Fifth Year, Part 4, 1996

In the final weeks of their school term, Hermione wrestled with guilt over what she'd done. Had she not given the prophecy to Lucius, would someone have been killed that night? Would she or one of her friends been seriously injured? Would the Aurors have arrived in time to arrest some of the Death Eaters? Arrest Lucius? Maybe it really was for the best that she'd brought a peaceful end to a bad situation. Dumbledore already knew the contents of the prophecy, so the light hadn't even lost crucial information.

And what of Lucius? Had her sacrifice of the prophecy spared him from torture? Perhaps she'd be able to catch a glimpse of him when the train returned to King's Cross Station. He was usually there to greet his son.

As it turned out, she didn't have to wait that long. The school term was wrapping up when the letter came to Hermione via eagle owl.

Saturday. Shrieking Shack. 4 pm. Be there. -LM

The words were written in an elegant script on stark white parchment. As soon as she read the note and committed the message to memory, the words disappeared, leaving behind just the blank slip of parchment. What a wonderful spell! It was incredibly useful for sending secret messages. She would have to ask him about it.

Lucius had written to her! He wanted to see her! She was nearly overwhelmed at the torrent of emotion his letter caused. Saturday was the final Hogsmeade weekend, with the students departing early the next week. She'd planned to go, mainly to pick up a few books at Tomes & Scrolls to keep her occupied over the summer, and grab one last butterbeer before returning to the muggle world, but it would be tough to escape Harry and Ron. Harry felt exceedingly guilty that Hermione, Ron, and Neville had all been injured in some way during their foray into the Ministry.

She managed to ditch the boys by excitedly sharing her plans to spend the entire afternoon in the bookstore while they looked at quidditch gear and bought candy. As soon as they disappeared from view, she cast a disillusionment charm on herself and took off for the Shrieking Shack. She had to slow to a walk as she approached the old building, lest she be short of breath upon arrival.

"Hello?" she called out softly as she stepped through the front door and made her way into the rundown house.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned on the spot to see Lucius across the room, dressed in elegant wizard's robes, snake-head cane in hand.

"So you came. I was unsure whether you would be able to escape the Boy Who Lived," he drawled.

"You wrote me. Of course I came," she said a little breathlessly.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "I'm pleased to know then that you come when called. Such a good girl, aren't you pet?"

His tone was mocking, and she bristled at the implication that she came when called, just like a dog.

"Don't call me that."

He walked toward her, and Hermione instinctively took a step back. And then another.

"But you fetch so nicely," he drawled, his voice like silk. "The Dark Lord was most… pleased to recover the prophecy."

She swallowed hard. "Did He...you weren't tortured then?" she asked.

"Tortured? Did you worry about me?" he asked, seemingly amused by her concern.

"I've read about what He did in the war, the things He did, even to His own followers. And I heard things that night, in the Ministry. Someone said that He tortured those who failed Him."

He studied her for a moment, seemingly ignoring her comment. The silence stretched on, and Hermione anxiously twisted the hem of her sleeve with her fingers, uncomfortable at his lack of response.

"Do I make you nervous, Miss Granger?" he finally asked.

"No. No! Of course not. I just… I'm not used to being…alone. You know. Alone. With a…"

"A Death Eater?" he supplied.

"A man. Wizard," she finished, blushing at the admission.

He leaned back from her then and looked her up and down.

"How old are you, Miss Granger?"

"Sixteen. I'll be 17 in September."

"Hmmm…almost a year older than Draco then. And yet afraid to be alone with me. How very unlike a Gryffindor." His lips twisted in a smirk that was almost, almost a smile.

"The last time I was alone with you, you hit me," she pointed out.

"Mmm, yes I did, but all for a good cause. You can relax though. I don't intend to harm you."

His insistence that he wouldn't hurt her and that hint of a smile on his face went a long way toward lessening her anxiety.

"Tell me, did Dumbledore peek into that enormous brain of yours?" he asked in a casual voice. He'd propped his cane against a dust-coated table so he could leisurely remove his gloves, one finger at a time.

"Yes. He did. I hadn't…I'd never noticed it before. I wouldn't have noticed it if you hadn't warned me," she admitted.

"And how did that make you feel, knowing that someone invaded your mind without your consent?"

"Awful. It's wrong. He shouldn't be allowed just dive into someone's mind like that! I can't stop thinking about it, about how many times he's spoken to me, especially about Harry, about something Harry did or said, and I wonder how many times he violated my mind." Her anger and her vehemence increased as she spoke.

"Are you familiar with occulemency, my dear girl?" he asked.

"It's…it's a process in which you close off your mind and block a legilimens from seeing your thoughts," she recited, secretly thrilled that he'd called her 'dear.'

"Very good." He withdrew a book from a pocket in his robes and presented it to her.

She took it from him and tore her eyes from his to look at the title.

"Occulemency: Protecting the Mind," she read aloud. She looked up at him, a question clear on her face.

"Read it. It's not the same thing as training with a proper legilimens, but it should get you off to a good start," he said. "I will expect you to have made more than sufficient progress by the time you return for your sixth year at Hogwarts."

Wait – was he saying he planned to see her again? Hermione's heart raced at the thought.

"Yes sir. I'll take good care of the book," she promised.

"I'm sure you will, but it's not a loan. Keep it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

She grinned at him. "Thank you!"

He waved his hand dismissively. "It's the bare minimum of what anyone should have if they're to spend much time around Albus Dumbledore."

"Are you… are you a legilimens then?" she asked, hoping she wasn't overstepping boundaries. She was suddenly mortified at the idea that he could see inside her head, see how absurdly attractive she found him.

"I have some experience with legilimency, but were I to enter your mind, you would surely know it. It's very difficult to do without being detected and can be rather painful," he admitted. "Given the rumours of your intelligence, I assume it should not be terribly difficult for you to learn to shield your thoughts."

"This is an incredible gift. Thank you," she said again as she tucked the book into her own pocket. She was eager to thumb through it and learn whatever he wanted her to learn, but she didn't want to cut short this incredibly thrilling private encounter with him.

"I will require that you obtain greater than basic proficiency as an occulemens if I'm to have any contact with you. The only reason I chanced even this meeting is because you've just met with Dumbledore, and you're departing soon for London," he admitted.

Hermione took that in, realising that he'd wanted to see her before the end of the school term when she returned to the muggle world but after Dumbledore had met with her, in the hopes that he wouldn't find need to look into her mind again before she left.

"I will learn! I promise. You want to have contact with me again?" She tried not to get her hopes up. He was brilliant and beautiful and powerful and married, and really, why on earth would he want anything to do with her, Hermione Granger, plain muggleborn teenager?

He tilted his head at her, as if studying her for a moment.

"I find myself most intrigued by you," he admitted. "Your academic reputation precedes you, of course, and it's well known that you are Harry Potter's best friend. But what interests me most about you is what's underneath."

"Underneath?" Her voice squeaked just a little bit as he leaned in closer to her.

"You knew the Dark Lord wanted that prophecy. You connived to take it from your dear friend, Harry Potter, and give it to a Death Eater, knowing it would fall into the hands of one of the greatest dark wizards of all time. You didn't get caught. You were summoned to an abandoned shack by a member of the Dark Lord's inner circle, and you didn't hesitate. You came. I want to know why. What darkness lies beneath your surface?"

"I'm not dark," she said automatically.

"No? Your actions say otherwise. How is Dolores Umbridge, by the way?" he asked casually.

She swallowed hard. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh Draco's told me all about your little jaunt into the Forbidden Forest, how you claimed you'd take her to Dumbledore's 'secret weapon.' Rumour has it that she was in quite a state when she emerged from the forest. Barely survived."

"Really? I hadn't heard," she said quickly. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow of her own, daring him to challenge her. To her surprise he laughed lightly.

"Rather cunning of you. I can appreciate your creativity - and your cruelty. Horrid bitch had it coming, no doubt."

She gaped at his crass remark.

"Don't look so surprised. I'm pleased that she's made Dumbledore's life miserable this year, but she's hardly effective. From what I hear, you've run some sort of underground illegal resistance movement with Potter. If that's true – and I don't doubt that it is - it proves that woman has even less control of the students than Dumbledore, and it makes me all the more curious as to why you were so willing to betray your dear friends for me."

She stared up at him, feeling very much put on the spot and unsure how to respond. Should she confess her feelings for him? Admit that she found him unbelievably attractive and wanted desperately for him to respect her, to value her? Would he laugh at her? Curse her?

"It wasn't a 'you versus them' situation," she finally said. "I heard you, that night. You said you didn't want a body wanted to get the prophecy and get out. Giving it to you was an expedient solution for us to leave without anyone dying, and it made a lot more sense than Harry's method of blasting his way out."

"Yes, Bellatrix was most disappointed she wasn't able to torture anyone."

Hermione shivered.

"You were wise to seek me out. No one else in that group would have listened to you," he said. "Some of the Dark Lord's more, ah, enthusiastic supporters tend to curse first and ask questions later."

"But you did. Listen to me, that is."

"I did."

"You didn't look like you wanted to be there."

"No, I did not."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

"What I did, it wasn't just to save myself or my friends. I did it for you too. You said yourself you didn't want to be there. I couldn't just let you be tortured! You're… you're just as innocent as I am," she said vehemently.

His lips twisted into a smirk. "Oh pet, I'm nowhere near as innocent as you are."

His hand came up then, and he trailed a light fingertip over her cheek, making her shiver at his touch. It was the first time he'd laid hands on her without the barrier of his gloves between them.

Hermione fought to control her breathing as he leaned in toward her and trailed his fingers down her cheek and neck.

"You've healed nicely."

Could he feel the rapid beat of her pulse? Could he see how she felt about him? His grey eyes held her captive and frozen in place.

"Such a shame to bruise such delicate skin."

She swallowed hard as his touch became firmer, his hand sliding around the back of her neck. Before she could respond, he'd pulled her toward him and claimed her lips in a kiss.

It was breathtaking, it was passionate, it was so much MORE than she ever could have expected, of a kiss, of him. She'd dreamed of this but never expected it could actually happen. His tongue was possessive, demanding, and she melted under his forceful embrace. She clung to his tailored black robes and pressed her body against his. He was solid, strong. He was the only thing holding her up in that moment.

His hand fisted in her wild curls and drew her head back, and he pierced her again with his intense stare.

"How long have you wanted that?"

"What makes you think I wanted it? You kissed me," she managed to get out, amazed at her ability to still string together a coherent thought after a kiss like that.

"It's written all over your face," he smirked.

She didn't know what to say to that. She could only stare helplessly as he walked her backwards until he had her pressed up against the wall. He let go of her hair then and reached for her wrists. Just as he had that night in the Department of Mysteries, he pinned her hands above her head.

"Did you want me to kiss you that night, when I had you pinned against the door like this?" he pressed.

She swallowed hard and nodded. What was it about this man, this beautiful, domineering wizard, who rendered her speechless and helpless? Was this what love felt like? This was such a foreign and confusing but not unwelcome feeling.

"Has anyone kissed you like this before?" he asked as he tightened his grip on her wrists and pressed his knee between her legs as he had that night.

She shook her head. "No one."

His lips were back on hers then, his tongue pushing into her mouth, and she gave herself into the madness and chaos of passion. Desire pulsed through her body, and she moved instinctively against him.

'Teach me,' her mind pleaded. 'Show me what my body can do. Make me feel.'

For one as devoted to education as she, the prospect of learning the intricacies of lust, of sex, with one as obviously gifted as Lucius was thrilling. She wanted more, so much more, but wasn't sure how to ask for it.

They were both breathing heavily when he finally tore his mouth from hers, his breath hot on her ear as he rested his forehead on her pinned arms.

"Tell me, pet, are you untouched?"

"I...I've never…" she stammered. The word 'virgin' made her sound hopelessly naive and pathetic.

"Good."

He nipped at her earlobe, drawing a moan from her throat, before releasing her wrists and stepping back from her.

Hermione brought her arms down from the wall and tried to bring her breathing under control. Why had he stopped? Why had he left her so needful, so wanting?

"I expect you to remain untouched," he said in a low voice. "For now."

"For now?"

"Deflowering underage witches is highly improper," he said matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather and not the future loss of her virginity. He looked around the room, at the peeling wallpaper, the decrepit furniture, and the dust. So much dust.

"I also have higher standards than this location affords," he sniffed with disdain. "When I take you, it will be in a far more fitting locale and when I have the proper time available to make it a memorable experience."

'When I take you.' Oh God. She was in way over her head. He'd managed to make her heart race again, just when she thought she had her body almost under control.

"I did not anticipate this when I went to retrieve the prophecy, but here you are, and I intend to claim you as my own. You are mine, and I do not like to share. You will remain untouched until I have you. Do I make myself clear?"

His tone was menacing and possessive, and God, what was wrong with her that she found it an incredible turn on?

The "yes sir," that slipped from her lips was unplanned, but she didn't miss the gleam in his eye at her response.

"When will I see you again?" she asked breathlessly.

He slid his gloves back on and then reached for his wand.

"You've got dust in your hair," he said with a wry twist of his lips before casting a scourgify on her.

He returned his wand to the cane. "Perhaps this summer, but probably not until the next school term has already started. I have a... cruel master who is very demanding with my time."

She shivered at the mention of Voldemort.

"Is there truly no escape for you?"

"No, pet, there is not. As you know I was under the imperius curse during His rise to power. The dark mark returned when He did, and it is impossible to ignore His summons. He exerts enormous control over His followers, willing or otherwise."

"He makes you do horrible things, doesn't He?" she asked in a whisper.

"I do what I have to do. Surviving means that I am alive and well to protect my son. Draco is...I realise he's been rather antagonistic where you and your friends are concerned, but my son is the most important person in the world to me. The Dark Lord wants the Malfoy name, fortune, and influence at his disposal, and I am not in a position to object."

Her heart went out to him then at this admission. She'd always seen him as the epitome of wizarding society. She'd always believed if she had his approval, she'd find her place in this world, she'd find acceptance. It was sobering to realise that he was in many ways as threatened and vulnerable as she. He'd been forced into this, and now he had no choice but to protect his only child.

If she'd been unsure of her feelings for him before, she was certain now. She loved him. She loved this complicated, intense, beautiful, brilliant wizard who would do whatever it took to protect his son. She loved him with all of the innocence and optimism of youth and first love. And she knew in that moment, she'd do almost anything for him.

"If Vol- the Dark Lord," she said, noting his wince at the way she'd almost said his master's name, "If the Dark Lord were no more, you'd be free."

"To even think that around Him is treason."

"You'd be free, and Draco would be safe."

"It's a lovely idea, but you have no idea of the power He wields. He is virtually unstoppable. It's only a matter of time before the wizarding world falls to Him," he warned.

"But the prophecy… Harry can stop Him," she said. "Harry's the only one who can. And you can help us."

"Ah, so you do know the prophecy. I wondered…" his voice trailed off.

"Dumbledore knew. Dumbledore knew all along," she said bitterly, still incensed that they'd risked their lives for something their headmaster already knew but had not disclosed.

"That is... unsurprising," he said. "As for helping Potter, flattering though it is, you think too highly of me."

"Harry is my best friend. The Order knows me, and I know all of them. Any information you can pass to me about his His plans, anything you can share could go a long way toward stopping him," she insisted.

"You would have me turn spy?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

She wanted to say yes, to say that if Professor Snape could do it, so could Lucius, but she wasn't sure if Lucius knew of his friend's deception, of the trust Dumbledore had placed in him.

"You were denied a choice before, but you have one now. You're more than just the mark you were forced to take," she insisted.

"I will… consider it," he said finally. "In the meantime, I have requirements of you."

"You do?"

"Indeed. I suppose you'll be returning to the muggle world for the summer?" he asked with a sneer, showing his obvious disdain for her origins.

"Not the whole summer. I'll spend part of the time… elsewhere. I can't say where."

He raised an eyebrow. "Can you receive owls in the muggle world?"

"Yes. I don't have my own though, so you'll need to tell your owl to wait for a response from me if you want me to write you back."

"I shall owl you then. Expect books from me. I know you desire knowledge, and I shall give it to you, magic you'll never learn at Hogwarts."

Her eyes widened at the extraordinary offer, and the thought of learning so much more. Anything he taught her about magic would be a godsend for her own education and could potentially be of tremendous help to Harry.

"What is the catch?" she asked, suddenly wondering what this generous offer would cost her.

He laughed, and she thought him beautiful when he smiled.

"You really were mis-sorted, pet. There is no catch. Only demands. I demand your secrecy. You will not show any books or letters I send you to anyone. You will not tell anyone of our meeting or of any communication between us. You will learn occulemency, and I will test your shields when we're next together. I will teach you what I can. I will not be a gentle taskmaster, and I will expect nothing less than perfection."

She swallowed hard but nodded. Of course he would demand discretion. She could do that. It was worth it for the knowledge and for the opportunity to be with him.

"You will remain untouched. Your pathetic little friends will keep their hands, lips, and bodies away from yours. You will not allow so much as a single kiss from anyone else," he said coldly.

She shivered at his possessiveness. She'd always been the one acting to protect Harry. No one had ever been this protective of her before. No one had ever desired her like this. It was a heady feeling to know that SHE had brought out this side of Lucius Malfoy!

"I promise," she said in a steady voice, meeting his eyes again.

He smirked before pressing a kiss to her forehead and smoothing a gloved hand over her hair.

"Be good then, Hermione. I'll be in touch."

He disapparated, leaving her alone and overwhelmed at what had just transpired between them.

~oOo~

She was 14 or 15 - she honestly couldn't recall the exact date - the first time she touched herself with thoughts of Lucius Malfoy running through her head. Her parents were medical professionals and children of the sexual revolution. She'd had access to far more books on human sexuality than the average child, and she knew that in the muggle world at least, there was nothing inherently abnormal about masturbation. The wizarding world seemed a bit more archaic in that regard. Either that, or her roommates were much better at discretion than she'd ever given them credit for.

Regardless of what her roommates did or did not do, Hermione herself had figured out through reading and experimentation just what touches felt good. She'd gone from tentative, curious exploration to more confident strokes of her fingertips, her slender fingers seeking that little nub of flesh and nerves the books called a clitoris. She'd figured out how to wet her fingers in her mouth and slide them through sensitive folds of skin, bumping that little perfect spot between her legs until she felt dizzy and her vagina spasmed and small waves of pleasure rippled through her body.

At some point, she had begun to think about Mr. Malfoy - Lucius, he was always Lucius in her head during these times - when she touched herself. Her early fantasies about him were fairly innocent and generally reflected the young couples she'd seen snogging in dark alcoves of the castle when wandering back from the library after curfew or venturing out with Harry and Ron. Still, it was always about him. She'd tried in fourth year to touch herself to the memory of Viktor's kisses and fumbling gropes, but it was wholly unsatisfying.

The night following her meeting with Lucius in the Shrieking Shack was the first time Hermione touched herself with actual memories of his hands on her body, his lips on hers. His kiss had been so possessive, his touch electrifying. Behind the privacy of her bed curtains and a hastily cast silencing spell, she'd slipped her hand into her white cotton and lace knickers and stroked herself to orgasm over the memories of his tongue in her mouth, his teeth nipping at her earlobe, at the feel of his much bigger, stronger body holding hers up.

She came quickly, once and then again, unable to stop the flood of tantalizing memories. That was the night she knew she was truly lost. No one had ever made her feel like Lucius had that afternoon outside Hogsmeade, and alone in her bed that night, she knew she'd do almost anything to be with him again.

~oOo~

Thanks for your patience this week while I was traveling for work. As you can see, what happened in the Department of Mysteries has spawned something much more complicated. Moving forward there will definitely be plot points and action you'll recognise from canon, but you can expect a lot of new details as well. What does it mean for Harry if Sirius doesn't die at the end of 5th year? What does it mean for Hermione to have a secretive involvement with Lucius? Stay tuned!

-Elle