A/N: Thanks to everyone who is back on board with this story. Bringing Lucius into the mix was a thrill and I am excited about things to come. A testing time for Hermione having to dealy with two Malfoys! Enjoy! :p
The instant Raven had shut the door behind her, time seemed to freeze. Hermione could feel her insides twist and her heart accelerate to an unfavourable patter that drew in her attention, trumping her ability to speak. She was tongue tied, astonished and – she hated to admit – intimidated.
How could anyone possibly forget Lucius Malfoy? She forced a breath and exhaled. "Yes, of course. Hello, Mr. Malfoy." That sounded much too friendly for her liking.
"Miss Granger." Lucius gave a small nod as he stood up from his seat to face her. At full height, Hermione's attention was instantly commanded to take note of his demanding stature and graceful air. She glanced down at the silver snake head of his cane, concealing his wand. For a moment, she remembered herself as the the young girl in Flourish and Blotts trying to mask her fear of the infamous Senior Malfoy as he towered over her. Now, the family heir loom almost winded her as the pair of emeralds sparkling between the fingers of his leisurely draped hand stared back at her tauntingly.
"You're looking well. The Ministry must be a healthy place for its employees these days," he said, half raising an eyebrow like he approved.
Hermione swallowed, unable to decide whether she was supposed to thank him for the compliment or affirm the Ministry's amenable working environment. One thing was certain – Lucius knew how to make a woman blush out of sheer uncertainty in how to interpret his observations.
Malfoy cleared his throat, breaking her away from her attentions, and she finally looked over at the man who had kept her awake at night for the last nine days. As her eyes scanned over him, only then did she realise that he was in a full three piece suit. He looked... good. She exhaled lightly, feeling flushed and overwhelmed. Despite his outward appearance of affluence and power, she could see that Malfoy was trying hard to conceal his unease at the haemorrhaging thought of having his father in her presence.
She wanted to yell out that it was much worse for her. In fact, she just wanted to hex him for his exaggerated trepidation.
Whether Lucius was growing impatient, or had noticed their silent dialogue, he certainly knew how to break the ice. Then again, he was somewhat of a specialist in the realm of uncomfortable situations and was obviously intrigued by the little fact that she had just burst into Malfoy's office unannounced. She cringed.
"Draco, you can't leave your guest standing at the door. Miss Granger, please, won't you make yourself comfortable." He used his cane to gesture toward the couches.
"Granger, can I get you a drink?" Draco finally spoke up. He walked over and started pouring the Firewhisky without waiting for a reply.
"Actually, I was just..." She almost sounded like a frightened school girl. "Um, sure," she corrected, straightening her shoulders. Hermione walked across the room toward the couches, resigned to the reality that there was no way out of this afternoon delight anytime soon. She could feel Lucius's gaze follow her every step with an evaluating stare that could not be rivalled.
It was somewhat of a relief that she had chosen to wear her recently purchased shoes – although they did little to challenge the bespoke standard of a Malfoy's style, they certainly helped raise her standard of dress to something more acceptable in present company.
She moved around the coffee table, choosing not to sit on the couch where she and Malfoy had first... passed the point of no return, so to speak. She watched Malfoy with narrowed eyes as he walked over and handed her a drink, his fingers gently brushing hers – 'a rather poor attempt to console her,' she thought – as she took the glass from his hand. His expression, however, remained distant. Hermione searched for a glimmer of real acknowledgment before he stepped away and stood at the edge of the coffee table, almost as if he was trying to consciously maintain a respectable distance.
Lucius walked over and sat opposite. If her thoughts were anything to go by, she could only imagine what Malofy thought of having his father sit on the very couch his son had taken a Muggleborn.
As he sank into the leather, she watched Lucius look across at his son – a thoughtful, slightly curious expression breaking through his faultless features. "Surely you can refer to Miss Granger's given name, Draco? Even in a professional setting, I find it very peculiar that you've maintained the habit of using her family name."
Hermione could see Draco's shoulders tense. She didn't blame him. Pointing out the one thing that highlighted just how far back their acquaintance went only emphasised what had come to pass in the last few months.
"Consider it a term of endearment," Draco said, taking a swig of his drink. It was almost too defiant a response. Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed. His body language didn't not even remotely warrant making light of the observation.
Lucius scrutinised his son with delicate inquiry. "Indeed. I didn't realise how... re-acquainted you were."
Was it suddenly hot in here? Hermione almost felt like she was having an out of body experience. She needed to speak up. She was Hermione Granger: strong willed, independent and certainly no longer so easily intimidated by the likes of Lucius. Except for the little fact that the last time she saw him was in a room full of people and, at the time, she had not slept with his son.
"We are working closely on a project," Hermione heard herself say. Choice words, she mentally chided as she finally saw Malfoy show signs of acknowledgement with a small smirk behind his glass as he brought it to his lips.
It was almost like he was enjoying their little secret. Her eyes wandered once again to the serpent head on Lucius's stick as she took a sip of her own drink, hoping its warmth would encourage her stomach to stop churning and suppress that fly on the wall state she was currently suffering.
"Hmm, yes. I was informed that Draco has secured ties with some Ministry publication," he recollected and then looked across at her with pointed interest. "I wasn't aware that your department was involved. What exactly do you do at the Ministry, Miss Granger?"
"I'm the Director of Muggle Relations."
All Hermione heard was the ice hit the bottom of Malfoy's glass after he downed the rest of his drink. Clearly, Malfoy had failed to divulge the salient aspects of their working relationship.
"Father, it was a strategic move. We are able to boost our market share by advertising in the most popular Ministry publication. They were intending to shut it down altogether, but our contribution now allows for a rather decent magazine."
Although somewhat thankful of Malfoy's rather positive explanation, Hermione was on tenterhooks as she waited for Lucius to respond. "And when will this little magazine be launched?"
"It will be more than just a magazine," Draco added.
And it most certainly was more than 'little', Hermione wanted to protest. She clutched her glass tightly in an effort to compose herself. Lucius was as bad as her mother. "That is why I'm here." Hermione said abruptly, needing to break her silence. "We are due to receive the print of the first issue and need to finalise the launch party." Hermione had forgotten to breathe.
"Hmm."
His vague response unsettled her even more. Malfoy, however, seemed to relax completely. Perhaps she had to let her guard down and take his lead. She could almost hear the wheels turn in the elder Malfoy's head as he absorbed the new information. He leaned forward slightly, amplifying his concentrated gaze.
"Miss Granger, about this purported launch, when and where exactly do you intend to host the event?"
Lucius's appraising glance made her fidget and she shifted consciously into the leather. It was unnerving having him so intently regard her with Malfoy a few feet away watching her reaction. Two Malfoys. She barely had a handle on one.
"Current arrangements are in the Ministry atrium a week from Saturday."
She watched him process, the intensity of his gaze cooling. "I would consider that to be a very last minute arrangement. How do you expect important officials to attend?"
"It is a Saturday, Father. Not much else is going on this month." Draco drawled. He seemed completely unfazed.
Lucius leaned back against the couch again, his long fingers curling over the head of his cane with calculated thought. Hermione was on the verge of a fleeing the room. She chose to drink the rest of her Firewhisky in a desperate act of distraction.
"You will host it at the Manor."
Hermione almost choked.
"Father, we do not want to show we are taking charge. Malfoy Corporation is a collaborator, not the driver. Besides, our contractual arrangements won't allow it. "
"Won't allow the financial contributor to have a say in the launch party? That is debatable, Draco. Do not mock me." His tone was reprimanding.
"Miss Granger, you will be guaranteed interest from people who aren't so forthcoming with the idea of a magazine about... Muggles."
This was getting out of hand. "I assure you, it is not just about Muggles." She sent Malfoy a hard stare. He needed to quash Lucius' absurd idea, and quickly. Hermione could not imagine anything worse.
"Our marketing and advertising department is handling the particulars, Father."
Her look turned quizzical. How was he hoping to settle anything?
"Who exactly?"
"Carla Crowe, the Director."
"Irrelevant. You trump the decision of your directors, Draco. And I trump yours."
Hermione was not impressed. "Mr. Malfoy..." They both looked at her. "Uh, Lucius, thank you for the offer, but I can assure you, attendance will not be a problem. It has been flagged for months and the Minister has informally communicated it to relevant officials. He is rather excited about it, actually."
"I will speak with him."
She inhaled. "I insist that won't be necessary. Mal- uh, Draco and I have it all in hand."
Forget hexing, Malfoy. She wanted to kill him for not briefing Lucius about this rather important project.
The smile that formed on Lucius lips was all too disconcerting. Perhaps she had sounded too desperate and insistent about her view. "Very well, I see you will not be moved on the matter." Then again, it seemed to work.
He leant forward, gracefully stretching out his arm so that his cane stood tall, and smoothly rose to his feet.
"I will not intervene, Draco. You and Miss Granger may do as you please, for now."
Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, unable to resist the thought that there was some underlying meaning to his statement. She glanced at Draco for validation. He shook his head dismissively as his father walked toward the office door.
"Miss Granger, I'd almost forgotten how committed you are to your work. Rather tactful of Draco to catch on in a positive light," he replied, a smirk forming on his face as his eyes travelled from her to his son. "Perhaps I will see you at the launch. I always enjoy a visit to the Ministry."
Hermione could only manage a half smile. She was too busy being distracted by her own meddlesome thoughts trying to unpack anything Lucius said. It was almost unbearable that she could not read him at all.
"Don't wear him out Miss Granger."
Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets as Lucius gave a small laugh at his own joke.
"Father, please."
"You mother expects you at dinner this evening, Draco." With that, he opened the door and swiftly walked through, the resounding click emanating through the room.
It was just the two of them again after nine days. Hermione stared down at her now empty glass, wondering how she had just survived that ordeal.
"Don't take my father seriously, Granger," he said, finally.
She could only scoff at the mild statement. "You could have told me you were busy. In fact, I can't believe you haven't told your father about this rather significant shift in his company's choice of investments."
"I didn't realise we were at a stage where we were updating each other on family affairs. Besides, he likes the idea, Granger."
Hermione pursed her lips as she placed her empty glass on the table. "A quick Owl is not so hard, you know," she said.
"I can't say it's any worse than your standard office issue through your assistant."
"That didn't stop you last time," she defended, knowing it was exactly what she deserved.
He gave her a long look. "That was before we spent the weekend together." He set his empty glass down next to hers and sighed. "You're all mixed signals, Granger. What am I supposed to think? Besides, I'm a little under the pump with my father showing up unexpectedly to check up on me and have me attend all these bloody meetings."
Hermione folded her hands in retreat, suddenly quiet. "Don't you see your parents?" she asked, sidetracking from the real issue.
"I see them once a month, Granger, and at social events. It's controlled and that's how I like it. My father, for some reason, has made it his prerogative to be on my case for the last week." He raked his fingers through his hair – only then did she notice that it looked much tidier. Obviously he had cleaned himself up for his father's visit. She wondered for a moment if the Malfoy she had come to know was really him, or just the result of a phase.
She felt the seat next to her sink as Malfoy sat down. "Think my father caught on?"
Hermione shrugged. Who knew what was running through Lucius' head. "I think you're better qualified to answer that one."
She felt his hand brush her hair as he toyed with the collar of her jacket.
"Does it bother you that I still call you 'Granger'?"
"Not as much as your father pointing it out," Hermione replied absently.
Malfoy chuckled as he leaned in and placed a kiss her neck. "What if I did call you Hermione?" he said into her ear, her name deliciously rolling off his tongue.
Against her better judgment – given that she was obviously irritated with him at that moment – Hermione closed her eyes, submitting to his touch. Malfoy brought his other hand up to cup her cheek, tilting her head toward his lips. The instant he kissed her mouth, she could feel herself crumbling to the delights of male attention like a wayward schoolgirl. Well, it had been nine days.
It didn't take much before they were both heavily involved in an embrace that had her all flustered in mere minutes. The caress of his tongue and the warmth of his mouth was clouding any sense of indignation she had planned to unleash on her arrival, or perhaps after Lucius had left given that unexpected interruption.
Not to mention, this was probably the worst time to christen the other couch. Hermione groaned into his mouth and reluctantly pushed him away.
"This is too much," she said.
He slid back against the couch, reluctantly. 'Great,' she thought. She certainly could repel him just as quickly.
"I thought we said we would just go with it?" he said after a few breaths.
"Right," she murmured. Hermione stood up. "I see. You're just happy to go along with this until the game is up. Until your duties or whatever your father has planned for you come around." Lucius' serpent heirloom flashed before her eyes.
He narrowed his eyes in bemusement. "Granger, what has gotten into you?"
Fumbling mentally, she didn't even know how to broach the subject. "I am not interested in being some woman you see on weekends for a good time, Malfoy." There, she said it – probably a little too bluntly.
Mild surprise crossed his face before he shook his head. "Is that what you think I mean by it?"
"Just forget it. It's not why I came here anyway," she dismissed.
He did not look impressed. "I can't keep up with you, Granger! Tell me what it is you want."
"The Minister expects you to say a few words after his speech on Saturday. There is also the suggestion that we hold a silent auction to raise –
"Granger –
"- money for St. Mungo's Research. There is also the issue of the Minister's intention to give the Muggle Prime Minister a subscription, so we need you to sign this consent form to conceal your ad space, or a confidentiality waiver if you prefer your –
"Will you just –
"- company name to remain visible. I also have with me a copy of the Ministry's guest list for you to add to, a sample invitation for your approval, and the proposed schedule for the evening. The invites need to go out with tomorrow's Owl post. I also have a contact for your advertising department to get in touch with if you would like to display any logos or banners on the evening, but we –
"Hermione, enough!" He stood up, his irritation apparent.
Stunned by his commanding tone, Hermione went quiet and wave of silence crashed around them. He had made it sound so personal! She shut her eyes to control the building sting threatening the onslaught of tears now that she had stopped her incessant talking. When had she become a self indulgent, testy female – the very type she had always judged with amusement?
Hermione looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It might be best if we leave it for today," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
She could hear his feet move across the carpet, the distance of the sound growing. When she finally let her eyes search for him, he was standing at the window behind his desk looking out. He had taken his jacket off and thrown it on the back of the chair. She watched as he lifted an arm up to rake his hair, the satin back of his vest tightenening around his torso, catching the light in the room.
"You're right."
She nodded, her lips pursed in defeat as she pulled the file of documents from her handbag to place them on the table. Without saying another word, she rushed to exit, not bothering to shut the door behind her or even acknowledge the assistant on her way out.
That night, Hermione sat down and wrote Harry an Owl, enclosing an invite, not caring that it wasn't Malfoy approved, asking – no, begging – him to try and make it. She needed him there.
She had made a royal mess of it all, and now, all she could do was resign herself to the fact that she had got it all wrong. Him all wrong. Acceptance was difficult, especially when it was her fault.
Sitting at her kitchen table, Hermione ran her palm across her forehead, closing her eyes. She had finally fallen over the edge of her mental boundaries and had defied her one overarching rule.
Any semblance of control in any facet of her life was lost with the wind along with her dignity.
