Thank you to the kind reviewers who send their support and encouragement, you guys are amazing! I hope you're enjoying so far, this bit continues on the fluffy line but I think we're heading toward some important realizations soon enough! Enjoy!
Hermione started bumping into Lucius in odd locations, quite regularly after that. One day it was at the Leaky Cauldron where she'd sat in a corner booth with a novel, he'd joined her for drinks and they'd chatted amicably for the first time without any dramatic disasters or interruptions—a first for them, really.
"Where are the blokes?" He'd asked before dipping the draft back. Hermione had admittedly been rather surprised to see him order a beer, of course he made a fuss about the amount of foam over the top and had given her a lecture on how to pour the drink into the glass in a way that would keep that foam from growing—but there were something so completely average about him drinking the masculine, but plain, drink that she found herself entranced with the way his mouth formed around the glass.
"What blokes?"
"Good answer." They'd clinked glasses at that.
A few days later they'd bumped into each other in the quill section of Flourish & Blotts and he'd treated her to a severely over-priced quill with a shake of his head and deaf ear to her loud protests of the extravagant gift with the insistence that it was his show of gratitude for starting the secret society, as he had begun to call it.
"Well I'll just buy you a nice one for Christmas, then." Her promise had gotten a bit of a guffaw out of him, sharp eyebrows high on his forehead as they exited the shop. The tinkle of the bell above the door the underscore to his amused noise and the bright grin he'd earned from her.
"Hermione if you think you can out-gift me at Christmas, you have quite the surprise coming your way." The fact that they were discussing plans of their friendship to last for months in the future made her giddier than she would have liked to admit.
Not long after that they met for tea at a small muggle shop, where she became gleefully aware that Lucius Malfoy had little to no grasp on muggle money and she spent most of their two hour conversation explaining the brightly colored papers (that he had quite the abundance of) splayed out on the small tabletop.
"No, they're called pounds."
"Why on earth would they call it that?"
"They just do, now pay closer attention I don't want to have to repeat this again…" Her snarky disposition had earned her a slap on the top of her hand as she reached for his money.
They let their backgrounds fall away (as it obviously triggered overly sensitive feelings on both sides), they ended all blatant innuendos (much to Lucius' dismay he soon realized this topic always brought them back to his circling their ages and his ego "couldn't handle it again, quite frankly"), and reverted to simply being friends focused "in the now." A solid month went by of fresh secret society meetings, artfully worded letters from the Fallen One (with little advancement on his identity), and Hermione had grown quite comfortable with the her arrangement with Lucius until she found herself shopping with for Halloween costumes with Ginny, and they bumped into the blonde aristocrat.
"This is ridiculous!" Hermione's voice was strained, even to her own ears, as she stood in the dressing cubicle with her very last shred of dignity being stripped from her as she pulled on the slinky costume.
"If you don't hurry up and show me, I'll just come in there again and I don't think we want a repeat of the last shop." They'd been asked to leave on account of Hermione's screeches when Ginny had insensitively yanked the Mad Hatter top-hat off of her head, unaware that Hermione's curls had tangled themselves all along the decorations around the brim. She'd lost a few good chunks of hair in that shop and was hardly going to forget that pain anytime soon.
"No, no alright—but promise me you won't laugh."
"I won't promise that, Hermione, I don't want to lie to you."
"Ginny! You mustn't laugh!"
"Just get your ass out here and quit stalling!" Deaf to Hermione's urgent shushing noises, Ginny stood with her arms crossed as Hermione shyly stepped out from the cubicle. The door clicked closed quietly behind her as she allowed Ginny to take in her appearance.
"Hermione-"
"I know, it's stupid and cliché and overdone— I'll go change. I'm just running out of ideas here!"
"No, Hermione! This is it! Wow. Who knew you were hiding that body under them robes!" Ginny, beaming, rushed toward her and excitedly ran her hands over the tight material across Hermione's stomach.
"Oh sod off…Really, you like it?" Turning for herself in the full length mirror, she had to agree with Ginny, it was by far the best costume she'd had on that day, and the most understated.
"Even if anyone else comes as a cat, there's no way they'll be able to compete with this."
"Ginny, the party is at your childhood home who the hell else will be coming but us?" Ginny dodged the question quickly,
"Do you have the tag? I'll go ring it up while you change back, I've gotta meet Harry in ten or he'll kill me." Hermione pulled the little blue slip and her coin purse out of her bra and handed it to her friend, who made her way to the front of the shop, before Hermione did one more turn for herself in the mirror. Ginny was right, the black leather of the jumpsuit hugged her curves to perfection and the zipper of the top could be easily adjusted to help her survive an evening both under Molly's judgement and any Weasley brother advances, but then could be pulled down if—if what? She almost caught herself wondering the question aloud. The sexiness really was for no one but herself, she supposed, but if a magical mystery man suddenly popped up at the burrow, at least then Hermione could yank the zipper down to her belly button and prove…? Well, prove something to someone eventually, she supposed.
"That looks quite nice, it's purrrfect in fact." The sardonic drawl had her freezing in front of the mirror. And life had just been beginning to feel worth living again. Oh god the costume had a bloody belly-button length zipper track but nothing to cover her face—why the bloody hell hadn't she opted for a masked costume instead? Lucius stood behind her in the mirror with his usual tight-lipped smirk that usually had her seeing red, instead the only red she could see was blooming across her chest and ears.
"It's for the party at the burrow…I'm a cat."
"Yes, I gathered that much. You look lovely, are you declawed or am I in danger?" The heat of his chest against her back suddenly felt threatening, the walls of the shop seemed to be closing in on them as she held his gaze in the mirror—curious at how dark his usually bright eyes appeared in the reflective glass.
"You're always in danger with me, Lucius, especially when I'm shopping with Ginny."
"Oh good, for a moment I was worried you were walking around like this in public without an escort." The man knew how to push her buttons. She was spinning towards him, her back to the mirror, before he'd even finished his full thought.
"I don't need an escort-" His unique cologne of mint and masculinity always sent her whirring a little, but the scent coupled with his fingers pushing her hair back behind her ear sent her whirring with jitters. Bloody hell, do we always stand this close?
"Now, Hermione, I must disagree…It looks lovely from behind, as well." Blue eyes obviously flittered from her eyes to the mirror behind her, where his eyes dropped slightly as he quite obviously checked out her bum. Playful annoyance had her slapping his hands way from her flushed face, even as she struggled to stifle a giggle.
"Why thank you…So, will you be dressing up?" She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze and was rather surprised when his eyes dragged slowly from her mouth up to her eyes. As if he had been reading her lips. Or staring at them. But there was no way Lucius Malfoy was staring at her lips. Was there? She was breathless suddenly, anxious to change out of the tight material but not wanting to move from her position so close to his broad chest.
"We don't get a lot of trick-or-treaters at the mansion, it would be rather silly of me to dress up for just the house elves to see."
"It's not my party, or I'd invite you."
"I hope if it was your party, I would have been invited by now." With a joking shove shot at his chest, Malfoy was forced backwards. Large hands rubbed over the spot where she had shoved, as if she could actually hurt him.
"You do know you have another two weeks before your costume will come in handy, don't you?" He taunted, hands still overdramatically rubbing his chest.
"Hermione has never liked to procrastinate. Hey Lucius, what're you doing here?" Hermione stiffened at the familairty behind Ginny's words. Lucius had been well-behaved and kindly tempered at all of the secret meetings, but Ginny of all people had a reason to begrudge him her favor and kindness. Lucius looked equally as taken aback as Hermione felt, but years of manner training in the upper class meant he was quick to make a speedy recovery.
"Oh I wandered in after I saw a very familiar head of curls waltzing through the Alley. Are you searching for a costume as well, Miss Weasley?" Hermione wished she could paint Ginny in that moment: a cat costume slung over one arm, fiery hair toppled upon her bed in a haphazard bun, engagement ring completely forgotten as a hot blush burned up her cheeks through the tips of her ears while she corrected,
"Oh, call me Ginny, please." For some reason, anger burned the tips of Hermione's fingers in a way reminiscent of how they'd felt moments before she'd slapped Draco all those years ago.
"Ginny, then." Lucius winked and Ginny was closer to a shade of purple than pink with her violent blush. "Are you shopping for a costume for Halloween as well, Ginny?"
"No, I've got mine already…Red Riding Hood. Actually, it's for a party at the burrow, Lucius—you should come!" Hermione's jaw nearly dropped to the floor at Ginny's eager invitation. Lucius' shock was of a different sort, he was more pleased than Hermione had ever seen him,
"I would be positively delighted! Thank you, Ginny! Are you sure I wouldn't be imposing?"
"No, no of course not! We'll be thrilled to have you."
"Ah, now Ginny who said anything about having me? I only agreed to be in attendance, and you're nearly a married woman." He wagged a haughty finger in her direction and Hermione felt as if the very floor beneath her feet was slipping away. What the bloody hell was he doing and why in Merlin's name was Ginny giggling away like that?
"You're terrible, Lucius! The celebrations start at eight, I do so hope you'll make it." It was Hermione's turn to raise her eyebrows in a very Malfoy-esque manner,
"Oh do you so hope so?" Ginny's headed snapped to the side as she seemed to remember Hermione even existed on the planet, let alone was standing a mere two feet away.
"Yes, I do. My parents will be pleased your coming, Lucius, my father can't speak highly enough of the work you've been conducting as of late." Hermione realized she must have been dreaming.
"Oh, you're too kind. I will see you at eight sharp on Halloween, Miss Weasley."
"Ginny." Her correction was accompanied with batting eyelashes, much to Lucius' glee.
"Yes, Ginny, thank you. I hope you've been enjoying your shopping trip, I will see you then. Good day, Hermione." For the first time since Ginny had entered the small changing area of the shop did Lucius meet Hermione's gaze and his eyes were full of mirth that could only have been doubled by the dumbfounded look she was sure she sported. Stiff as a board she managed to nod,
"Bye, Lucius see you later." He'd nearly made it to the door when he turned around with an elegant spin of his robes, to quip,
"We're still on for supper tonight, right?" The indignant smirk that she held severely mixed feelings about was back and she wished her heart would stop right there as Ginny's hand shot out to clench her forearm in a grip of death.
"Yes, of course."
"So when were you going to tell me you were having dinner with the dishy Malfoy, or was I just never going to know about it?"
"When were you going to tell me you found Lucius dishy, or was I just never going to know that?" They sat sprawled across Hermione's bed in their pajamas with a pizza box open in between them and drying zit cream applied to their faces. Crookshanks had longed since given up on attempting to walk across the pizza and left the two women to gossip in bed without his presence. Ginny's loud laugh was half dog-bark and half human, Hermione positively loved it, especially when her dry honesty was the source of it.
"Oh come on, Hermione. Any woman with a pulse would find him fit. Especially now that he's making efforts to reform himself, he's a classic ironic hero."
Ginny was picking the pepperoni off the pizza and eating them one by one with gratuitous finger-licking following each bite; whenever Hermione ordered pizza for them she made a show of complaining about how amazing muggle food was and how obviously the wizarding community was missing out and half-bloods had it all right with a foot in each world, this pleased Hermione too.
"Byronic hero, but I suppose you're right."
"Course I am…So you admit it then?" Hermione caught her gaze out of the corner of her eye, too comfortably stuffed against the pillows to turn her head anymore.
"Admit what?"
"That you find Lucius dishy, fit, sexy?" Hermione closed her eyes and considered it for a moment. There wasn't much to consider, not really, it was obvious that her physical reactions could only be categorized as attraction to him. Her heart sped when he was near, her palms sweated when he laughed at her jokes, she had to pinch her nails into said sweaty palms to keep from reaching for his elegant fingers when they walked together on the streets, he made her smile easier than anyone had done so in her life—but those, of course, were just aspects of attraction. There was no crime in being attracted to Lucius Malfoy, was there? Ginny has to be right anyways, what would not be attracted to him? His crystal eyes, his smooth skin over razor cheekbones, his thin lips and the tongue that slipped over the bottom one regularly, his soft hair, the way he looked in nothing but a white button up was criminal—he was a fine male specimen. A blush had risen across her entire body as she laid thinking of him, of the way he haughtily tipped his head back when he laughed or the way his bright eyes caught hers when he was pleased with something she had said.
"Hermione?" Ginny's voice pervaded the fantasy of Lucius' fingers entwined with hers, she imagined them smooth but with a firmness that spoke of past callouses from the dirty work he could not deny doing.
"Hm?"
"Do you find him dishy or what?" Ginny's voice sounded as sleepy as Hermione felt. Her mind spun with thoughts of Lucius' long fingers as she failed to reopen her eyes, the heat of the comforter with the softness of the pillows had entrapped her in a comfy cocoon.
"Yeah…go to sleep, Gin."
"Mm."
Dear Fallen One,
We're still struggling with names on this end, do you have any suggestions? I eagerly await your response as I cannot help but assume your eloquence and wit transfer rather well to naming things. I cannot help but ponder what your child's name is, you did say you have a son didn't you? How old is he? Have you spoken to your wife as of late? I feel like a horribly self-centered cad whenever I think of how little I know of you when it feels as if you know every transition in my life over the past few months.
Halloween is just around the corner, as you know, and I cannot believe that the meetings have successfully managed to stay afoot for this long. I can never thank you enough for the inspiration and contacts you have provided since the very beginning of this process, you've been such a help I don't believe you can fathom it, not really. I've contacted Dr. Brontes upon your recommendation, he should be at the next meeting. Is he your therapist? Will that be awkward for you? If I do not speak to you before, I do hope you have a fun Halloween.
As usual I wish you would reveal your identity so we could talk normally, as civil friends ought to. Wouldn't you enjoy an invitation to a Halloween party I'm attending? (That's my shameful attempt at bribery, in some alternate universe I hope my company is enough to coerce you into exchanging and revealing your identity—although it does not have to be an alternate universe, it could be this one.)
Happy Halloween hauntings,
Jane
Jane,
Your persistence is one of my favorite qualities about you. Have I written, as of late, that I find you utterly charming and intriguing? The meetings have become the highlights of my week, not only for the excellent supportive community you have so selflessly created but for the chances I have to study your being. You are extraordinary, I hope no one has ever tried to convince you otherwise. At least, I hope you have never let them succeed at such a task.
I do have a son, I would reveal his name but I fear that would be saying too much. I cannot attest to your compliments about my eloquence or naming skills. However, I may assert that my ex-wife and I named him creatively in a way that maintained the traditional standards of our families. My wife and I have not talked for quite a while now, she has fled to another country where some ancient members of her family still tread. My son followed a week after her, I cannot say that I blame him. Her family's mansion is quite beautiful there, we honeymooned not far from their home and at my young age I had been in awe of the culture and society. How naïve we are when we are young, though you are now around the age I was then and I do not find you naïve. Perhaps in the matters of the heart you are? I cannot say that I would know.
I hope you enjoy Dr. Brontes, he is a kind man. Do not fear for my comfort, it will not be awkward—Dr. Brontes is a true professional. Have you considered seeing him privately? He has done wonders for my mind.
I do so hope you will enjoy your Halloween festivities, I will be at a party myself. Unfortunately the exchange you offer goes wasted when I already have plans. Perhaps another time you will think of something of use to me.
Happy hauntings,
The Fallen One
Hermione read the letter as she waited for Lucius to arrive to the pastry shop that had slowly became their usual meeting place. It was on the far side of Diagon Alley and had popped up after the war had ended in one of the newly renovated store fronts. The pastries could have from France themselves they were so delectable, the tea seemed to constantly remain at the perfect temperature, and the quiet tinkling of classical music that underscored every conversation made it easily one of Hermione's favorite locations. She reread the letter twice more before Lucius arrived and draped his robes across the back of his chair and settled in across from her. Their conversation passed from the usual greetings into their current readings before he circled back to the letter from her "mysterious pen pal," as Lucius called him.
"So do you think you'll ever meet him?" He asked after reading the letter slowly, fingers tracing over the delicate parchment with interest.
"I'm not sure, I hope so."
"Do you have feelings for him?" Blue eyes met hers over the top of the paper and she felt suddenly very small. Did she?
"How could I have feelings for someone I've never met?" Lucius smiled,
"The same way you cannot have feelings for someone you have met. Like me, for instance." His gaze returned to the letter with great interest and Hermione felt her heart pick up pace at his words.
"I beg your pardon?" He seemed surprised that she had any questions regarding his statement and floundered wonderfully for a moment before clarifying,
"I simply mean that now knowing him does not make any feelings you have towards him invalid. I believe it works both ways, you don't know him but you have feelings toward him whereas you do know me and you don't have feelings toward me—right?" There was a hidden agenda to his question, Hermione knew, but she couldn't figure out exactly what he was getting at. The slightest smirk at the corner of his thin lips was the cause of her confusion, what was he getting at?
"It would be ridiculous of me to have romantic feelings toward a man I've never met. How could I have feelings for someone without knowing their full self?" A still gaze met her from across the table, complete and total stillness. She feared there was something wrong but upon her inquisitiveness he denied any disturbance.
"I think I'll just have a tea." He decided as he handed her the parchment back, eyes still hooked to hers as she reached out to take his offering.
"You're sure you're quite well? You look awfully pale all of a sudden."
"I'm fine, nothing a good cup won't be able to fix. I'll go order, do you want one as well?" He rose without awaiting her answer and headed to the front counter with a lengthy strut. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as she watched him in line, his broad shoulders blocking the sight of the view patrons in front of him. His dark button down and pants looked rather out of place amongst the doilies and pastel decorations of the shop. When he glanced back at her though from across the crowded shop she couldn't help but smile in encouragement. She'd been fifteen when she had read Victor Hugo's Les Miserables and had been quite confounded over the man's description of Marius. "His smile corrected the severity of his face, as a whole" Hugo had written about the romantic lead and there had been no one in her life that she had been able to truly apply the thought to but as Lucius Malfoy smiled at her from across the shop and she felt her heart flutter she found herself suddenly curious as to how Lucius could be compared to a Marius. But there was no denying it, that smile could correct the severity of any face, and for that matter, any heart.
I hope you'll tell me what you think so far! Halloween party is coming up soon!