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 Nineteen

Blond Locks, Blue Eyes, Big Troubles

"Very well then, would you be so kind and tell me where Lucius is? I need him quite urgently." Smiling politely, Narcissa waited patiently for Severus' response.

The wizard, on the other hand, barely managed to catch a sharp reply right before it could escape from his mouth. Huffing in annoyance at his reaction to Lucius' name, Severus paused and drew a supposedly calming breath. The powdery scent of vanilla and white musk immediately filled his nostrils, bringing on long forgotten memories. You see, my darlings, even in Hogwarts, Narcissa had never failed to make our snarky wizard uncomfortable in a decidedly odd way, in an all over warm and tingly way to be precise. There always had been something deeply unsettling in her masterfully showcased femininity.

Keeping his face blank, Severus contemplated his next move. As our Potions master wasn't even slightly inclined to explain the cause of the sudden termination of his friendship with Lucius, he was purposely dragging the suspense. By his prolonged silence, Severus hoped to draw out more information from the witch. He knew quite well that for the last seven years she had managed to avoid England altogether. Not that Severus could blame her for that. The war had marked and tainted everybody, and Narcissa was no exception. Thus, he was indeed rather intrigued by Narcissa's sudden reappearance.

As the pause continued, the witch's polite smile faltered ever so slightly, and with an elegant arch of her impeccably trimmed eyebrow she gently prompted, "I thought Friday night was your customary poker night with Lucius. Is it not anymore, Severus?"

"As you can certainly see, it is not." His reply sounded a bit more sarcastic than he intended. Severus himself began to wonder where Lucius had gone, and all kinds of suspicions began to gnaw at his insides. "I assume – he isn't at the Manor, and Wrinkly isn't cooperating, right?"

Narcissa nodded, not getting into any details, however. Now, he was practically certain that Lucius had gone somewhere with Hermione, and disturbing images of them together bolted thorough his mind. Being very much aware of Narcissa's inquisitive gaze, carefully noting his every move and expression, Severus deftly turned the tables. "Pray tell, Narcissa, what is so urgent? If I remember correctly, you haven't been exactly on friendly terms with Lucius after the divorce."

With a sigh and a hint of weariness in her perfectly articulate speech, she explained, "Draco's wife is pregnant, Severus. The baby is due any moment now. It's a boy, the new Malfoy heir."

When Severus shot her an incredulous look, she nodded again, "Yes, yes, I am sure you had heard about the French girl Draco had been living with for the last three years. Her name is Margot. They married in a private civil ceremony a year ago." The witch drew a heavy sigh, looking worried and vulnerable. Severus regarded her thoughtfully and gestured for her to sit down. When she settled in one of the armchairs, he sat near her.

"As you know, Draco has cut off all communications with Lucius. He, however, has kept me informed about his whereabouts all this time. I had met Margot two years ago. She is a lovely enough girl, very French…"

Very French. Severus couldn't help but smirk at this mere hint of her discontentment with Draco's choice, which was demonstrated in authentically Malfoy manner.

"… a divorcee," Narcissa continued, "and only slightly older than Draco. When they had decided to marry, I had been trying to make him reconsider his attitude toward Lucius. Of course, it had been all for naught. You know the Malfoys, Severus. They all are stubborn to the core."

Narcissa drew another heavy sigh and gently touched Severus' hand. "This situation probably had been my fault. I shouldn't have showed my disappointment with Lucius in front of Draco."

"Nonsense. Draco wasn't exactly a child when you divorced Lucius, Narcissa. By that time, he was an adult, fully capable of having his own opinions and making his own decisions. I think that in this particular case Lucius reaped exactly what he had sown," murmured the Potions master.

"You are probably right, Severus, as always. However, with the baby due to be born any minute, I want them to reconnect again. The baby will be a Malfoy, and he will need to know his roots and his grandfather." The bright blue irises focused on Severus again, and Narcissa continued, "Tell me, Severus, what happened between you two? Are the rumours true? Did you and Lucius really clash over Hermione Granger?"

Severus only managed to growl in exasperation. Shit, he cursed inwardly, damn this tight-knit society, where everybody knows everything.

"I see, darling. There is nothing wrong in seeking a little bit of happiness, Severus." A soft hand covered his callused one for a few seconds, and a knowing smile touched her features. A moment later Narcissa stood up, "Please forgive me for the intrusion. I'll be going now. I don't want to miss the birth of my grandson."

The wizard attempted to stand up, but the slender hand gently patted his shoulder. "That's alright, dear. I am certain I can find my way out. If anything, your little yellow-eyed elf will help me." The sound of her light steps filled his library once again. Already near the door, Narcissa turned to him and said, "Do come for tea sometime, Severus. Draco will be happy to see you; they will be staying with me for a while. And, I am always happy to see you as well." The next minute she was gone, leaving only a cloud of an intoxicating fragrance.

Severus slumped in his armchair as all sort of suspicions, doubts and questions jostled in his head, laced with fury at Lucius and even more at himself. The lingering scent of vanilla and musk in the air, however, brought one intriguing thought to the forefront of our Potions master's mind.

Did Narcissa just make a pass at me? Hmm…

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow*

Saturday morning in Italy was filled with sweet, languidly paced lovemaking. The urgent need our lovers had yesterday turned into a slow burning desire.

Luckily, by dawn, the storm was long gone, and the Adriatic welcomed them into its warm, azure waters for the last time before their return to England. Their nude bodies glowed enticingly in the sun's first rays, and their limbs grazed sensually against each other. Following intricate patterns, their lips and tongues slowly traced wet, salty trails that water drew on their skin. There was no rush, no impatient foreplay to skip. Every moment was stretched and every second was savoured thoroughly.

During breakfast, they sat hip to hip, not willing to allow even an inch of a distance between them. Lucius' grey gaze was fixed on Hermione as if his eyes just couldn't get enough of her. I am behaving like a pathetic, lovesick adolescence, and I bloody love it,smirked the wizard to himself, while he was shifting even closer to her.

Listening to the witch's happy chirping, thoughtfully watching her animated face, he kept his palm on her round knee. The feel of her smooth, warm skin under his hand was calming, her soft murmuring reassuring. And today Lucius needed exactly that because, my dear darlings, from the moment our wizard opened his eyes in the morning, he couldn't shake off the feeling of an impending loss.

Even though he was truly looking forward to their return to England, and even more so to their future life together, the knowledge that they would not be able to relive those precious, magical moments they had spent here saddened him. Everything that transpired between them in Italy – the carnival, their first time, their morning swims, his witch's little sneezes, her emotional 'yes'– all of it would remain in this little cottage forever. That sadness caused Lucius' heart to swell in his chest – a rare response for him.

Fighting with his misbehaving heart, and trying to find his missing composure, Lucius turned his attention to the ring on Hermione's finger, noticing with satisfaction how well the Malfoy ring looked on her. Covering her small hand with his, he let his mind venture further in the future. The thoughts about wedding arrangements, and new political opportunities, flowed into his head in brightly coloured streams. Oh, yes, their happily-ever-after looked iridescent.

Alas, Lucius' basking in his candied dreams didn't last long. As usual, along with those dreams, his keen mind brought to the surface of his consciousness yesterday's worries and doubts. Some of them, he considered mere hiccups, which didn't seriously alarm our beloved white peacock.

First hiccup, so to speak, was Severus, and Lucius genuinely believed that he did eliminate that problem by putting his ring on Hermione's finger and receiving her 'yes'.In wholeheartedness, of which he was positively sure, she was a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake. The second issue was public opinion. The negative reaction of the crowd could be uncomfortable for Hermione, and that was unacceptable. His lady should always be able to keep her head high. Thus, he would see to it – public opinion could be bought just like many other things.

His main concern, however, remained unresolved. He knew quite well, that his lies, manipulations, and underhanded ways that had allowed him to lure Hermione into his arms wouldn't stay hidden forever. And if or when Hermione found out about his role in her first presentation's fiasco or about his talk with Severus, there would be no mercy for him. His little lioness wouldn't tolerate secrets and games. The only solution Lucius saw was to tell Hermione at least the partial truth. Otherwise, any accidental discoveries could ruin everything between them. He could easily lose his witch over that.

"No," he growled and squeezed Hermione's hand.

The witch just finished her fruit salad and turned to him with a smile. "What is it, Lucius?" Her bright, chocolate eyes focused on him.

"No, you ate all the salad, you little sybarite, and didn't leave even one piece of a melon for me. How could you?" murmured Lucius, covering his concerns with mock outrage.

Hermione giggled, "I did leave a little bit for you. Here." Not bothering with the spoon, she gathered the last pieces of fruits and began to hand-feed her lover. That led to laughter and kissing, which led to hot, farewell sex on the cottage's dining table.

Around a quarter to two, they were finally clothed and ready to leave. By then, Lucius reached a decision that he would talk to Hermione the moment they arrived at the Manor. He simply couldn't bring himself to ruin their last moments in Italy. He promised himself to deal with it in England.

When the cottage's clock chimed two times, after giving his last instructions to Fabio, Lucius walked into the living room. Hermione stood by the window, looking at the beach wistfully. He wound his arm around her waist and whispered, "Ready?"

"Yes," she replied with a sigh. Turning to face him, Hermione let out a breathy, "Kiss me."

He did, eagerly so. Moments later, a Portkey took the couple, who were still kissing, back to the foggy island and reality.

Comeuppance

They landed in the Manor's sitting room, and Wiltshire met them with its habitual greyish overcast beyond the Manor's monumental windows. The stark contrast between the warmth of Italy and the refreshing crispness of the Manor's air made Lucius shiver. His hold on Hermione tightened as he instinctively drew her closer to him. He could clearly feel something looming over his head. The talk,he reminded himself.Our Lucius Malfoy was many things, my darlings, but a coward he wasn't. So, he drew an inward sigh, braced himself and sprang into action.

Kissing Hermione's curls, he chuckled at the fact that his little Kneazle was not at all in a hurry to untangle from his embrace. "Welcome home, my dear lady," he murmured playfully in his deep baritone.

Hermione gasped, and her eyes found his, the full-scaled consequences of her 'yes' finally dawning on her. Smirking, he continued, "It's your home now, Hermione." Taking advantage of her state of mind, Lucius manoeuvred the slightly dazed witch toward the settee.

"Mustn't we have an outrageously pompous ceremony first?" asked his witty kitten with a giggle, as she curled comfortably across his lap and snaked her fingers in his hair.

"Oh, yes, yes, of course, that we must. I, however, prefer you move to the Manor today. I do not see any point in procrastinating, Hermione." Lucius lowered his voice to a sensual whisper, and nibbling at Hermione's neck, asked, "Will you, my lady? Will you share my bed tonight?"

"Oh, well, I did say 'yes', didn't I," she whispered back in the same sensual manner, though a bit breathless. "Then I guess there is only one answer – I will, my Lord."

"That's my girl," purred Lucius and their lips met in another scorching kiss, the heat of which surely scared the hell out of those damned grey clouds and cold air.

"Hermione, I need to tell you something important, something you will most certainly not like," began Lucius the moment their mouths separated. "But before I do, I need to confess." He fixed his gaze on her and continued, "Hermione, I lo–"

The door to the sitting room flew open and unannounced Wrinkly appeared on the threshold, "Master Lucius, you are back. It is splendid." The elf paused for a minute and scanned Hermione's fingers. Noticing the ring and nodding to himself, he added with a slight bow, "Lady Hermione, welcome home." Turning his massive head back to Lucius, who was quite peeved by the interruption, the elf walked closer and presented his master with the silver tray with two letters on it. "Lady Narcissa comes to the Manor yesterday, Master. Lady leaves a letter for you and sends the owl just now. It says urgent."

"Narcissa," echoed Lucius in bewilderment and took the letters from the tray. His arm was still holding Hermione firmly on his lap, as if he were afraid that something could snatch her from him. For a minute, the wizard just looked at the letter and the note with elegantly written mark 'urgent' on it.

The elf bowed once again and disappeared with a quiet pop.

After a short contemplation, Lucius reluctantly shifted the witch on to the settee, stood up and walked to the window. He opened the note first and read it. Then, more urgently, he tore open the letter.

Hermione, startled by his audible gasp and noticeably trembling fingers, sprang up and joined him by the window. "What is it, Lucius? What happened?"

"I am a grandfather, Hermione. Draco's son, Scorpius, was born today at noon. They are at Narcissa's villa in France. Draco got married a year ago. The Malfoy heir was born an hour ago. They are waiting for me to meet my grandson." The wizard's speech was clipped, his voice was hoarse, and his eyes were filled with emotions.

A genuine, bright smile graced Hermione's face, as she embraced him, "That's wonderful, Lucius. You shall go to them now."

"Yes, I shall." Deeply engrossed in his thoughts, the wizard stepped back from her embrace and began to methodically pace the breadth of the sitting room. Suddenly, after three minutes of silent pacing, he stopped in front of the witch and took her hands in his, "Come with me. I want you to be there. Come."

Hermione began to shake her head even before he finished, "No, no, Lucius, it's not the right occasion."

"Will you wait for me then? Will you be here when I return, witch? There are issues we need to talk over. I need you to be here, Hermione." He kissed her, desperately seeking reassurance in her lips.

"Yes, yes, I will be here. I might go and gather some things from my flat while you are gone. Go, Lucius, your grandson awaits." And with one final caress, the wizard was gone.

When five hours later Lucius returned to the Manor, he was exhausted, overwhelmed, but happy. His main desire was to share his news with the little witch. With urgency, he called 'Hermione' the moment he stepped out of the Floo. However, instead of Hermione, in front of him appeared Wrinkly. Once again, the elf held the silver tray with a letter.

"Lady Hermione goes out and never returns. She sends a letter instead," stated the elf.

With a dreadful sense of déjà vu, Lucius took the letter.

Dear Lucius,

I just had a reality check thanks to a certain friend who came by and opened my eyes on some facts. I must admit that not all of them were entirely new for me. Some of the aspects I actually knew all along. I just chose to ignore them, I guess. Oh well, gravity caught up with me eventually. You played your game well, Lucius. You had me fooled and utterly smitten. I fell for you. And oh Merlin, did I fall hard…

Congratulations… and good-bye.

HG

PS. Please do not try to contact me. I need time to think.

"No," hissed the wizard through his clenched teeth. "No," he growled louder, while his fist crushed an innocent, century-old statuette.

Next, he tried to Floo to Hermione's flat. He was blasted out of course. After the wizard landed on his living room rug in the most undignified manner, for the next few hours, the Manor was filled with sounds of violent destruction. I'll just say that poor Wrinkly had quite a lot to fix in the morning.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention. One little, yellow-eyed elf was smirking with happiness and pride this evening. "Casimir is no dimwit," triumphantly croaked the little creature to himself, while he drank his jasmine tea in his tiny room.

*Shakespeare/Romeo and Juliet Act 2, scene 2, 176–185

Sorry, sorry, my dear darlings. This chapter was almost ready last Saturday... BUT, then, snow storm, power outages and 'effing' shingles happened. So, here we are, a week later. Sorry again.

Please, please review. Thank you. Savva.