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 thank my beta Glorioux – my good friend, an amazing author and a brilliant beta, not only had sacrificed her precious time (and sometimes sanity!) and supported me on every step of the way. Huge thank you to Valady for giving this chapter a much needed polishing. A special thanks goes also to my consultants Ignaty and Lima Bean.

To Be a Woman

Chapter Sixteen

Her Heart

I let it fall, my heart
And as it fell, you rose to claim it
It was dark and I was over
Until you kissed my lips and you saved me*

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 n 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 sob lodged in Hermione's throat, making it once again hard to draw a breath. A renewed sense of loss and anger caused heartache's dull dagger to twist inside the young her chest. Hermione felt her soul began its slow descent into the black pit of depression.

However, this time, a deep, velvety drawl saying, "Enough tears, darling, please," didn't allow her to fall into the melancholy. Lucius' gentle fingers softly, but determinedly, turned Hermione's face towards him, and she met his light grey eyes. Lucius was sitting on the edge of the bed, and his gaze, shimmering in the afternoon sun, was focused on her. Tsk-ing under his breath, he deftly conjured a thin, batiste handkerchief and wiped away her tears. "There, much better," he murmured, giving her a slightly patronizing smile.

The blond wizard's proximity, along with the spicy scent of his cologne, brought back to her the recollection of the previous night. Half of which Hermione had spent pressed firmly into his chest, wetting it with her tears, and the rest with her head cuddled on his lap. Hence, after everything that had transpired between them last night, it felt perfectly normal and maybe even right when Lucius' soft fingertips brushed a stray curl from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear.

A sudden return to her gloomy reality overwhelmed Hermione rather heavily. Thus, for a while, she simply laid there, trying to find and gather the strength to move, to breathe, and to live. After a thorough search into the depths of her soul, she came out empty-handed and exhausted. Unable to find any willpower to fight, our young witch did what her survival instinct told her to do – she focused on the warm hand that continued to skim gently over her face. Her eyelids fluttered and fell shut, still heavy from slumber. Hermione let out a shuddered breath, and wholeheartedly gave into Lucius' comforting gesture.

The wizard's warm fingers traced the delicate oval of her face. His hand felt confident and insistent, awakening the familiar tingling and hotness in the pit of her stomach. When Hermione sensed the back of Lucius' hand brushing against her cheekbone, and felt its slow descent towards her neck, she shivered and let out a ragged sigh. His knuckles tickling and teasing her sensitive skin, warming her, drawing her closer, forcing her to sink hopelessly in a pleasurable trance.

Slowly, but surely, Lucius' lingering touches and whispery caresses surrounded Hermione in an intoxicating atmosphere of sensuality, lifting her sombre mood and depression in the process. Unconsciously, Hermione leaned into his sinfully masterful hands, implicitly welcoming and encouraging his game of seduction. With her breathing rapidly increasing, she arched her body over the silk sheets, giving Lucius more access, more freedom, wanting to feel more of his caresses. And those dexterous fingers were only too happy to oblige, stroking her face, tracing her lips, and teasing her springy curls.

However, when the bed shifted slightly, and Hermione sensed Lucius' hot breath ghosting over her lips, her eyes flew wide open in surprise. Lucius' grey eyes were just above her, staring into hers intently. Being captured by their hypnotizing lucidity, Hermione couldn't move. For a while, they simply stared at each other. There was a moment, when Hermione could swear that she saw a hint of something familiar in Lucius' gaze – the same fiery, intense desire she saw so many times in Severus' eyes. Her breath hitched involuntarily, and her heart sped up in inexplicable anticipation. She lowered her eyes to his lips and waited. The air between them suddenly became thick and hot. Their breath was laboured; their chests heaved; their nostrils flared. The only thing our girl wanted at that moment was for those wilful lips to capture hers. Oh, how appealing and comforting they looked. She was sure that those lips could make her forget everything – the dull ache in her heart, Severus' black eyes and his cold rejection – absolutely everything. Alas, the blond wizard uttered a low, husky growl, and before long, the raw fire was concealed under tamed, friendly concern. Lucius smiled at her resolutely, pushed himself off the bed and walked to the window.

Hermione wasn't about to acknowledge her disappointment with the wizard's abrupt withdrawal. She knew it was for the best since she was truly very much out of sorts. Thus, it is neither the time nor the place, she chided herself. Oh, and by the way, about the place,the witch suddenly remembered.

"Where are we, Lucius? Where did you take me? I don't remember agreeing to go anywhere with you." Only now, watching Lucius standing by the window, Hermione noticed that he wasn't wearing his traditional pompous ensemble. There were only a light grey trousers and white shirt on him. No robes, no waistcoats, no cravats, and no snake-headed cane were in sight. And he looked rather... different. His skin glowed enticingly, as the afternoon sun played in the blond hair that covered his chest, and quite visible thanks to an unbuttoned shirt. In embarrassment, our young witch felt a blush creep across her cheeks. With difficulty, Hermione managed to tear her eyes from the glowing wizard and looked around.

Meanwhile, Lucius extended his hand to her and said, "Come, I will show you where we are."

At this, Hermione at last turned her attention to exactly what she was wearing. With all the heartache and tears, she had entirely forgotten about that little detail. To her relief, she was still wearing the silk slip, which she wore under her robes yesterday. Turning around, she spotted her robes on the chair near the bed. It was obvious that the clothes were folded with a spell. Thank God, phew.Hermione let out a breath she was holding. She hoped genuinely that the wizard didn't peek while disrobing her when she had blacked out that morning. However, to be honest, she wasn't terribly concerned – it was done, and there was nothing she could do about it. Besides, she had a more pressing matter at hand now. How was she to get to her robes with the wizard in the room?

Understanding Hermione's predicament and playing the gentleman, Lucius turned fully toward the window and gave her the opportunity to reach and grab her robes. Hermione quickly jumped off the bed and immediately regretted it. Her head began to spin, her vision blurred, and she slumped back on the bed. She was unpleasantly reminded about the sleepless night spent in tears. When the dizziness subsided, the witch stood up slowly, put her robes over the slip and hastily wrapped them around her body. Still feeling somewhat unsteady, she walked toward the wizard, carefully looking at her feet.

When she came to stand near Lucius and peeked through the window, the view that greeted Hermione's eyes momentarily blinded her with its beauty. She stood there speechless. Reverently the witch took in the long, white sandy shore with azure waves, which lazily licked the sand and glistened arrogantly in the gloaming. The scenery was simply breathtaking.

"Where are we, Lucius?" Hermione managed to breathe out, still watching out of the window in awe.

"Italy. This little cottage has been kept in my family for centuries. It is passed on from father to son. Do you like it here, dear?" With this, Lucius put his hand on Hermione's shoulder and turned her towards him. His two fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. The wizard's chocolaty baritone crept sneakily into our girl's heart, inflaming it, causing it to miss a beat or two.

"I believe, you are on holidays starting from this Friday. Stay with me here, Hermione. If you allow me, I can make you feel better, my darling. I promise. Will you?"

His intense gaze heated up her skin and her insides much quicker than she cared to admit. His palm on her shoulder moved under her curls and settled confidently at the nape of her neck. Lucius' fingers lifted Hermione's chin a bit higher as they burned her skin with their heat.

"Will you, my darling?" Lucius repeated, lowering his face to her, so his lips were once again hovering directly over Hermione's.

Feeling lightheaded and dizzy, Hermione only managed to mumble, "What about my clothes, toiletries? I don't have anything here." There was no fight left in her, no power to resist. Thus, our young witch parted her lips slightly and leaned closer to the tempting mouth of the one and only Lucius Malfoy.

"We will resolve this little problem of yours, Hermione." A low chuckle forced the air between them to vibrate, teasing Hermione's lips and heightening the sense of anticipation. "Do not forget who you are dealing with, my dear girl." With that, he closed the final half of an inch between them, and their lips finally met in a slow, sensual kiss.

Their first kiss had been hasty and unanticipated, but now, the spicy taste of Lucius' mouth, the mastery of his lips and tongue, and the possessiveness and insistence of his arms, caught Hermione utterly off guard. Somehow, she never expected that cool, elegant, and arrogantly detached Lucius Malfoy could be so... so encompassing in his passion.

She could imagine Lucius to be demanding, yes, but so damn, scorching hot – never. In a matter of seconds, the wizard managed to surround her with his overwhelming presence. Lucius' hand in her hair kept her immobilized. His hungry mouth moved powerfully over hers, and his tongue encouraged their mutual exploration. His other arm snaked around her waist and pressed her tightly against his thighs. Hermione could feel light tremors coursing through Lucius' body. Those little signs of his strong desire for her caused her melt into him. And apparently, those tremors were highly contagious, because soon she began to tremble in his embrace as well.

Lucius' evident arousal, pressing against her stomach, brought her back to reality. She gasped and attempted to pull away from that sinful mouth and his arms. Lucius recognised her condition, and with an almost inaudible grunt let go of her.

Hermione gazed into his eyes and tried to explain. "Lucius, I..." Suddenly, all the right words escaped her. She stood there gasping for air, as a hard lump in her throat began to chock her once again.

"Shh...," he said and two long fingers tilted her chin up. His thumb traced her lips gently, and he said, "I am not in a hurry, Hermione."

Hermione smiled through her teary eyes, sniffled, nodded, and cuddled into the comforting broadness of his chest. With a sigh, she allowed Lucius' spicy scent to cocoon her in its intoxicating cloud.

Yes, my dear readers, at this moment the usually wilful and headstrong witch felt weak and needy. We undoubtedly cannot blame her for that, can we? Our beloved Potions master did manage to break her heart this time. And yes, the wizard by her side maybe was not the right wizard at all. But he was there for her. And, most importantly, this particular man was so insistently demonstrating his readiness to give her the precise thing she so desperately sought that our girl was unwilling to look for any signs of possible deceit or foul play. The formula was truly simple – Lucius Malfoy was offering her his comforting presence, and she, Hermione Granger was severely in need of it. Thus, with no regrets or backward glances for now, she accepted it.

Falling Short of the Mark

As for Severus Snape, this Friday afternoon found him in his lab brewing potions. The afternoon was grim, or perhaps it would be better to say, the atmosphere in the room was heavily saturated with dreadful despondency. In short – the wizard felt miserable.

Yes, my dear ones, since Severus had stepped into his living room and had blocked his Floo on that blasted Thursday night, the nasty, cold and slimy slug of gloom had crept into his chest and settled there, as it had seemed to him, for the time being. It is not that Severus hadn't deserved it there in his chest – he most certainly had. However, in all fairness, let's take a closer look at what exactly had happened after Severus had bid his icy farewell to Hermione, and what had pushed our Potions master to such extremes.

When on Thursday night, Severus walked out of his fireplace; he had been greeted with the darkness and silence of his cold, empty living room. Feeling somewhat sick, he simply stood there for a long while, pressing his feverish forehead to the cool marble mantel. I did the right thing. I did the bloody right thing. Severus had kept repeating to himself in his mind. Yet, with each passing minute, it had been more and more difficult to justify his brutality, even to himself.

"Bollocks," Severus had moaned.

An hour ago, at the Manor, while Severus had watched Hermione surrounded by the admiring crowd, with Lucius' hand snaked possessively around her waist, everything had been so obvious, so apparent to him. Severus had been so sure that his blond ex-friend had been right. Hermione had looked so happy and so proud of herself.

Looking at her, Severus had felt scorching-hot anger filling him up to the gills. He had been furious with himself for foolishly falling in love with the witch. He had been furious with Hermione for being so content when he was miserable. He had been furious with Lucius for being a deceitful arse, and still being so damn right about everything. Soon, each long minute of standing there alone, as an outcast, had become pure torture and agony for Severus. Crystalline peals of Hermione's laughter had been deafening and her bright smiles became blinding.

His jealousy had been killing him. He had been burning, going mad. Then, there had been the last straw in the form of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Severus had recognised it then. The realization finally had dawned on the wizard – there was no space for him near Hermione. He simply did not fit.

Therefore, he had ended it. He masterfully destroyed the fragile harmony they had formed with a few cruel words. It had been the work of a real pro. The only thing he had left to hope for was that Hermione would be happy with Lucius, or whichever wizard she would choose.

Agh, Severus' fist had slammed into the marble. He had not been ready to picture Hermione with Lucius, or any other wizard at all. But, it had been too late for regrets now – he had closed the deal. He had done it and there were no way back.

Of course, as the minutes had been ticking away, and our Potions master had continued to lean on the cold marble mantel in his living room, sneaky doubts had found their way into his head. Was I right? Was it the right thing to do? Before long, these thoughts had overriddenhis reasoning and had filled his mind with remorse.

"Enough," the wizard had growled aloud.

He had needed to stop thinking about Hermione and the sooner the better. A solution had been clear – in order to avoid these self-destructive thoughts and doubts he had to render himself unconscious. Now!

The consumption of a large amount of Firewhisky would have been perhaps the easiest way. However, our ever stoic, or maybe simply masochistic wizard, had not allowed himself just to get pissed. No, Severus had gone to his potion laboratory instead. Once there, he had locked and warded it, preventing Casimir's intervention and then had begun to brew, wholeheartedly thanking Merlin for all the open orders that needed to be filled.

Now, eighteen hours later, Severus Snape was still there, in his lab, still hovering over the steaming cauldron, still brewing. Of course, he was on the brink of collapse from exhaustion. However, taking into consideration that it was his goal in the first place, he was almost at the vortex. He also knew that if he did not remove his wards soon, his house would be destroyed by one pesky and extremely irritated house-elf. Severus could sense, how his devoted elf was methodically trying to penetrate the room. Casimir was never one who would give up easily. Impudent little creature, thought Severus, relentlessly stubborn, just like Hermione.

This thought released a fresh wave of nauseating feelings of loss, which our Potions master had tried to banish from his heart by working himself half to death. The whole plan, however, did not work the way it was supposed to because even though Severus was extremely tired, and completely drained. Still, the hurt look in Hermione's eyes haunted him, and her heart-wrenching cry tortured him.

I did the right thing. Severus told himself for the hundredth time and with finality.

You see, my darlings, our Potions master didn't spend the last eighteen hours only brewing potions. Somewhere between stirring the steaming liquids in the cauldrons and cutting the ingredients, Severus managed to build a beautiful, logical rationalization for his behaviour in his mind. He found a perfect explanation for his actions. And, believe me, it wasn't one with the words jealousy, temper, or stubbornness in it.

No, it was the one that Lucius so conveniently fetched for him the other day. Namely – he loved the witch and so he freed her from himself to give her an opportunity for a better life. More than once during his self-inflicted exile, he reminded himself how strongly he hated the spotlight, and how, most likely, he would never be able to overcome that and aid Hermione in her career. And, at last, as a final argument, our wizard told himself that he never even considered marriage, let alone children. A terribly convincing and comfortable theory, isn't it? Now it was only a matter of time and devotion before Severus himself would begin to believe in it.

"I did the right thing," Severus bitterly chuckled for the last time. With difficulty, he corked the last vial and slumped in the chair, simultaneously removing the wards from the lab. The next instant he heard an angry crack signalling Casimir's arrival.

"Merlin, help me," tiredly muttered Severus and being unable to defeat gravity any longer he closed his fatigued, leaded eyelids.

AN – *Set Fire to the Rain/Adele

Here it is, my darlings. Please, review. Your feedback is truly needed and appreciated. Thank you. Savva