A/N. So, I've finally decided. Sunday morning updates and Wednesday night updates. Wednesdays are subject to change, but no matter what, Mondays will be updated.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a friend of mine who passed away last night. Rest easy, Charlie. We all miss you dearly.

...~oOo~...

Chapter Five: The Looking Glass

Hermione still needed the keys, which put her in a predicament. Her strides to open the library were all unsuccessful thus far. In order to get the keys, she needed Lucius's trust - but Lucius wanted far more than friendship and trust, that much was clear.

And there was that constant nagging in the back of her head about the smoke that'd billowed into Lucius's room that night. The next day when he'd been trailing her around, she'd asked if they should investigate the vents or pipes for the source of the smoke, but he'd laughed it off and assured her that it was all taken care of. She'd tried weaseling details from him, but he'd say something a tad inappropriate or flattering and her brain would turn to jelly.

But the smoke had terrified Hermione so much that for the week after the incident, she slept in the rocking chair in Draco's nursery, for fear of it pouring into his room. There was no sign of it again, not a spec. It didn't sit right with Hermione, that was for sure.

It was a sunny Friday when she was playing hide-and-seek with Draco, one of his favorite games. It was definitely a task, with such a large house, but with so many rooms off-limits and when she restricted him to one floor, it was safe enough - for both of them.

"Dracoooo," Hermione called out softly. "Where are you?" There was, of course, no answer. The boy was sneaky as a snake and didn't fall for the usual tricks and never giggled or fidgeted in whatever spot he found.

She was on her knees, looking at the world from a toddler's perspective, hunting for available hiding spots.

Then she saw that the door to Lucius's study was cracked open. Standing up, she knocked lightly on the door. "Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Snape?" There was no answer. She eased the door open and found the study empty and the fireplace cold. "Draco, you know you're not supposed to be in here," she said loudly to the room. She sighed. If he was hiding in there, he was going to be in trouble.

First she ducked to look under the sofa and seats. Then she looked under the desk. Those were the obvious places, but looking around, she didn't really see anywhere else that he could hide. It was a pretty open space.

She was about to abandon the study when she saw something shimmer in the corner of her eye on the desk. The Malfoys possessed a lot of shiny objects, but for some reason unknown, this particular shimmer niggled at her thoughts. She was drawn to it. Hermione hesitantly turned back to the desk. Sitting on top of a stack of folders was the shiny object, mostly covered by a silk handkerchief, wrapped in it, but one of the edges peeked out. Opal and glass.

Hermione turned to see the silk-covered mirror on the wall that she'd noticed on her first trip into the study. From the small pieces poking out from their sheaths, Hermione could see that the opal was etched with the same patterns, the glass the same crystal.

With only the tips of her fingers, she removed the red cloth from the object on his desk, only to reveal a hand mirror. It was obviously a part of the same set as the full-length one, a smaller companion if you may. It was beautiful, the frame reflecting different colors as she lifted it, tilted it in the light of the room. The back was plain. Nothing special about it, except for how priceless it must be. But no obvious magical properties.

Then she stared down into her reflection, only something was no quite right. She looked the same, but the image was... dimmer, for some reason. But then, mushrooming up through her reflection was a black fog, that rapidly started swirling in the mirror, filling the crystal.

Hermione gasped and dropped the mirror back to the desk, quickly wrapping it in the silk once more. Whatever she'd done, she hoped it reversed itself by the time Lucius returned to his study.

Then, from across the room, she heard a faint cough. Her head whipped towards it. No one was there. But she knew that little cough. Draco was hiding in there after all.

And she thought she knew where.

She tip-toed across the rug, hoping that he was lulled into a false sense of security. Standing before the fireplace, she took a deep breath. Then she ducked down into the mouth of it, exclaiming, "Boo!"

Draco squealed and giggled as she snatched you from inside of it and dragged him out. "I found you!" she said, tickling his ribs. He was kicking and laughing, and absolutely covered head to toe in soot. "Oh, Draco," she sighed, mourning the treatment of his very expensive clothing. "You're not supposed to be in here in the first place! Your father is going to have to give you a firm talking-to."

"I rather thought firm talking-tos were your job."

Standing in the doorway was Lucius, a bottle of bourbon in one hand, a glass in the other. Apparently the liquor supply in his study was running love.

"You are still his father, you know," Hermione said, setting the filthy Draco on her hip. The smudges of ash were rubbing onto her own clothes, but she didn't mind all that much. "I can't be responsible for all discipline."

"Sure you can," he said. "You're the governess."

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. Lucius had no interest in playing daddy. He just wasn't cut out for being a parent, Hermione knew that already. He'd needed an heir, the end. The whole dynamic of the Malfoy household was based solely of breeding. It was why he married Narcissa and any Draco was born. Purebred stock.

And because of this, Hermione felt a deep sort of pity for Draco. He was born from a loveless marriage and was put in this world just so the name could live on. Narcissa loved him unconditionally, but Lucius just wasn't cut out for this. He treated Draco the way Abraxas treated him, and the cycle would continue on, sadly enough.

She desperately hoped that Draco would get some sense.

"Well, Draco, you're getting a time-out," she said. Draco then frowned deeply, his forehead crinkling in a way that made him look like an old man. "No, no, don't give me that look. You broke a rule."

"There's no harm in letting it go this time," Lucius said, standing at his desk and pouring himself a drink. "It was my fault for leaving it unlocked. Anyway, he's two."

Hermione couldn't believe it. "Do my ears deceive me?" Hermione said theatrically. "Or is Lucius Malfoy going easy on someone?"

"He's a toddler."

"Still. So out of character for you, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius grumbled, "Let's just say I haven't been myself lately." He took a sip from his tumbler and sighed. "What are you two up to today?"

"Hide-and-seek," Hermione said. "But I think we're heading for a bath now."

"Mind if I join?"

"A bath for your son, not me!" Hermione said, her nose scrunching.

"That's unfortunate," Lucius drawled. "I wouldn't mind a bath with a beautiful young woman right now."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione headed for the door. "Then find your wife."

Lucius was shaking her head. "She's simply not good enough now that I've gotten a good look at your legs."

Hermione simply walked out, ignoring the last comment. And the blood didn't fully drain from her cheeks until the tub was full for Draco.

...~oOo~...

"How is a raven like a writing desk?" Lucius asked, leaning back in a hundred-foot high throne, a top hat sitting atop his head and nothing else, and a pipe hanging from his lips. He looked comically small in the massive chair, but comfortable and gloriously naked.

"There's no sense is speaking riddles with no answer," Hermione answered. She sat before the throne in the middle of a very big square. She looked at the square she was in curiously. "Is this the Queen's square?"

"Indeed," Lucius said, smoke rising from his pipe as he puffed. His bare legs were crossed as he lounged, not a care in the world. The greyish smoke from his pipe made shapes as they floated, usually little stars and tea cups. "The Queen, as mad as she is, beheaded the entire kingdom until none were left to behead except herself. So the square goes to you."

Hermione scowled. "Narcissa isn't mad."

"She was. And so are you."

"I am not mad!"

"You are. As am I. If you weren't mad, you wouldn't be here."

Hermione was shaking her head. "This is madness."

"Now you're catching on," Lucius replied with a satisfied smile.

"So... who are you? The Mad Hatter, Cheshire Cat, or the Caterpillar?"

Lucius looked at Hermione like she was he crazy one. "I'm Lucius Malfoy."

With a heavy sigh and an eye roll, Hermione muttered, "Of course you are. How do I get home?"

"Click your heels three times -"

"Wrong story!" Hermione snapped, holding up a hand. "If we're going to have a Wonderland dream, keep with the right plot, alright?"

Lucius grinned mischievously. "Fair enough."

"Now, be honest. How do I get home?" she repeated.

"It's very simple, of course. With these." Lucius took of his hat, shoving his hand inside, all the way to his shoulder, and plucked out a pretty silver ring of keys.

Hermione's eyes broadened. The keys to the library! Everything she'd been working for!

Then, with a lascivious look in his eyes, dropped the keys in his very naked lap. Hermione groaned. Was there no end to his indecency?

"Lucius, listen," Hermione said, walking forward. Her feet were bare and the grass as as spongy as cake. She approached the throne slowly, practicing eye contact. "You are a very handsome, very tempting, intelligent, articulate wizard, and if I'm being frank, nothing is sexier to me than a man that can put together a proper sentence. You're successful, confident, organized and you have very good taste in interior design. On paper, you're the ideal mate. But what kind of lady succumbs to a man with a criminal record, a drinking problem, and the Mark of the devil on this arm?"

"We're both Marked, though."

Hermione's hand instinctively covered the scars on her arm. The ones she'd been covering furiously with glamours and make-up to hide from him. The one that read "mudblood".

"You don't know about this," Hermione told the Dream Lucius. "If you did, you'd probably kill me."

Lucius shrugged. "Probably."

"So, yes. This sexual tension between us... It just isn't going to work out. You're a blood supremacist and I'm a muggle-born. Classic Romeo and Juliet, and I just hate cliches. And that's ignoring the fact you're married and have a child."

"You're running out of time to solve the riddle," he informed her, removing the pipe from the corner of his mouth.

"You're missing the point of this lecture."

"How is a raven like a writing desk?"

Hermione huffed loudly. "A raven is nothing like a writing desk! It's nonsense! This whole dream, this whole world, this whole situation is nonsense, and I can't stand it! I get whisked away by a windstorm and dropped into the mysterious land of Randy Lucius Malfoy and I can't leave until I get the stupid keys, and I just... I just can't take it anymore!"

"Then give in," Lucius said with a shrug. "You know what you need to do."

"Oh, really? And what might that be?" Hermione demanded.

"Seduce me, earn my trust, and use your body to get the keys."

"I respect myself too much for that."

"Well. Then I guess we're stuck then, aren't we, my dear?"

...~oOo~...

Ugh. Hermione dragged herself into a sitting position and scrubbed at her eyes. What a horrid dream. She raked her hands through her sleep-frizzy curls and scratched her chest, the camisole twisted around her torso enough to completely expose her breasts. She hadn't been so concerned about that until she found the vase of orchids on her bedside table.

Hermione's hands flew to cover her chest, her eyes whipping around the room, looking for a lingering perpetrator. Once she was convinced she was alone, she leaned over to smell the flowers. On the table next to the crystal vase was a scrap of parchment, folded neatly with her name on it. Slowly she opened it and found Lucius's perfect script:

You are not what one would call a peaceful sleeper. - L

Hermione snorted despite herself. She'd probably been rolling and twitching because of her dream. She tried to feel violated at having been spied on while she was unawares, but the orchids were so pretty and... well, no one had ever gotten her flowers before.

She blushed and tucked his note into the drawer. Bending her knees up and taking a deep breath, she looked at the clock. She had a good half hour before Draco was due to wake up.

She had too many X's on her calendar. Too many. She was affecting the timeline and any small mistake could tip the future war in Voldemort's favor, especially living under the same roof as one of his right-hand men. Hermione was relatively safe since Lucius believed Voldemort to be dead in this time, but the risks were still too great.

She made a hasty decision. Her subconscious was trying to tell her something while she slept. Wizard dreams weren't the same as Muggle dreams. Her images of Wonderland were trying to communicate with her. They were offering her a solution.

Hermione took a deep breath and straightened her shirt, swinging her legs out of bed. Slipping into her sleeping robe, Hermione left her bedroom and made her way down the corridor she'd walked those weeks before, in the direction of the library. Once she found the door she was certain the smoke had come from, she tested the doorknob gently. It gave. Unlocked.

She held her breath as she opened the door. Slipping into the spare bedroom - Lucius's bedroom - Hermione looked at his sleeping form closely. He was a belly sleeper. Not what she would have guessed, certainly.

Hermione was about to reach out and touch him when she saw was rested on his bedside. The hand mirror, hugged by its red handkerchief. The urge to investigate it further was strong - but she was worried about getting caught up in the mystery that was Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione slowly placed her hand on his shoulder. He did nothing, just continued his light snoring. She then tried touching the back of his head. Nothing. She brushed back his hair and whispered his name. Motionless. For a beat she wondered if he was in a coma.

And then she knew what she had to do. Her face burned and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Mind over matter.

Hermione bent down, brushed his hair away from his face and pressed her lips, ever so lightly, to his. Only then did he rustle. She pulled away in time to see his eyelids fluttering open.

Groggy and confused, he muttered, "Hermione?"

She bit back the correction of her name. "I wanted to thank you personally for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"Did you just... kiss me?" he murmured, still half-asleep.

"I did," she confirmed.

Lucius's face broke into a grin like a sleepily satisfied cat. "Mind if I get another?"

Without answering, and before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned forward and kissed him again. Lucius's hands immediately went to her hair and a low rumble vibrated from his chest. Not quite a groan and not quite a purr. It made Hermione's hands tingle.

Hermione knew that she was standing on the point of no return. And she'd never admit it to anyone... but she kind of liked it.

...~oOo~...

A/N2. Obviously, a lot of Hermione's dream sequence was borrowed from the mad mind of Lewis Carroll.

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~