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 Glorioux, Lima Bean and Valady – my brilliant betas. A special thanks goes also to my consultant Ignaty.

To Be a Woman

Chapter Eighteen

Love—TheMalfoy Style

Wednesday Morning

Lucius woke up at dawn with his hands full of the young, supple, and deliciously fragrant body. That was an exceptionally pleasant awakening indeed, and, to be honest, the best in an awfully long time. Soft as a kitten, Hermione was peacefully curled in his arms. Her mahogany locks covered his chest like a silk throw. The wizard plunged his nose into the sea of tangled curls and inhaled deeply. She smelled of sex, him, and summer. Oh yes, she smelled of him, and the scent was exquisite on her.

Lucius tightened his grip around the witch, humming contentedly into her forehead, as erotic memories from a few hours earlier filled his mind. Last night, he made a notable effort to mark each and every inch of her skin as his own. He simply couldn't stop himself. She awoke his primal instincts to claim, and who was he to resist such a powerful call.

He had long forgotten how it felt to have the young witch in his bed. However, he was reminded about it yesterday. Hermione had done it boldly and fiercely, in a true Gryffindor manner so to speak. Now, he was convinced that he would not be able to forget. This morning, the thought of life without the silky softness of Hermione's young skin under his palms, or without the thrilling willingness of her pliant flesh seemed unbearable. He yearned for her unquenchable eagerness and insatiableness already. Heck! He needed her, all of her—her brown eyes, her wild hair, her scent, her stubbornness, her wittiness, the purity of her thoughts, everything. She was his newly found fountain of youth—his and his only, his witch, his future wife, his new Lady Malfoy.

Merlin, she was divine last night, groaned Lucius, and his fingertips ventured down, tracing the soft, smooth lines of Hermione's back. Slowly, his fingers crept toward her bum, until he had his palm resting right on the plump cheek. Lucius tenderly snaked his other hand around her waist and sighed, there, the perfect position to meet the sunrise.

As bright orange beams enthusiastically streamed into the room, Lucius suddenly remembered Hermione's habitual trips to the beach the past four mornings. "Arghh," he growled. Finally, finally, he had the right to join the witch in her skinny-dipping but alas, there were no signs that she was planning to arise from her slumber anytime soon. Damn.

For a short moment, the wizard considered the idea of wakening her. However, being previously married for a long time, Lucius knew all too well that thinking about it was one thing, but doing it was another!

Oh well, chuckled the wizard to himself, as a smug smile crept over his features. And really, my darlings, Lucius could blame only himself for keeping the witch up for half of the night. He had just utterly worn Hermione out. There was life in the old fox yet, after all.

Lucius managed to snuggle even closer to the witch in his arms. He inhaled deeply once again, nuzzling her hair. And, with his nostrils full of Hermione's intimate scent, he lulled himself into sweet morning slumber.

A few hours later when Lucius opened his eyes, he was immediately captured by Hermione's chocolate irises, which were focused on him with an expression he couldn't quite place. She watched him silently with serious, thoughtful eyes. Under Hermione's intense gaze he, Lucius Malfoy, unexpectedly and inexplicably felt nervously unsure of himself. He remembered his ingenious plan, his lies, and his manipulations. All sorts of troubling speculations jostled in his mind. What was hidden behind that chocolate depth? What was she thinking, while looking at him like that?

Luckily, Lucius wasn't a wizard who can tolerate dangling in suspense for long. He needed the control of knowing what his witch was thinking—the sooner the better. Therefore, in one swift movement, he rolled Hermione over and, keeping her pinned firmly beneath him, asked, "Any regrets, witch?"

Hermione, who giggled and squeaked during the whole manoeuvre, smiled and whispered right into his lips, "Wait, let me think." Then, after a second, she added with a sultry smile, "No, I don't think so, didn't find any, my Lord."

Inwardly letting out a sigh of relief, Lucius arched a single eyebrow at her and smirked, all his foolish doubts evaporating rather quickly. It was an extremely preposterous notion indeed, a moment of weakness. How could he doubt himself, even for a minute?

"Splendid," he whispered thickly against her plump lips, which were still swollen after his previous night's assault. "A light morning entertainment is in order then, my Lady," he murmured. "Spread your legs, my dear." His mouth caught hers in a demanding kiss, and his fingers ventured under the silk sheets, in order to have their wicked way with her.

Thursday Afternoon

As the week progressed, the wizard's ardour for the witch grew more and more powerful, becoming all encompassing, almost uncontrollable. On Thursday, Lucius at last had his long awaited morning swim with Hermione. It was incredible. Hand in hand, they walked to the beach. Awestruck, he watched his siren entering the glowing at dawn Adriatic. When she turned and beckoned him to follow, entranced by the sight, he obliged quite eagerly. The moment the warm waves began to wash over his shoulders, she straddled him and circled her long arms around his neck, grinding into him with fervour. The sensuous way the young temptress grated her nipples, tightly beaded from the Adriatic waters against his chest, caused him to go utterly wild. First, he hungrily ravished her on the beach, and then for a long while inside the cottage, leaving them breathless and pleasantly exhausted in the tangled heap of limbs and silk bedcovers.

Even now, after dinner, while our lovers lay intertwined in the hammock, basking in the afternoon sun, he still could feel the succulent taste of Hermione's skin mixed with the sea salt on his tongue.

Earlier, during the meal, it was decided they would go back to England on Saturday morning. Their impending return brought up the topic of the Ministry, Hermione's career, and her plans on the political field. When Lucius asked her why she decided to venture into politics in the first place, she fell silent for a minute. The answer that followed surprised him quite a lot.

"For Harry, I decided to do this because of him," she muttered softly. "Not only because of him of course, but still…" Hermione traced off, watching the sky, her eyes suddenly watery.

"I never said this to anyone, but I think Harry's death was my fault." One tiny tear made its way from the corner of her eye.

Lucius frowned, trying to understand, to find some sense in her words. If he remembered correctly, some stray Muggle, in some Muggle shop, had killed Potter. Lucius was beyond puzzled by Hermione's cryptic revelation. "What are you talking about, Hermione? How it could be possibly your fault? Explain, my dear, because right now you are not making any sense."

Hermione kept her chocolate eyes focused on the sky. "The day Harry was shot, we had lunched together. I," Hermione paused for a second and turned her tear-streaked face to Lucius, "it had been close to my time of the month, and I'd had this weird craving. I had been craving a specific Muggle snack. Agh, it is so stupid, I am so stupid!"

At this point, Lucius felt even more confused. "Your time of the month," he repeated bewildered. "What Muggle snack?"

"Crisps, I had wanted crisps. I had told Harry over lunch that I would kill for the bag of crisps right now, and we laughed. He had promised to get them for me. It had been a joke; I hadn't meant it." Hermione pressed her face into Lucius shirt and began to sob quietly.

It took a few minutes for Lucius to connect all the dots in his mind.

"I think it's my fault entirely," softly sobbed Hermione in to his chest.

"Hush, my darling, don't talk nonsense, please. You had nothing to do with it. It was fate's cruel joke. You know it as well as I do. Stop burdening yourself with this immediately, once and for all. I will not tolerate this silliness, witch." And he tilted her face to him, covering her salty skin with kisses.

"Potter's death was not your fault. You should've known better than blame it on yourself." Lucius continued to murmur soothingly, still kissing her damp from tears face.

"One day you will be a great politician, my darling. You already are actually. I felt proud to be able to stand by your side that Thursday, to be the one who supported you. You were magnificent. And you'll become even more powerful, as you have all my skills, all my connections, all my Slytherin knowledge at your disposal. Remember that, witch. We will become invincible." Lucius' grey eyes came alive, as he could practically see their great future together. "The power couple," he whispered under his breath.

He nibbled at her lips, and she opened them for him. His hands caressed her warm softness with tenderness. Gradually, her sobs turned into weak whimpers and then, stopped altogether. Soon, gentle touches became passionate; kisses deepened, and low, guttural moans filled the air.

Friday Evening.

Friday morning met them with rain, giving our lovers one more reason to stay in bed until noon. When they finally made it outside of the cottage, the air was fragrant and heavy with humidity. Azure waves turned to darker, stormier shades of blue, their previous peacefulness entirely forgotten. The actual storm was yet to come later that night, and the sensation of the apprehensive expectancy in the nature around them was palpable and troubling.

Somehow, the stormy atmosphere unsettled Lucius more than he cared to admit. The level of his agitation annoyed him, even though he knew precisely the reason for his internal turmoil. It was their last day in Italy. Tomorrow they were set to return to England, and yet, he had not managed to put his ring on Hermione's finger. He hadn't even said the words to the witch.

You see, my darlings, Lucius Malfoy had never done it before. With Narcissa, their parents had dealt with everything. After all, their marriage had been a business transaction first and foremost. However, this time it was the wizard's very own personal project.

Since Tuesday, there had been enough moments of opportunity for Lucius to close the deal. He also was aware that once they were back in England, his chances would be substantially diminished. Thus, it was crucial to do it while they were still in Italy, and while Hermione was still in his arms with no one around to interfere.

Still, Lucius hesitated. Of course, he could tear the words of agreement from her during their passionate lovemaking. It would be easy, considering how wholeheartedly Hermione had been giving herself to him. Strangely, even though he had previously considered this route, it was now unacceptable. He didn't want to rip it from her, when she was climaxing in his arms. No, he no longer considered this type of manipulation satisfactory. He wanted, and probably rather stupidly so, for Hermione to accept his proposal when she was calm and coherent, perhaps over dinner or during one of their talks. He needed to know that she would understand the consequences of her decision, the true meaning of 'yes'. It was quite an asinine notion, of course, knowing how he got her in his arms in the first place, but Lucius had set his mind and waited rather stubbornly for what seemed to be the right moment.

It was already late in the afternoon when they settled down in the cottage's living room.Dinner had been lovely. Fabio was such a talented and creative cook. The storm outside had finally peaked, and the wind was forcing the small cottage to squeak and creak after each powerful blow. The air inside was warm and humid, setting the mood to a sweet mellowness.

Hermione half sat, half lay in one of the armchairs reading a book she unsurprisingly managed to find even here in Italy, at Malfoy's bachelor shelter. Lucius sat in the second armchair, facing the witch and watching her intently. He could feel almost physically that time was of the essence. Unwavering, the minutes of their time together were disappearing into oblivion. The ring in the pocket of his trousers was burning against his thigh. It was now or never. And never meant his carefully thought out plan would go up the chimney in smoke.

His grey eyes were focused on Hermione, as he leisurely sipped his wine. His outside demeanour was as calm as ever, while his mind was going into overdrive and his heart thudded and throbbed painfully. Bugger, cursed the wizard inwardly. He was not supposed to turn into this kind of crumbling and love-stricken dolt, and yet, here he was—helplessly sitting beside the witch, with the Malfoy ring in his pocket and with sweaty palms.

"Pathetic," hissed Lucius under his breath.

The sound of his displeasure with himself caught Hermione's attention, and she lifted her face to him. "Did you say something?" Her chocolate gaze slid over his unbuttoned shirt, and she smiled warmly, as a light-rosy blush instantly bloomed on her cheeks. A sudden movement caused her curls to fall on her face. A few mischievous locks against her nose caused Hermione to sneeze, once, twice. By the third time, she began to giggle, and Lucius was forced to smirk as well. She did sneeze rather cutely.

"You are sneezing just like a little kitten, do you know that. Tsk, tsk, tsk, and here I am, thinking that I tamed myself a true lioness, when in reality I ended up with a little Kneazle at best." Hermione's laughter lit up Lucius' gloomy mood just a notch. Smirking, he patted his lap and murmured, "Come here, my little feline. Let me scratch you behind the ear. You'll love it."

Hermione put her book away and walked to him. Settling on his lap and sneaking her soft, warm palms under his shirt, she whispered daringly into his ear, "I will purr for you, if you do it right."

Reciprocating, Lucius unbuttoned the front of her dress and cupped her silk covered breast. "Sultry, little minx, I know exactly how to make you purr for me." Then he kissed her, filling the kiss with all his recent concerns and desires just as the air surrounding them was filled with humidity. Momentarily, it seemed to Lucius that he was foolishly trying to convey way too much in one kiss.

When he finally allowed them to part, Hermione was left breathless. Sure enough, the clever girl in his lap sensed his uneasiness. She glanced thoughtfully into Lucius' eyes, evidently confused by the stark contrast between his playful remarks, the passionate eagerness of his lips and the seriousness of his gaze. She watched him with wide and suddenly guarded eyes, worrying her lower lip and looking extremely fragile and vulnerable. Oh yes, remembered Lucius, Hermione Granger had her own demons and insecurities to fight, quite a few of which were brought to the surface by his dear friend Severus.

Lucius finally felt it. Undoubtedly this was the right time. Thus, without further ado, he whispered against her lips in his velvety baritone, "I have a question for you, Miss Hermione Granger. Will you be my wife?"

His eyes were locked on hers, his fingers already gripping the ring in his pocket tightly. Lucius felt how she froze in his arms, and, for a second, he thought that she would run. She didn't. She looked at him for a long, torturous minute, during which her eyes reflected the entire spectrum of emotions she was experiencing. Then, at last, she let her breath go and whispered, "Yes."

In the next instant, the ring was on her finger and the lovers, who were overwhelmed by the tremendous moment, were frantically tearing at each other's clothes. Even though a few stray concerns remained at the back of Lucius' mind, he left them there until another time. For now, he was very much otherwise occupied indeed.

Blond Locks, Blue Eyes, Big Troubles—Prelude

Meanwhile in England, Severus was spending his Friday night as usual. By this time, the sense of acute desperation that haunted him for the first few days after his break with Hermione had long gone. Our Potions master had settled into his comfortable routine, in which a certain amount of misery was expected and duly embraced.

He sat in his library reading a book. The customary glass of firewhisky rested on the side-table. Severus' demeanour was, if not content, then at least calm and relaxed. He had come to terms with his decision to let Hermione go and proceeded with his life without her. Or, at least, that what he forced himself to believe. As we are well aware, Severus Snape knew precisely how to do this. It wasn't his first sacrifice after all.

Luckily, Casimir, who was giving Severus a hard time for most of the week, finally quieted down as well. This brought the wizard relief, because having the hysterical elf in the house had really begun to grate on his nerves.

The book in the wizard's hands was rather engaging. Nothing lulled Severus into peace better than a good Potion book. This particular one had been written many centuries ago and was his all-time favourite.

Murmuring in appreciation, Severus took a little sip of the firewhisky and eagerly turned the page. However, right at this moment, unusually wide-eyed Casimir popped up in the library and announced in his squeaky voice, "Lady Narcissa, Master."

The library's doors flew open, and a vision in blue appeared on the threshold. A light veil of white musk and vanilla immediately enveloped the room, making Severus dizzy and nervous at the same time. The woman who stood at the door was an epitome of classy elegance. Tall and thin, her blond locks were masterfully arranged around her pale face, and her cornflower blue eyes matched her robes perfectly. A soft smile played on her delicate coral lips as she rested her perfectly amicable gaze on our Potions master.

"Severus, I am so glad to see you. How are you, my dear?"

Removing her white gloves, she walked toward him, and the sound of her light steps filled the library. Severus was forced to stand quickly in order to greet the lady properly.

"Narcissa, what a surprise," muttered Severus. Perplexed by the sudden intrusion, he dutifully brushed his lips over the pale knuckled, aristocratic hand she gracefully presented. "Is something the matter?" he asked, facing her and still holding her hand in his.

"Ah, why Severus, maybe I just stopped by to see an old friend." Her pale fingers slid from his hold and traced his jaw line. Her fingertips lingered on his face for a moment, lightly patting his cheek.

When Severus silently arched his brow at her, she let out a soft, melodic laughter and said, "I see you are still the same, darling. You never cared much for polite conversation and proprieties, Severus. Very well then, would you be so kind and tell me where Lucius is? I need him quite urgently."

AN: Here we go, my dear darlings. I hope this is still interesting.

I have a link to Narcissa Malfoy's image ( as I see her) in my profile. Please, check it out.

I am not sure if I should move the story to Hermione/Lucius for now. It doesn't really look logical to me because Severus was playing the front role in it for quite some time (sixteen chapters to be exact). Then again, I can see how it is troubling for the hard core Severus fans to have this story in the Hermione/Severus section. Unfortunately, FF . net is not providing the possibilities to put two main male characters into the summary. Thus for now, I probably move the story to Lumione, even though I do not know the ending yet.

I would love to hear your thoughts. Please.

Thank you. Savva.