I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. I would like to emphasize that this story is here only because Glorioux – my good friend, an amazing author and a brilliant beta, not only had sacrificed her precious time (and sometimes sanity!) and edited it, but also supported me on every step of the way. A special thanks goes also to my consultants Ignaty and Lima Bean. All mistakes are mine, because I tampered with this poor chapter after my beta had checked it.

To Be a Woman

Chapter Fifteen

Her Doubts

Later on that Wednesday night, Hermione Granger, our freshly baked politician, sat in her flat, massaging her aching temples in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure.

Disappointingly, an oppressive sensation of uneasiness constricting her heart wouldn't let go. Not even after her frantic tryst with Severus, which she had so boldly and urgently initiated earlier in the day. A dull ache just kept squeezing her heart in its steel, cold claws with every drawn breath. Hermione sighed and turned her attention to her project, for the hundredth time trying to make it even more perfect that it already was. However, thoughts about Severus and their relationships, along with thoughts about the altogether different wizard, soon found their way to her curly-haired head and engulfed her mind again.

Hermione drew a wistful sigh. Something was clearly not right, and she had known it for some time now. Here, my friends, I want us to stop and spend a few minutes, in order to understand the roots and depth of Hermione's turmoil.

Our young witch became aware of this dreadful, throbbing feeling in her heart on her first morning with Severus after their reunion. While she hastened through the breadth of his bedroom in her morning rush to get to the Ministry on time, she caught Severus watching her intently. His black eyes followed her with an expression she didn't quite know how to read. It wasn't his usual sarcastic smirk, or fury, or that slow burning fire she loved so much. No, it was something entirely different. His pensive gaze made her feel like a traitor, as if she betrayed him by choosing her work over him. The thought made Hermione extremely uncomfortable. She already had felt this way once, with Ron, and she hated that.

Severus of course didn't tell her anything, and she left for work with her heart pressing heavily against her chest. For a few following days, she kept returning to his villa. On some days, she stayed the night; on some, she didn't. Naively, Hermione still hoped for an in-depth and long conversation between them. She truly needed to know where they stood. Alas, Severus wasn't particularly forthcoming, and eventually, our witch, being overwhelmed by her work and her newly found political career, gave up.

The heaviness in her heart wasn't gone though. It was growing, getting heavier and more difficult to endure with every passing day. When Wednesday came, Hermione found herself terribly conflicted. On one side, there was her lover – desperately passionate, agonisingly possessive – yet as inscrutable and uncommunicative as a bloody marble pillar. Although Hermione fancied herself to be in love with Severus, his position of silence infuriated and tortured her excruciatingly. Heck, it was simply unacceptable – she was hanging in suspense for far too long. Plus, his glaring, unfathomable eyes were burning holes in her back every time she was ready to leave for home or the Ministry. Those eyes, full of unspoken pleas and accusations, forced her to feel guilty, even though she had never committed any deception.

On the other side of her life, namely, at work, the situation was completely opposite. Lucius was extremely talkative and attentive. Surely, she did suspect foul play at first. However, day after day, they worked together. They talked, they had lunches, and eventually, she got used to him. At some point during this last week, she even caught herself with theodd notion that Lucius Malfoy listened and talked to her much, much more often than her lover. Thus, there was a fair chance that the blond wizard was better informed about who she was now and what she wanted from life than Severus. The idea was disconcerting, to say the least.

Then again, there was the kiss that Lucius and she had shared after the presentation. She didn't want to think about it, and still a memory did float to the surface of her conscience every so often. The kiss itself was short, and while it wasn't unpleasant, she didn't find it noteworthy at that moment. As you remember, our young witch didn't have a chance to dwell on her actual sensations because a second later she went running after Severus. However, long hours with Lucius' handsome face in proximity finally had pushed a recollection of the kiss to the front of Hermione's mind. The thought of Lucius Malfoy's lips moving over hers brought a fluttering sensation to Hermione's stomach. Darn, it was so bloody confusing. As if her situation wasn't twisted enough already, she could swear that every once in a while she felt how Lucius' heated gaze brushed over her skin, making her hot and tingly all over in the process. Our young witch never managed to catch him at it though. Every time she looked him straight in the eyes – she saw only tepid, measured friendliness there. Damn you, sly, crafty Slytherin!

So, naturally, being jammed between the two wizards, and stressing excessively about her initiative, Hermione wasn't in her calmest state of mind, to put it mildly. Hermione's poor heart was splintered and split by all her doubts and inner conflicts. Moreover, a weird, apprehensive feeling of impending loss, the sensation that something dear to her was slipping away had inserted itself in Hermione's already aching heart. Eventually, the tension became unbearable. She couldn't work, and that is why she eventually dropped everything in the middle of the day and went to Severus. His passion, his flaming desire for her did make her feel better, and for a moment, she felt content. She even managed to calm down enough for a little nap in her lover's arms.

Alas, when Severus' had stubbornly attempted to pursue her to stay, she felt a bit put off. He didn't trouble himself with questions about her work, nor did he give her any reason why he wanted her there with him, except the clipped 'stay' and frenzied coupling. His actions, or better, a lack of them, brought back her uneasiness, along with heartache. She needed to hear more from him than one short word 'stay', and so she left.

Now sitting at her flat Hermione regretted it and felt even worse than before. Questions rolled in her mind over and over. She sighed, absentmindedly twisting one of her long curls. What exactly was she for him? What did he want from her? She was angry with herself for continuing her affair with Severus for so long without the proper discussion of what they meant to each other. She chided herself that she was just as much at fault.

After contemplation for half the night, our straight-laced Gryffindor made herself a promise to resolve this situation at any cost. And even though her project was her main concern for now, she decided that tomorrow, after her presentation, she would corner her beloved Potions master and tear all the answers she so desperately needed from him. And if she would need to spend the whole week interrogating him, or, Merlin forbid, torturing him with her kisses and such – then that would be it. With this plan in mind, Hermione went over her papers a couple final times, just to make sure that everything was all right, and went to sleep for those few remaining hours.

Her Tears

*We could have had it all...

"Severus, wait!" shouted Hermione, swearing under her breath, "bloody, stubborn wizard."

As you can certainly see, my darlings, our young witch had found herself in the same position she was a week ago – running after her lover again. Only this time she was darting through the halls of Malfoy Manor. The dual tappingof their feet on the marble floor created a cacophonous sound, which was bouncing from the stone walls, jarring on her nerves.

"Severus!" shouted Hermione once again. Alas, it looked like this time our Potions master was determined to ignore the young witch. He was keeping his pace steadily, completely oblivious to her pleas to stop.

Anger began to bubble in the witch's heart. She felt stupid and was utterly furious with Severus and herself. She was a grown up and quite accomplished witch, for Merlin's sake. A successful politician and most certainly not some kind of foolish adolescent, and still, she was reduced to constant chasing of her lover through different halls and corridors.

The situation was ridiculous. For a good part of the after presentation cocktail, Hermione tried to get to Severus. However, one or another Ministry official kept stopping her for questions or compliments. The final presentation was a huge success. Lucius had outdone himself with decorations and refreshments. The atmosphere was quite festive and each and every guest just had to talk to the heroine of the day and the host. With Lucius' hand firmly planted around her waist, Hermione was forced to do quite a lot mingling. Severus, on the other hand, refused to move closer to her, and just stood in the far corner, resembling a black cliff with a motley sea of people around him.

At some point, our young politician managed to escape from the crowd and Lucius. She almost reached her beloved black-haired wizard, whose darkened demeanour began to worry her. Unfortunately, she bumped into Kingsley Shacklebolt and once again was forced to talk to him for a good half an hour. In agony, she saw how her lover turned on his heel and left. Thank God Lucius came to her rescue. And even though the blond wizard tried to whisk her away to mingle with someone important, Hermione politely declined and went after Severus again.

Here she was, darting through the Manor and shouting 'Severus' to no avail. Hermione could already see the Floo. Four more of his wide strides and Severus would disappear in its green flames. Hermione huffed and increased her speed. Right at this moment, Severus abruptly stopped and turned to face her, his face a dark and unreadable mask.

"Is there something you wanted from me, Miss Granger?" His ice-cold tone and the use of her last name stopped Hermione dead in her tracks. Looking into his cold, black eyes, Hermione immediately knew that here it was; it was happening now. For a week, she had been subconsciously and apprehensively waiting for this terrible event. Our girl felt how all blood drew from her face. The clamour in her ears became unbearably loud, and cold sweat covered her forehead. She couldn't find her voice, and the air seemed to be too thick for breathing.

"Severus," she winced, feeling how her heart, already wounded by his 'Miss Granger', was profusely bleeding into her chest cavity.

"Miss Granger," Severus continued in monotonous, detached voice. "I think you need to return to your many admirers. Your crowd awaits Miss Granger." And with this, he turned to leave.

Desperate to stop him, Hermione cried out, her voice breaking, "Severus, wait, what about us? Please, wait, we need to talk." The wizard stopped but didn't face her. Standing with his back to her, he answered, his voice even more dull and lifeless, "We had a fine affair, Miss Granger. It was pleasant while it lasted, but now it is over. Have a good life, Miss Granger. Please, pass my congratulations to Lucius. He is a fine match for you." And in the next second the Floo's flames swallowed him.

Hermione uttered a fierce shriek as a sudden fury burst inside her chest, "Oh no you don't, you bastard!" She hectically grabbed a handful of Floo powder and jumped into the fireplace, fully intending to hex the damn wizard into tomorrow. To her surprise, a minute later she ended up on her bum, on the floor, in front of the same Malfoy Manor's Floo. She sprang up and tried again, then again and then again, already wailing in full-blown hysteria.

Eventually, the familiar voice behind her drawled softly, "He closed the Floo, Hermione. It is futile to try to reach him now. It is time to give up." Two strong arms lifted the sobbing witch from the cold marble, and our heartbroken girl found herself crying her eyes out into the expensive robes of Lucius Malfoy.

The night went by in a blur for her. Among few things she remembered were how first, she cried. Then she cried some more. Then, Lucius, evidently tired of her tears, forced a cup of tea upon her. After tea, she talked nonsense – about her life, about Harry, about Ron. All the while, her head lay on Lucius' lap, and he was gently smoothing her curls, giving her an opportunity to pour out her soul to him. At some point, most likely in the middle of her speech, she fell into the blackness of restless slumber, still right there in Lucius' sitting room, with her head in his lap.

Friday morning came when Wrinkly, Lucius' house elf, brought a letter from the Ministry. Apparently, poor Lucius had to spend the night sitting. With difficulties, they both moved from their uncomfortable positions. Finally, after a few unsuccessful attempts to open the scroll with his fingers which were slightly numb and uncooperative after this hellish night, the letter was opened and read aloud. Kingsley Shacklebolt took it upon himself to inform Lucius that Hermione's initiative went through without a single vote against it.

Hermione's tired and depressed mind couldn't thoroughly comprehend the news, so she began to sob again. This time, after a low growl, "That's enough," she found herself in Lucius' arms once more and felt a familiar pull of a Portkey. After that, everything went black.

Her Heart – Prelude

A vague, mellow sound of waves breaking off the shore reached Hermione's ears, and she stirred under silk sheets. With a sigh, she peered from under her eyelashes, not inclined to open her eyes fully just yet. Diffused afternoon sunlight streamed into the room, and for a minute or so, our young witch unabashedly basked in the suns' pleasant warmth, enjoying its soft caresses on her skin. Stretching lazily, she turned and shifted in bed, allowing the rays to cover her with their whispery, warm kisses.

The sound of a gently opened door and light steps made her tense slightly. A moment later, she heard a soft, familiar baritone murmuring into her ear, "Are you awake, darling?"

Hmm, Lucius, she thought. Lucius?

At that moment, reality crashed on our poor, young witch and mercilessly knocked the air from her lungs. In mere seconds, everything that had transpired during the last twenty-four hours rushed through the witch's mind.

A muffled cry escaped her mouth and tears filled her eyes again.

A soft hand came to rest soothingly on her shoulder, and Lucius whispered, "Shh, my dear, shh, enough tears, darling, please."

AN *We could have had it all...– Adele/Rolling in the Deep

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