A/N. So, yes. Here we are - YOU STILL GET YOUR MONDAY UPDATE, YEY! If you love Lucius, raise your right hand. If you think he's a slimy bastard, raise your left hand. If you think he's a slimy bastard and you love him anyway, raise both your hands and yell "WOOOOO!" like you're on a rollercoaster.

I just yelled "WOOOOO!" in case you were wondering. Freaked my roommate out. Tis the woes of loving Lucius Malfoy.

If you've read TLM, you'll notice that something Lucius says about hiding is very familiar - it's just such a Lucius thing to say that I needed to use it again!

Note - a certain little scene in here WAS inspired by a chapter from Jane Eyre. If you've read Jane Eyre, you'll know what I mean - if you haven't, then no biggie.

...~oOo~...

Chapter Four: Smoke & Mirrors

Sundays were Hermione's day off. On Sunday, Narcissa would take Draco out to shop for clothes and be out all day. Hermione sometimes tried to steal away to a book store or get some reading done. Hermione was in the sitting room on the second floor when Lucius waltzed in.

Over the past few days since the dinner party, Lucius would sometimes follow Hermione as she took care of Draco, often rambling and boasting about some fact about Malfoy Manor or purebloods or some such nonsense. His boasting became a comforting hum in the background after a while, like white noise you listen to in order to sleep.

"Good, you aren't doing anything," he said without greeting.

Hermione looked down at her book and the cup of tea she had in her hands and sighed. Okay, so maybe he was right.

"Follow me," he ordered.

Begrudgingly, Hermione put her book and tea on the coffee table and got up. "This is my day off," she reminded him as she trailed behind him. "Which traditionally means I don't have to do anything, you know..."

"You said you enjoyed reading, did you not?" he said.

Nodding, Hermione's heart went thump-thump.

"Well, since the library is extremely dangerous, it struck me that you've never been in my study," he said, approaching a door.

"Er... what does that have to do with anything?" Hermione asked nervously. She was given very explicit directions at the start of her stay there that she was not to enter Lucius's study. For any reason.

"I have an impressive collection of safer, less-delicate books that you are more than free to look at," Lucius said, swinging the door to his study open and walking in. He gestured to a very tall book case. "Look around. I'll get the house-elves to bring us tea."

Three things were happening in Hermione's head at the same time. One of them being a very accusatory feeling towards Lucius, like "I could have been drinking tea already if you hadn't pulled me away." Another part was gazing at his books with longing, brushing her fingers down the bindings gently. The final part of her sequence of thought was admiring his study.

It was a large room with a big, cherry wood desk at one end with a sizable portrait of Abraxas Malfoy behind it. On flanking the desk were shelves - shelves of plaques and books and shiny objects kept in glass cases. A long rug covered the long floor, woven with deep, earthy colors. The walls were beige and lined with portraits of blonde men, blonde women, blonde people...

Were the Malfoys ALWAYS blondes?

Apparently.

Her eyes were drawn to an ornate, opal full-length mirror. That was beside the desk. The only reason why she knew it was an opal mirror at all was that the bottom peeked out of the silk sheet that covered it. Peculiar.

The fireplaces was made of dark stone, a small fire burning inside it. Strangely, it didn't smell like burning wood or expensive men's cologne in the room. It smelt faintly woodsy, but like fresh pine.

The sitting area in front of the fire was made up of a glass coffee table, a black leather sofa, a black leather loveseat, its cushion worn.

A tray of tea and scones appeared on the table spontaneously.

"This is a very nice study," Hermione said, taking it all in.

Lucius shrugged. "It serves its purpose."

Hermione hid a grin. So entitled.

"Does Narcissa have a study?" Hermione asked curiously.

Lucius was stacking and putting away parchments on his desk as Hermione walked around the room. He snorted as he tucked away a file into one of the drawers. "My wife has the rest of the house. Think of this as my sanctuary."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please. As if you aren't king of the castle."

"I'm not," he said simply. "I learned a long time ago that no one tells Narcissa what to do. I admire the commanding presence she possesses and the power she holds over most people, but that doesn't mean I want to suffer the consequences of daring to think I am in charge."

"So you hide away in here?" Hermione said, quirking an eyebrow.

"A Malfoy does not 'hide'," he said with a regal sneer. "We bide our time."

In Hermione's experience, Malfoys were experts at hiding.

"Whatever you say," she mumbled under her breath.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the sofa. "Pour yourself some tea."

Just as Hermione was settling into the sofa, the door of the study blew open, along with a deep, drawling voice, saying, "Lucius, I need to speak to... You have company." It wasn't a question, an observation.

Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head. The visitor's voice had been eerily familiar and now she knew why.

Severus Snape, twenty-two years old by Hermione's count, wasn't much different from her memory of him. Tall, lean, lank black hair, hooked nose, pale skin, and a general air of superiority. He wasn't dawning teaching robes like she expected of him, but a simple tailored white shirt and black trousers, the shirt not tucked in, which Hermione found out-of-character.

"Who is this?" Severus demanded, arching one brow cynically at Lucius. "Have I come at an inconvenient time?"

"Not at all, Severus," Lucius said. "Severus, this is Miss Hermione Granger, Draco's governess."

Forcing herself to stand and walk towards the man who would one day be the most terrifying professor in the history of Hogwarts, Hermione held out her hand. "It's a p-pleasure to meet you."

Severus eyed her hand with distaste, but shook it anyway. "A bit young, aren't you?"

"I'm eighteen, sir."

"Hmm," he hummed, displeased. Severus spun around on Lucius. "This isn't another one of your tricks, is it?"

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Lucius said, playing dumb.

"Lucius..." Severus growled.

Lucius sighed dramatically. "If you must know - no, this wasn't one of my schemes to set you up with a fine young woman. Though I should mention how lucky you would be to have such a maternal and intelligent lady as Hermione. But she's off-limits, so don't even think about it."

"Trust me, I wasn't," Severus said. looking Hermione up and down with a curl of his lip.

Hermione frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

"Now! I do believe our tea is getting cold," Lucius said. "Join us, Severus."

Hermione sighed. All she wanted to so was read in blissful solitude, and now she was stuck having tea with her miserable potions professor and the father of her childhood tormentor. How did these things happen to her?

...~oOo~...

It was dark. The Manor was sleeping, but Hermione was not. That evening, after Draco was long since put to bed and her employers sleeping as well, Hermione crept out of her bedroom and looked left and right down the long corridor for any sign of house-elves. There were none and it was very silent.

She'd found a helpful book in Lucius's library that day. It was the first volume of many on extensive wards and protection. In it was a spell that she thought maybe could open the library for her, or at least allow her to pass through the door. It was risky, but Hermione needed to leave - and fast.

It was a very bad thing, meeting Snape that day. She was careful not to make to much of an impression, hoping to God that he wouldn't remember her in nine or so years when she went to Hogwarts for the first time.

Hermione walked very lightly on her feet. The Manor was heavy with curses and trapdoors to confuse and neutralize marauders. She learned this when she found a trick door when she'd been looking for a towel before she took Draco in for a bath. When she walked through the door, she'd ended up on the other end of the house. Narcissa explained what had happened and Hermione was very careful about what she opened from then on out.

She was in her usual pajama pairing of camisole and shorts with a cotton sleeping robe hanging around her while she padded barefoot. If her memory served, she could take a left and walk a little ways towards the library.

But then she saw a door on the way there and had an eery feeling, then noticed why. From the crack in the bottom of the door billowed smoke. Black smoke, curling out into the hall. Immediately, she thought, Fire! But it didn't smell like burning. It smelt like rotting garbage. She gagged, covered her nose and went to open the door, expecting it to be one of the many empty rooms in the house.

The heady stench of sulfur hit her head-on when she shoved the heavy door open. The doorknob hadn't been hot and neither was the room, but it was filling with that smoke. Hermione looked around frantically, trying to figure out where it'd come from.

And then she saw it wasn't an empty room at all. The bed at the end of the room held the sleeping form of Lucius Malfoy, who was breathing heavily, coughing a little, but still deep asleep.

Once Hermione was deeper inside, she realized why. She felt drowsy and had to blink a few times for everything to clear again. Covering her mouth and nose with her robe, she rushed to Lucius and began calling his name.

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy, wake up!" She shook his shoulder as the smoke around them thickened, smelling more and more of rotten eggs. "LUCIUS!" she shouted finally.

Lucius started, opened his eyes, squinting through the black fog at Hermione. "Wha... what are you -"

"Mr. Malfoy, you have to get out of here," she said, yanking him by his elbow. He was coughing, but followed. His body seemed to be heavy and once she pulled him fully from the room, she slammed the door shut and he fell against it.

Lucius coughed for a long time. Smoky, dry coughs and rubbed at his watery eyes. "Christ," he uttered between hacks. "What... what the fuck was that?"

"I haven't a clue," Hermione said, leaning against the wall and wiping the tears from her own eyes.

"How did you know...?"

"I was walking... down the corridor... I was l-lost and saw the smoke," she fibbed. She felt gross, covered in that sooty filth from whatever was pouring into the room.

Taking deep breaths of clean air, Lucius looked over to Hermione and said slowly, "Thank you. I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything," she said. "It was nothing, really."

It was silent for a long minute.

"I know you're curious," Lucius said, standing up straight and stretching his back. It was the first time Hermione noticed her was wearing barely anything - only a pair of pants, flannel-print, which was strange Hermione thought. "Might as well spit it out."

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione said, keeping her eyes on the ground.

"Why I was sleeping in a guest room and not with Narcissa," he said, dragging a hand down his face.

"It's your business, not mine," Hermione said with a shrug.

"My wife and I haven't shared a bed since Draco was born."

"I said it was none of my business."

"But your eyes deceive," he said with a clever little smirk. "You're a horrid liar and, more than that, a curious one."

"Why would I care, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked, shaking her head.

"I rather thought we were becoming friends."

"We aren't, though," Hermione said firmly. "We are employer and employee. Your sleeping arrangements with your wife have nothing to do with Draco, my duties, or my salary. It's none of my business, and it should stay that way."

There was another pause between them. Hermione wrapped her robe around her belly tighter and crossed her arms.

"We could still be friends," Lucius said. "I need friends right now, you see. As I'm sure you've read in the papers, all of mine are in Azkaban."

Hermione gave an involuntary shudder. Azkaban. Thinking about it made her sick. Just the other day in the Prophet, they were celebrating the one year anniversary of incarcerating Sirius Black. It made her stomach turn.

"You were a Gryffindor, I bet," Lucius said out of nowhere.

Hermione hid a smile. "And why do you say that?"

"You wear your emotions plainly on your face," he said with a smirk. "I always know what you're thinking."

"Do you?" she said doubtfully. Seeing as she hadn't been kicked out or killed for being from the future and a muggle-born, she knew he didn't always know what she was thinking.

"I do," he said confidently. "Like right now you are trying very hard not to draw any attention to the fact I'm practically nude."

Alright, he was right on that count. Hermione was holding her eyes either on the carpet or his forehead or eyes. She'd glimpsed downward once by accident and regretted it. Not that he was ugly, but quite the opposite. He was long and lean, hard muscle prominent from beneath pale white skin. His stomach was flat as a board, but she saw the telltale indentations of abdominal muscle and...

She was looking again. Shite.

Cockily smiling, Lucius said, "Like what you see, do you?"

"You're as naughty as your son," she said, shaking her head. "I feel like I have to keep wagging my finger at you, saying 'Inappropriate!' But you won't stop, of course. Neither of you do."

"You don't have to scold me just because I know I'm fit," he said. "No harm in a bit of confidence."

"The word you're looking for is arrogance," she said, rubbing her nose to cover a smile.

"You're an open book, Hermione -"

"Miss Granger."

"An open book," he repeated, pointedly ignoring her correction. "Your are blushing and smiling, my dear. You are attracted to me and you are trying to hide it with clever quips. There's no shame in attraction, you know. Many women have been in your shoes before."

"So egotistical," Hermione muttered, but really wanted to laugh at it all. He was ridiculous, but a part of her knew he wasn't dead serious about everything he was saying. Something told her that he was ruffling her feathers on purpose.

Lucius Malfoy was actually... teasing her.

This was bizarre.

"You know, you're quite attractive yourself," he told her. "Lovely legs."

"I'll thank you to not look at my legs."

"What would you rather I look at? You're rear? Gladly."

"Inappropriate," she said sternly, wagging her finger at him. "Shame I can't put you in the corner."

"There are other ways to punish me," Lucius mused. "For instance, you could always spank me."

"LUCIUS." Her cheeks burned like mad.

"You can act the shy, prudish governess all you like, but I know, deep down, you enjoy the attention I give you," she said, a low purr to his voice that made Hermione shiver. "You're as attracted to me as I am to you, and sooner or later you won't be able to hide from it."

Hermione clearly detected the cocky, challenging tone his voice took on and it scared her - because if there was one thing Malfoys were, it was ambitious. And they never let go of something once they decided they wanted it.

And the burning look Lucius gave her, after a while, might just be enough to melt her resolve.

...~oOo~...

A/N2. I know there's a lot of questions about the mysterious smoke, but there will be answers, I promise. Just not this chapter :)

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~