You know I'll always love you as a friend. Always. I miss you.

Ron

Hermione blinked through tears as she sat at the Gryffindor table and folded up the letter Ron had sent her. Ginny had already revealed all of this information the night earlier, but seeing it in written form from Ron himself was almost too painful to believe. Anja Anker from Denmark had stolen away the only boy Hermione had ever really wanted.

She flicked her eyes up to the Head Table to see that Lucius Malfoy was missing today from breakfast. Perhaps he'd slept in, she thought. That made her wonder what his quarters were like, and whether he was wearing pyjamas right now, and -

Stop it, Hermione, you stupid mad witch!

"Coming to Quidditch, 'Mione?" asked Sophie, and Hermione just shook her head.

"I'm spending the entire day in the library," she vowed, and she flung her bag's strap over her head and threw herself away from the bench of the table. As she stalked off, she heard Sophie say to Ginny,

"Something's got her in a twist."

"Be gentle; it's more than it seems," Ginny replied. That only made Hermione's eyes sear more, and she rushed out of the Great Hall and through the Entrance toward the staircase that led to her safe haven in this castle - the library.

"Lucius! Oh, Lucius!" Narcissa threw herself into Lucius' outstretched arms, and he bent his head and smelled lavender on her. It was a familiar scent, a comforting aroma after all these years of marriage. He kissed the top of her hair and then waited as she burrowed her face against his chest for a moment. Finally she tipped her face up and whispered, "Kiss me; I've missed you."

Lucius did as she asked, pressing his lips to hers. But he felt almost nothing when he did it. He felt no spark, no light. They were hardly newlyweds, but usually a kiss from Narcissa elicited some semblance of response. This, what was happening now with his tongue in her mouth, was almost repelling. She seemed to sense his lack of enthusiasm, and when they broke apart, Narcissa demanded,

"What have they done to you? After Azkaban, you rushed me upstairs and took me and kissed me until I couldn't breathe. Now you feel… far away."

"My mind is preoccupied. I apologise." Lucius sighed and licked his bottom lip. "Where is Draco?"

"Off with that horrid Greengrass girl," Narcissa said, taking a step back from Lucius. They were standing in the emerald drawing room, the one with the black grand piano and the elaborate Turkish rugs. Lucius looked round his Manor and realised just how paltry his rooms at Hogwarts were by comparison.

He'd only come today because Narcissa had written to him this morning that if he didn't go down to Hogsmeade and Apparate home, she'd go mad. He had come at once, determined to spend a few hours with her before returning to his post at the school. He pinched his lips as he looked around again, surveying his home.

"So he's off with Astoria," Lucius said absently. "Does she make him happy, Narcissa?"

Narcissa puffed and shrugged. "It seems so, but the girl is almost a Blood Traitor, Lucius. She says that Mudbloods should have rights, real rights! She says they should be treated…"

Narcissa trailed off and blanched. She knit her hands together and looked away. Lucius furrowed his brows and asked,

"She says they should be treated how?"

"Astoria Greengrass says," Narcissa spat angrily, "that Mudbloods should have equal opportunity for employment and the like. Same as Purebloods. She says there's no real difference as long as magical ability is considered. And Draco! He's just as badly off. He agreed with her, Lucius. He said that he knew a few Mudbloods who were more intelligent than him."

"Yes, you mentioned that in your letter," Lucius said primly. "He specified the Granger girl."

"Well. I told him… just because she had higher marks in school does not mean that she is not the enemy!" Narcissa said. "I told the both of them that until they stopped talking like that about Mudbloods, I didn't want them in the Manor. I won't have that kind of talk here, Lucius."

"You won't," Lucius nodded. "Hm. I admit, Narcissa, that I have had my own mind shifted just a little when it comes to matters such as these."

Narcissa blinked and stared at him. "I'm sorry? I… don't understand."

"I have students from all backgrounds," Lucius shrugged. "I find that their Blood status does not affect their performance in the classroom. Indeed, Miss Granger is my most eager and knowledgeable pupil, and she -"

"Have you been writing to Astoria and Draco?" Narcissa asked disbelievingly. "Have they gotten into your head somehow? I can't believe you'd speak well of that girl."

"She's astonishingly capable," Lucius shrugged, "and she really is by far my best student."

"A Mudblood, though," Narcissa snarled, her eyes flashing. "Let it not be forgotten that the girl has filthy Muggles for parents."

Lucius opened his mouth and sighed. "Narcissa, she can't help the way she was -"

"McGonagall's gotten to you, has she?" Narcissa asked, her voice going shrill. "Flitwick? One of Dumbledore's old friends. They've gotten into your head more surely than the Dementors did in Azkaban."

"Don't speak to me about things you do not understand," Lucius said through clenched teeth. He gripped his walking stick tightly and said, "You do not understand what happened to me in Azkaban. And you do not understand why my views on this issue may have shifted slightly. You can not comprehend any of it."

"Because I'm stupid. Is that it?" Narcissa asked, crossing her arms. "You think I'm too foolish to understand these things?"

"I think your mind has been corrupted over a great many years," Lucius said. "I am glad for Draco that he finally has a voice of reason telling him -"

"I think you should go back to Hogwarts." Narcissa's eyes welled heavily. She shook her head, completely shocked by all this, and she whispered, "I think you should leave now."

"Yes. That's… probably for the best." Lucius turned and started to walk out of the drawing room. Narcissa followed him and yelled,

"My husband and my son have gone completely mad! I am the only one left in this Manor with any sense of reason! I am the only one left in this family who still values our Blood for what it is!"

"And you, therefore," Lucius said, looking over his shoulder, "are very much alone."

He whirled to his right, bypassing his own security measures and Disapparating straight out of the corridor.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione looked up from the table where she was sitting, reading a copy of Centaur Archery: A History and Practical Guide. She brushed her fingers over the aged pages and gulped as Lucius Malfoy came walking into the deserted library. He pulled out a seat and sat opposite her at the table, and he smirked a little.

"Even Madam Pince has gone to Quidditch," he said, "but not you."

"Did you look for me there, sir?" Hermione scoffed, but Lucius shook his head and said softly,

"It's raining, and your old friends are no longer on the team. I thought that I might find you here, nose buried in a tome. I suspect that, last year, you missed this library."

"Yes, you're very right," Hermione said sadly. "I'll miss it once I graduate, too. I adore reading. I don't own enough books of my own."

"Malfoy Manor has a ridiculous quantity of books," Lucius sighed. "They're barely touched. Some of them are six hundred years old. Others are one-of-a-kind illuminated manuscripts of fairy tales, spellbooks enchanted by wizards a hundred years ago."

"Stop! You're making me so jealous." Hermione felt her cheeks flush as she laughed a little. "I couldn't possibly live with that many books at my constant disposal. I would always be reading."

"You mean like you are right now?" Lucius asked, and Hermione tossed her hands up.

"Centaur archery is very interesting."

"Yes, I reckon it is," Lucius said. He let out a small breath and leaned his walking stick on the table and then folded his hands. He leaned forward a little bit and suggested, "I think you and I understand one another right now better than anyone else understands either of us. I do realise that we are under the influence of a potion, but… tell me, Miss Granger. Who are your closest friends at the moment?"

Hermione remembered the letter she'd gotten from Ron this morning, and her eyes prickled. She shook her head, and Lucius continued,

"Do your Muggle parents understand this world?"

"No," she admitted. "They try, but they can't. And the rest of my family doesn't even know that I'm a witch. Aunts and uncles and cousins and all that. Grandparents. They think I'm a Muggle, like them. But I'm different."

"So you are," Lucius agreed. He tipped his head and said, "I have just come from Malfoy Manor, where I got into a rather heated discussion on the academic prowess and value of Mud… of… Muggle-born students."

Hermione blinked. He'd fought with Narcissa Malfoy about her? She swallowed past the knot in her throat and whispered,

"Then maybe you're right. Maybe nobody understands either of us."

'That isn't what I said." Lucius sniffed. "I said that we understand one another better… right now… than anyone else understands us. It is a strange situation to be in, I realise."

"You found me in this library," Hermione shrugged. "Clearly you know me well enough."

Lucius leaned back in his chair and asked lightly,

"What is the most interesting thing you've read today about Centaur archery, Miss Granger?"

"Oh. I think the most intriguing fact I've extracted is that Centaurs had Longbows three hundred years before Muggles invented them. By the time Muggles fought extensively with Longbows at the Battle of Agincourt, Centaurs were already expertly utilising them for long-distance arrow launches. Of course, they use more compact bows for hunting."

"Yes, of course." Lucius smiled a little at her, and Hermione felt her stomach flutter. Her chest felt heavy inside. She studied Lucius' features - his sharp face, his silver eyes, his flowing hair, and suddenly she wondered just what it would be like to feel his silky tresses on her skin. She had an impulsive urge to reach out and touch him, but she restrained herself. He stared right at her, though, and she knew she was giving herself away when he whispered,

"Cordial but distant, Miss Granger."

"Yes, of course." Hermione echoed his words, lowered her eyes, and turned the page of her book. She cleared her throat and resumed reading.

Centaurs are known to stand in specific positions and fire arrows at the stars in the sky in order to try and influence the future. Though they know very well that the arrows will not reach the heavens, it is believed that the effort itself to shoot a star will shape the Cosmos' neverending journey through -

"Miss Granger."

Hermione turned and then found herself staring at Lucius' black leather belt with its silver clasp. She raised her eyes and realised he'd come to stand beside her chair. She gazed up at him and murmured,

"Professor Malfoy."

He beckoned to her with one finger, and she slowly stood. She brought herself to her feet and then found herself standing awfully close to him, realising just what sort of height difference they had. She barely reached his shoulder. Suddenly that fact made her very aware of his shoulders, and she reached up to brush her knuckles over the thick velvet there. In response, his own hand came up and cupped Hermione's jaw, tipping her face up to him.

This is not cordial but distant, Hermione thought. She frantically tried telling herself that this was all the potion, that she hated him, that he was evil. She tried telling herself what Ginny had told her. But then she realised that she craved this man; she wanted him so badly she could scream.

A confused thought wormed its way through Hermione's head then. Professor Slughorn had said that the Draught of Magnes would make people friendly toward one another. It was a peace potion, not a love potion, Slughorn had asserted. So why was she feeling such powerful urges toward Lucius Malfoy, urges that seemed more than a little reciprocated?

"Miss Granger," Lucius whispered again, and when she stared into his silver eyes, she saw them flash wildly. His lips parted, and he murmured, "I do not wish to… make you uncomfortable."

"You're not," Hermione promised him, pulling herself closer to him. She squeezed at his shoulder and planted her other hand on his chest. Suddenly he was descending, turning his head just a little, and Hermione gasped. His lips brushed against hers just for a moment, and she let out an involuntary noise when his glossy, silken blond hair brushed over her cheek. Her fingers cinched on his robes, and his own hand tightened a little on her jaw. His other hand wrapped around her waist and planted itself at the small of her back. He kissed her again, more firmly this time, and his breath was rickety against her lips as he pulled away.

"Oh. Gracious." Lucius released Hermione slowly and took a few steps back. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "I am sorry."

"Erm… well, I'm not," Hermione told him. Lucius looked up at her and said,

"It mustn't be like that between us. You and I both know why that happened."

A dropped potion. A collision in the corridor and a spilled Draught of Magnes is why that happened, Hermione told herself. But then part of her mind screamed that he was handsome and charming and witty and very intelligent. He had negative parts of him, to be certain, but he also possessed many qualities that Hermione valued.

What are you thinking, Hermione? He's twenty-five years older than you and he's Draco's father, and he's a teacher, and you were enemies not so long ago.

"I'm not sorry," Hermione said again. Lucius nodded and muttered,

"As long as no one is missing me, I think I'll go spend the rest of this highly abnormal day in peaceful solitude. Enjoy your reading on Centaurs, Miss Granger."

He turned and stalked quickly out of the library, his dragon-hide boots and his walking stick clacking a cadence on the stone floor as he went.

Notes: A kiss! At last! Raise your hand if you're excited to see some real Lumione material start to materialize. Now raise your hand if you're very angry with Ron! Everyone has their hands raised? Okay, good. Haha.

Thank you so very much for reviews.