Lucius

Lucius blinked in surprise. Well that was unexpected. He waited for Hermione to take back the words, perhaps break out into a fit of giggles at his sodding expense. He gazed back at her expectant face, that one eyebrow quirked up and the corner of her mouth pulled taut. A minuscule indication that she was just as nervous as he was.

And thank Merlin for that. Lucius didn't fancy being the only one shitting his currently non-existent pants.

After a few seconds wherein she didn't break into a fit of giggles, flee from the bathroom, or in any way indicate that she was joking about her interest, Lucius said in a low voice, "Please," He lifted a hand, soapy water dripping from his fingers as he gestured towards the pool.

Hermione began to fidget with her gown, her cheeks burning red as she reached for the row of buttons in the back. Feeling like a lecher, Lucius quickly spun around to face the taps, messing with the faucets and soaps as he listened to the rustling of fabric behind him, followed by a rather flustered un-dressing spell that had him smirking into the Potpourri basket.

Only once he heard her splash into the pool did he finally turn back around. His eyes couldn't help it—or maybe it was his cock. They slid right down to the girl's slim shoulders, past the pale mounds of her breasts peeking out from the water, and towards the vague outline of her body beneath the water. He couldn't see much, not with the bubbles still floating through the pool, but it was enough to send his cock twitching with anticipation once again.

"I'd think you'd never seen a naked witch before," Hermione said slyly, and his eyes darted back up to meet hers. He expected annoyance, maybe disgust, but her face was a lovely mixture of shyness and amusement. "How long has it been?" she continued, drifting closer towards him in the pool. "Three years?"

"Longer," Lucius admitted, pressing his back into the marble wall of the pool and resting his arms up on the edge.

Hermione looked surprised. "You and your wife…"

"We stopped such…activities years before the end of the war."

"Oh." Hermione nodded absently as her gaze drifted around the pool. Water sloshed with the movements of both their bodies, echoing into the domed ceiling. On the other side of the tub, a faucet dripped, each plunk growing softer and softer as the minutes stretched on. He wanted to do the same as her—pretend they weren't naked, weren't fucking just a few hours ago—but his eyes wouldn't leave her for long. She was quite an enigma, this witch. One moment, he was hearing tales of her frightening displays of magic to arrogant seventh-years. The next, she was a barely concealed bundle of nerves and anticipation in the bathing pool she chose to climb into. And now, she couldn't even bring herself to look at him.

Lucius had always been a leader. In his political life, social life, and in his sexual endeavors too. If she didn't have the gall to cut whatever this tension was, then he would be the one to do it. Lest we swim around until we're pruney without a word spoken to each other.

"Do you reckon Severus Snape ever had a wank in that ghastly cave of an office?" he said casually.

Hermione spun around, her eyes wide and her lips open in surprise. "Did Snape…I don't suppose I've given it thought. Ever. Why on Earth…"

Lucius smirked as he flicked back a sopping lock of hair from his shoulder. "I don't know if the poor man had it in him. It does take quite a lot of inspiration, to become aroused in a room full of pickled body parts."

Hermione studied him for a long moment, swimming closer, and he could practically see the gears whirling inside her head. "Are you telling me this because you had a wank in the potion's office?"

His smirk spread into a full-blown grin. Clever girl. "Well I certainly tried, before some Ravenclaw swot reminded me it was nearly time for class."

To his delight, Hermione tipped back her head as she giggled. "You did not!"

"I most certainly did."

"Right before class?"

"I thought I had time."

"What if someone saw you?"

"I'm sure it would delight that Ravenclaw like nothing else to stand guard while I completed my business."

Hermione's hand shot out to smack the surface of the pool, sending a spray of water straight to his face. "Lucius!" she admonished, even while a smile pulled at the edges of her mouth.

"A man has needs." Lucius delicately wiped the suds from his cheek as he arched an eyebrow at her. "Don't tell me you weren't in a similar state this afternoon."

Hermione froze, one hand hovering above the water like she was about to splash him again. Then as her hand slowly sank back under, and her cheeks turned impossibly pinker, she said in barely a whisper, "I was." Hermione drifted over to his side, so she was also against the edge of the pool. "Actually, I was doing alright with a very distracting dueling class, before that girl Adeline came to see me."

"Corvinus's girl?"

She nodded, pressing her palm into the suds before lifting her hand and watching them spring back up. "She wanted to know what it would be like, after her wedding. The marriage bed, and all that. And I…well, I wanted to help her, so I told her and it…it made me think about you." She twisted a little to face him, wide honey-brown eyes meeting his. "Us, in that closet. I know we weren't ever expecting to go, well… there, but Lucius I…I can't stop thinking about it."

"Was it good for you, Hermione?" he asked, trying to ignore the sudden ache in his cock.

She bit her lip. "Yes," she admitted with a shy smile. "Better than I've ever had."

Lucius held in a groan at her words, her face, the way her bottom teeth sank into that plump lip like he so desperately wanted to do. "It was for me too," he said softly, honestly, praying she wouldn't think he said it just to appease her.

They stood like that for a long moment, bathed in tension and warmth and perfume. Then, to his surprise, Hermione circled in front of him. She stood to her full height, breasts lifting up out of the water. Droplets slid down her skin, dripping off the tips of her pert, rosy nipples. As he was admiring them, unable to draw his eyes away, a hand snaked out, fingertips skating over his chest. "It wouldn't hurt, would it?" Hermione breathed out, fingers smoothing down below his ribs. "To try again?" Her eyes lifted to meet his, so sweet and shy and lustful all at once.

It was enough to break him from the spell—or maybe pull him deeper into it. Lucius wound one arm around her back to grip her waist, the other fisting into her damp curls, as he pulled her into him. Hermione gasped at the sudden contact of her body flush against his, as his lips found the delicate shell of her ear. "Who am I this time, Miss Granger," he breathed out, nipping at her skin. "Are we back in that Ministry closet?"

He expected her to sigh in pleasure, to whimper under his touch, to moan out some name she wanted him to be. But instead, Hermione stiffened. It started in her neck, the muscles pulling taunt beneath his lips. Then the tension shuddered down her whole body. Immediately, Lucius pulled away. Just the hand on her waist remained. "What is it? I thought you wanted…" A sour guilt rose in his throat as he stared down at her shaken expression.

"I did! But not—not like that." Hermione pulled away from the hand on her waist, and he released her without a second thought. She spun around, hands raking through her wet curls as she blew out a long, frustrated sigh. Lucius just watched her, his thoughts swirling faster and faster. Had he read her wrong? His memories played the closet encounter over and over, trying to look for a hint of hesitation in her whimpers and moans. Hermione's hands fell limply back to her side, but she didn't turn around.

"Hermione," Lucius tried gently. "I'm sorry. This was too much too fast. I'll leave and let you finish up your bath."

"It's not that." Her voice was quiet, unsure. So unlike the girl he had grown to know.

"What, then?"

It took another moment of silence before she responded. "I don't want to pretend," she said weakly, like she was afraid the words would sting on the way out. "I can't do this if the only reason you get off is because you pretend I'm someone else. Or a different version of me, or a fantasy version of—"

Her words cut off as he reached out to cup her shoulder. "That's what you think?" he asked, gently applying pressure until she slowly turned back around.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" she asked sharply. Tears pooled in her eyes. "You never wanted to be here with me. Never thought of me as anymore than that teenage, know-it-all swot you were forced to become companions with. And in that closet, the only reason you could—could get off is by pretending I was someone else."

Oh my dear. Lucius longed to tug her close, to smooth away her tears. But he knew he was at fault for this, and she had to understand that first. "While I never decided to be here in this time with you, you were never the reason. In fact, I'd say our friendship is the reason I so greatly want to stay." He ran his thumb over her shoulder, noting the way her eyes closed at his touch, the way a stray tear leaked out. "You are also not just some teenage, know-it-all swot, as you so succinctly put it," he teased, and she let out a little hiccup of a laugh. "Merlin, from the day I first saw you in that courtroom before Azkaban, since the day three years later when you stepped into my cell, I saw you for the witch — the woman — you are now. A terribly attractive, terribly strong-willed, terribly tantalizing woman." Lucius tested a step forward, and when she didn't move, when her glassy eyes didn't leave his, he closed the distance between them. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin. "But after we came here, I didn't want to make my attraction known. I never wanted to force you, my dear."

"I wouldn't have been forced."

"It's a difficult situation, Hermione," Lucius whispered, stroking his thumb from the corner of her lips to her cheekbone. "I didn't want you to feel pressured to have any form of relationship with the one person you truly know here. The only person you rely on. I'm older, your former enemy, a felon." Her small hand came up to reach for his, and he wrapped his fingers around hers, squeezing in reassurance. "And in that closet, when we had no choice but to have sex, I thought it would be easier for you, Hermione. Easier for you to pretend I was someone you truly fancied. I thought I was helping. But it appears I have made a grave miscalculation."

Hermione nodded through her weak, tearful smile. Lucius could not help but smile back, couldn't help but bring her hand to his lips and brush a kiss across her knuckles. And when he lowered their joined hands, her eyes didn't stray from his face.

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked.

"Well…it seems we have two options. One, we can leave this delightfully large bathtub, return to our chambers, and move on from this day as just friends. Or two," he began, studying her face carefully for a flicker of hesitation, "we can see where this…attraction goes. We are stuck here for forever, after all."

Hermione's gaze dropped down to their intertwined hands, and Lucius thought he knew the answer. She wanted option one. She wanted to keep things simple. She didn't want him. And that was okay. Lucius was capable of containing his true feelings. He would continue on as they had, sneaking glances when she wasn't looking, keeping her company even as his body, and one day maybe his heart, ached for something more.

But then, for the countless time that day, she surprised him. Hermione lifted her gaze. She smiled. And then she stepped slowly through the water, pressed her dripping body against his, wound her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

It was a soft kiss.

A tender kiss.

A kiss that tasted like steam and lavender and her. Most of all, it tasted like her.

Hermione

Lucius kissed her like she was something precious. It was the first thought that flitted through her mind, after the realization that Lucius Malfoy was really, truly, kissing her. And she was kissing him back.

His arms wrapped around her, firm but not crushing, the same pressure of his lips as they moved against hers. With one hand on her hip and the other flat against her ribs, Lucius leaned into her. His tongue slipped into her mouth. She groaned at the contact.

Lucius kissed her like she was something to take care of. Hands seeking, reassuring. Tongue coaxing, teasing.

Hermione's fingers fisted in his wet hair, desperate for more contact, for more anything. And to her delight, he obliged, dipping further into her, holding her weight in his hands as she dragged him deeper into this kiss.

Lucius kissed her like he wanted to break back into that ferocious animal from the closet at any second, but he didn't want to scare her off.

But Hermione wasn't about to flinch. She wasn't about to run. All she could think about, all she could taste and smell and feel was this man pressed against her.

And God, she needed more.

"Lucius," Hermione whimpered, breaking away from his lips to stare up into his silver eyes. "Please." She tugged on his hair. She angled her hips into him, feeling the hard cock pressing against her belly. She could see it clearly now, large without being daunting; hard as steel yet soft as silk. "More."

Lucius growled as he suddenly whirled the two of them around. The wall of the tub hit her back, but she hardly cared, because a second later Lucius had descended on her again. His mouth crashed into hers, and this time she wasn't something delicate, something to handle with care. He was fire, and she oxygen, and he needed to consume her to live.

Hermione's fingers scraped down his broad back, finding purchase in his hips. Lucius groaned and rutted against her as his tongue plunged deeper into her mouth. "Fuck…Hermione…" Lucius moaned, grasping her left thigh and yanking it up over his hip. The lip of the pool dug into her back as he arched her further backwards, the tip of his cock sliding against her lower belly. "What you…do to me…"

Hermione tore away from his mouth just to latch onto the side of his neck. Her lips bit gently into his flesh, higher and higher until they ghosted over his ear. "I need you, Lucius," she breathed out, whimpering as her words sent his cock thrusting more desperately against her. Her core fluttered with excitement. If she hadn't been in a pool, she knew she'd be completely soaked. "Need you inside me."

Lucius, it seemed, was a man that didn't need to be told twice. Lucius pulled away from her lips and flashed her a devilish grin. "Be careful what you ask for, witch," he said, before he reached forward, grabbed her waist, and hoisted her up over his shoulder.

Hermione shrieked and giggled as he carried her, somewhat awkwardly, towards the other side of the pool, up the steps, and across the edge towards what she thought were the towels. He must have had his wand nearby, because as Hermione was giggling and trying to look around (earning playful swat on her ass in the process), she heard Lucius mutter a spell, and a second later she was deposited down onto a cushy surface.

"A towel mattress," Hermione teased as Lucius quickly spread her legs and pressed his weight down on top of her. "How romantic."

Lucius smirked as he kissed her, first her lips, then a string of trailing from her face to her ear and down her throat. "You shush," Lucius growled as he laved his tongue across her clavicle, causing Hermione to whimper and squirm. Placing his forearm across her hips, he held her down as he continued to kiss and suck the sensitive skin of her chest. "You're lucky I'm a gentleman," he said, as his mouth took hold of one nipple, teasing the edge with his tongue, "And I don't take you right on the cold, hard floor."

"You know, I might actually—oh!" Hermione cried out at his lips closed entirely over the little bud, sucking and kissing and sending tingles racing straight towards her pussy. Hermione gasped and ground her hips up against him, but his arm kept her firmly planted on the floor and fucking desperate for more. Before she could even process the sensation, his mouth descended on the other nipple just as his free hand came up to tease the first one. Hermione moaned and gave into the sensation, gave into him, the knowledge that she was completely and utterly at his mercy.

And she liked it.

As soon as his lips broke free with a sinful pop, Hermione grabbed for his face and dragged him back towards her. With a grin, Lucius kissed her again as his hips and cock pressed fully into her body. "Tell me, little witch," Lucius commanded in a low voice, breaking free from their kiss to whisper in her ear. His breath sent shivers racing down her body, straight to the place where his hard length prodded with each roll of his hips. "What do you need?"

Hermione breathed out a gasp as his cock teased her entrance. Her fingers clung to his back, trying to push him closer, push him forward, but he remained firmly in place. "You," she managed to get out, as his tongue licked a trail of fire down the side of her throat. "Inside me." One of her hands brushed down his spine to clamp around the back of his thigh, holding him to her. "Now."

Shifting back so he was looking at her, Lucius reached down and aligned himself with her entrance. Then, with his eyes filled with lust and need and something she didn't want to name, he slid into her. It was slow, an easing in kind of feeling, the kind of thrust that matched his carefulness of their first kiss. Lucius tipped back his head, eyes closing as he groaned. Hermione reached for him, pulling him closer as he filled her completely and stilled.

"Merlin fucking hell," Lucius ground out, one hand reaching for her shoulder as the other planted on the side of her head. "What you do to me."

Hermione grinned. "So I've heard. Now imagine what I'll feel like when you move. Please," she added, with a desperate little whine.

One hand gripping hard to her shoulder for leverage, Lucius began to pull out before slowly, achingly slowly, pushing back in. Each stroke tickled that spot deep inside her, but it wasn't enough. Not early enough. And like he was reading her mind, Lucius's pace began to increase. With each snap of his hips, that pleasure bloomed inside her. He thrust faster and harder, groaned louder and louder, each move of his cock sending her closer and closer to the edge. And when Lucius grabbed her ankle, pulling her leg up above his bicep to fill her even deeper, Hermione nearly saw stars. The sound of their wet bodies slapping filled the room; skin and moans and steam swirling in one sinful combination.

"Lucius," Hermione whimpered, as his pace increased again. She closed her eyes, moaning. "Please."

"Do you need to come for me, little witch?" Lucius growled, punctuating the words with a snap of his hips.

"Yes, yes, please."

"Then you're going to have to open your eyes for me." When Hermione didn't react, too lost in the sensation, he suddenly reached out and grasped her chin. "Look at me, Hermione." He pushed her leg back further, the angle deepening, making her gasp as her eyes flew open.

"That's it." Thrust. Snap. Thrust. Snap.

" God, Lucius, I need to…"

"Do you need to come for me?" Thrust. Snap. Thrust. Snap. His fingers spread open, covering her jaw, the top of her throat. Squeezing just enough to feel it, to send her pleasure skyrocketing.

"Ohhh…yes, yes!"

Thrust. Snap. Thrust. Snap. "Then come, Hermione. Come for me."

One more thrust, and that bundle of pleasure burst inside her. Hermione cried out as her walls clamped down onto his cock, causing Lucius to come over the edge with her. The orgasm burned through her, brighter and hotter than any fire, any star. It consumed her, made her shake and curl up and sob her release, never once looking away. Only when the orgasm began to fade, the pleasure pulsing through her like aftershocks, did she realize Lucius had collapsed onto her, face buried in the crook of her shoulder. Hermione reached up and stroked a hand down his back. He sighed into her touch.

After a moment, Lucius rolled off her, coming onto his side on the transfigured mattress. His chest rose and fell heavily as he stared back at her. His silver eyes shone like pools of moonlight, open and honest and filled with some heady kind of relief. He reached for her, stroking her cheek.

"Well," Lucius said softly, smiling back. "I could certainly get used to option two." He pulled her into his side, tucking her against his chest like she was meant to fit there.

Hermione closed her eyes, basking in his touch, his warmth, his affection. In another word where she wasn't going home, she could get used to this too.

They spent the weekend in some kind of blissful dream of kisses and sex and companionship. Hermione tried to ignore that what she was doing would hurt Lucius, when she left. Tried to pretend that all that mattered was the present, and some future pain was just the price of a pleasant now.

She was a fool. A cruel, needy fool. She knew it the instant she kissed him in that bath and chose option two. And yet despite knowing the cruelty of her actions, Hermione couldn't stop herself. She hadn't felt so alive in years. Maybe ever. She hadn't felt so wanted, hadn't felt so much pleasure, hadn't given so much in return. It was like she was a woman for the very first time.

During her Hogwarts years, her sexual exploration had been limited by war and teenage woes and brutish boys. And after the war, when she had started having sex with Ron, she hadn't truly participated in the act. The disease in her soul had made sure of that. Yes, she had spread her legs and kissed him back, but there had been no desire. No lust. Sex with Ron had been a charade. An appeasement. A chore.

Sex with Lucius was a craving. A desperation deep in her core for his touch, his mouth, his cock, his words, his care. Never before had she felt both cherished and depraved, and the feeling was nearly all-consuming. If she had been a stronger person, maybe it would have been enough to put an end to her mission to get home. But every time the idea about staying here in this dream floated across her mind, the recesses of her brain swiftly put an end to it.

Home, it whispered, when she laid awake Sunday night in Lucius's arms after they'd had sex for the third time that day.

You have to go home.

It was her mantra. Her guide.

And when the day came to leave Lucius behind, she knew, somewhere in her mind or her soul, that she would follow that guide home. Lucius would miss her at first. They had become friends, after all. But in the end, she would leave, and he would stay, and they would both move on with their lives.

The thought kept her up all through the night.

Hermione sighed as she placed the essay in the stack with the rest of the graded scrolls. It was just a short assignment for the sixth-years—one page on the history of the Unforgivable Curses—but most of the students clearly hadn't bothered to research beyond the blurb in the course textbook. Some days, she wondered if her older students put little effort into their work just to spite her. Did Remus feel like this? she wondered, grabbing the next scroll and unfurling it across her desk. She grabbed her quill, dipped it in the pot of red ink, and began to read.

She was only one paragraph in when there was a timid knock at the door. Hermione glanced over at the grandfather clock. It was half past nine on a Friday. With Lucius starting his scheduled rounds soon, and curfew beginning in thirty minutes, it was a rather odd time for a visitor. Hermione frowned as she called out, "Come in." Her eyebrows shot up when Clara slipped inside, a leather bookbag clutched to her chest. "Clara, what is? You'll be late for curfew."

The girl practically skipped over to one of the chairs across from Hermione's desk, skirts billowing as she plopped down. "I came to give you an update, Professor."

Ah. Hermione had been anxious for two weeks now to see if the girl had any insights into Corvinus. She herself had been watching the boy carefully when she could—mostly during class, at meals, or occasionally in the hallways—but between her teaching and Lucius, there'd been hardly any time to keep tabs on the boy. "I did tell you to come to me after classes, but I suppose I have a few minutes before you need to be home for curfew." Hermione tilted her head. "What updates do you have?"

"Well…none really," Clara began, and Hermione's hope dimmed. "But I did discover something you may find useful." The girl unbuckled the straps of her bag and pulled out a piece of parchment. Hermione slid it towards herself. "I was able to create a timetable of Corvinus's whereabouts over the past two weeks," Clara explained as Hermione examined the schedule. It was rather detailed, to her surprise. A fact that had guilt stirring in her stomach. How much time has the girl dedicated to this? At my request?

"And what have you found?" Hermione asked, glancing back up.

Clara leaned across to point at one of the squares. "Fridays, Professor. Every other day of the week, I've been able to account for his whereabouts from breakfast to curfew, when he returns to the Slytherin common room. But on Fridays," she said, excitement leaking into her voice, "he doesn't return after his nightly studying in the astronomy tower. At least while anyone else is awake."

Hermione peered down at the timetable. Indeed, there was a little box of time between ten and midnight with just a scribbled question-mark. "And how do you know he hasn't just returned to his room?"

Clara shifted back in her seat, staring at her hands. "Well…I may have found…help."

"Help?"

"A third-year Slytherin boy with a penchant for auburn-haired witches," she replied slowly, peeking at Hermione like a naughty child who'd been caught stealing sweets. "He agreed to keep track of Corvinus's goings and comings from their common room."

Hermione held in a sigh. It was her fault, after all, if the girl was going to such lengths as to trade favors with some horny thirteen-year-old. "Can I assume you aren't doing anything that may ruin your reputation, Clara?"

"Oh, yes. Nothing like that. Some kisses on my cheek, a few touches above my dress."

At least the girl wasn't giving explicit sexual favors. At my request, she thought again. The guilt was heavier now, knocking around her stomach like a buoy in a tumultuous sea. "No more of this though, do you hear me?"

Clara pursed her lips. "But—"

"Please, Clara." Hermione leveled her with a stern look. "You've done so well already, but Henry would not want you to sell yourself just to help me."

"It's him I'm helping too. Henry would want—"

"Henry would want you to stay safe," Hermione cut in, and the girl's mouth clamped shut. "You've done enough, okay? This will help me greatly. I'll…I'll take it from here." She laid her palm on the timetable. "You can continue to keep an eye on him and report back to me, but nothing that goes beyond your ordinary schedule."

It took a moment, but finally Clara nodded. "What will you do now?"

Hermione considered the parchment, drumming her fingers above the scrawled question mark. "I suppose I'll just have to see what he's up to on Friday nights. The privilege of being a professor means that I can go anywhere I please. And if Corvinus is out of bounds tonight, I'll find him. I promise."

Hermione waited until just before curfew to make the trip over to the second-floor girl's lavatory. The hallways were all but empty on her way up, just a group of first-year Hufflepuffs giggling and calling out a chorus of "Hello, Professor Jean!" as they scurried past. By the time she reached the bathroom, it was silent.

After considering her options, Hermione took a seat behind a large crate sitting just an inch away from the wall. She could still see the entryway to the bathroom, but the moonlight evaded her here, and only someone looking would be able to spot her. With her back pressed against the wall, her knees drawn to her chest, and her wand resting beside her, Hermione settled in to wait.

She wondered how Corvinus was getting here after curfew. Perhaps he was disguising himself, waiting in a disillusioned state until whatever prefect or professor was rounding had passed? It was quite the trek from the astronomy tower to the bathroom, so making it here at least two Fridays in a row was quite the feat without getting caught.

As the minutes stretched on, her mind turned to the question of what she'd do when Corvinus showed up. She imagined him walking into the bathroom, standing over the trapdoor and muttering the word. As he climbed down into the Chamber, she'd cast a wordless spell to levitate the wooden door, holding it nearly closed until he had descended far enough into the tunnels. After that…that was where the plan got messy. Between the basilisk and the unhinged Gaunt boy, Hermione was definitely in for a fight.

Scenarios played in her head, over and over, each one worse than the next. And as the outcomes grew more violent in her mind, so did her guilt about leaving Lucius. She wouldn't say goodbye. It would be too hard. She'd let him climb back into bed after rounds and think she was up late grading papers. Come morning, he'd learn the truth.

It wouldn't destroy him, but it would hurt.

She would hurt him. But she would be home.

Minutes stretched into an hour, an hour into two, three. Her eyes drooped, her chin heavy against her chest.

Moonlight had found her, when her eyes opened again. Hermione blinked sluggishly, rubbing the back of her hand across chin, where a string of drool had accumulated. The window was still dark, but the moon had shifted so far now that it was illuminating her hiding spot like a beacon. Her gaze fell on the trapdoor, but it was still closed.

Fuck. She had fallen asleep. She would have heard him enter though, wouldn't she? She supposed he was probably not coming tonight. And even if he was, she was in no state for a fight this late.

Groaning, Hermione pushed to her feet and left the eerily quiet bathroom behind. She wound her way through the halls and down the stairs, glancing at a clock on her way that had the time around four. "Shite," Hermione muttered as she approached her chambers. Lucius would be back now from his rounds. With any luck, he was fast asleep, having chalked up her absence to falling asleep in her office.

The door swung open, and the sight of Lucius by the fire, a leather-bound book in his hands, greeted her. He didn't look up until the door clicked shut behind her, and Hermione stepped forward.

"Lucius, I'm sorry. I fell asleep and…" she trailed off as he lowered the book, nestling it between the side of the chair and his thigh. He stood, a kind, tired smile on his face as he approached her and wrapped her in his arms.

"There's no need to be sorry," he murmured, kissing her forehead, then her lips.

Hermione returned his sweet kiss before pulling back to search his face for any sort of animosity, doubt. But she found nothing but a gentle smile staring back at her. "Did you stay up for me?" At his nod, she frowned. "But you were on rounds until midnight, you shouldn't have."

Lucius quieted her with a quick kiss, then took her hand and slid her fingers into his. "And miss the sight of those gloriously insane curls and sleepy eyes? Never," he said, brushing back the mess of hair from her cheek. "I couldn't sleep myself," he admitted, when Hermione hadn't returned his smile. "After falling asleep with you in my arms for two weeks, apparently my brain doesn't wish for me to do it alone."

God, she didn't deserve this man. Hermione squeezed his hand. "You mean fall asleep with me in your arms after fucking the energy out of both of us?" she teased.

Lucius used their intertwined hands to scratch his jaw. "Perhaps."

"To bed, then? I'm not sure I have a fucking in me," she said, yawning and shaking her head.

"I was thinking of showing you something, actually. Seeing as we're both up at this hour. If you're up to it."

"What?"

"Now if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"

Hermione relented, and Lucius grabbed her a cloak and himself an overcoat before taking her hand and leading her from the room. Her sleepiness from before had seemed to evaporate. Or…transformed, maybe, into a reckless kind of excitement. She imagined this must be how normal teenagers with a first crush felt, as he dragged her through the dark, quiet halls, stopping every so often to press her into the wall and snog her senseless.

After winding this way and that through the castle to the point at which Hermione couldn't even tell where they were, Lucius muttered something to a painting of some boring lord, and the portrait swung out from the wall. "Where is this?" she whispered as he pulled her carefully into the hole.

"Hmm…fourth floor, by the Charms classroom?"

"But there's no secret passageway on the fourth floor!"

Lucius chuckled as he cast a Lumos, and the pitch-black passage glowed with pale blue light. A spiral stone staircase sat ahead of them, winding up and up into the darkness. "And how exactly would you know that?"

Hermione launched into a tale of Fred and George's map as they began to climb, but soon her words were taken over by her panting. By the time they reached the top, and Lucius pressed open what seemed to be a sliding rooftop panel, she was completely out of breath. Lucius hoisted himself out first into the blanket of night overhead, then reached down and lifted her out.

At first, Hermione was hazy with disorientation—both from the suddenness of being out in the cold night and the tiredness that had definitely set in. But as her fog began to clear, she realized they were standing on the roof of the castle. It was a large, flat area, surrounded by low battlements. To the south, the clock tower stood tall and proud, the back of the gears gleaming in the moonlight. To the north, the narrow peak of the Divination Tower erupted out from the rooftops below. And to the west, the Astronomy Tower stood, wind rippling through the archways, making the gyroscope creak and spin.

She turned towards the east to find the Black Lake stretching out into the forested horizon. Streaks of blue and pink and orange smudged the treeline with the first hints of dawn. "It's beautiful," she murmured, turning slowly in a circle to take it all in.

Lucius approached her, and she happily placed herself in his arms with her back to his chest, his chin tucked against the crown of her head. His loose hair tickled her cheeks as the November wind picked up. Despite only being intimate for a few weeks, this closeness, this warmth, it already felt natural. "That passage was a bit of a Malfoy family secret," he explained quietly as they gazed off towards the glassy lake. "Every time a new Malfoy entered Hogwarts and made his first friends, he would share the secret with them. We used to come up here when we couldn't sleep, or when we just needed to escape."

Hermione tried to picture it, a teenage Lucius with his teenage Death Eater friends. Had they really been just like Hermione and Harry and Ron? On the precipice of war, on the precipice of adulthood, just trying to cling to what was real? "And you never got caught?"

"There were a few close calls when Bella…when one of us got a little too rowdy. But no, no one ever found out. No one to see us up here, unless they were also doing something against the rules."

Hermione tipped her face down towards the arm Bellatrix had carved into. Even through her sleeve, she could picture the faded scar. Mudblood. It didn't hurt like it used to. It hadn't hurt in a long, long time. "Do you remember that day, when we first arrived at Malfoy Manor?"

"Like it was yesterday."

"You told me you regretted letting her do that to me," Hermione said softly, tracing her finger over the wool of her sleeve. "You apologized."

She felt Lucius nod against her head. "And then you released my ankle cuff."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Hermione turned in his arms to face him. She met his eyes, so open and bright. "That was the first day I knew you had truly changed. That I could trust you."

Emotion flickered across his face. Before, she would have called it an imitation of joy. Malfoys were actors more than anyone else she knew. But now, with the wind ripping past and the warmth of his body and smile bearing down on her, she knew she couldn't call it theater anymore. This was real. Real for him. Real for her too. And that scared her more than anything. It made the mantra in her head rear its head.

Home. You have to go home.

Lucius touched her face, brushing a thumb over her chin. "As much as I'd love to stand here in this freezing weather, there is something else I wanted to show you."

Hermione breathed out her relief. It puffed around her face like a cloud. She wasn't sure she could stand there, facing him, facing his sincerity, any longer anyway. "What, the view isn't enough?"

Lucius led her towards the edge of the roof, where the wall dropped sharply off. They were facing the grassy field to the west now, which led to the Quidditch pitch and the rolling hills beyond. Shorter towers bracketed the flat section of roof, jutting out into the lawn on either side. When Hermione peered over the edge, she saw that it was a straight shot to the grass below.

"And we're steps away from falling to our deaths because…" Hermione said, when her stomach did a flip. She stepped quickly away from the battlement, which rose to around hip-height.

"Because when I was much, much younger, we also used to play a little game up here."

"A game."

Her displeasure must have been obvious in her expression, because Lucius chuckled. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her back to face the battlement. "Perhaps not so much of a game but an…exercise. We called it The Fall."

Well that certainly put the pieces together. "Let me guess, you and your Slytherin buddies used to jump off this roof, hurtle towards your death, and stop each other from turning into a pile of broken bones at the last second."

"Oh, how you know me, my dear," Lucius drawled, putting a hand over his heart.

Hermione rolled her eyes and studied the drop again. "And none of you idiots ever got caught because there's no windows facing this area of the castle," she mused, studying the stretch of windowless stone on the wall and towers below.

"Precisely."

"And you did this for what? To prove yourselves?"

"We were much more noble than that, I'm afraid. It was an exercise in trust. And fun—there's no rush like it. At the time, the Dark Lo—Tom was beginning to collect recent graduates to his cause. Which led to trying to collect us during the summers, over holidays…we were scared. We thought the world was about to change for the worse. But we knew we had each other. And we wanted to solidify that. I know you don't understand our cause. And rightfully so. I regret it now, but at the time…"

"No," Hermione cut in, reaching for his hand to give his cold fingers a squeeze. "I understand. You were all just fighting for what you were taught to believe in."

He smiled down at her, then pressed her hand to his lips. "Shall we, then?"

Her eyes widened. "What, jump?" She let out a startled laugh.

"Yes."

"Lucius, I'm not—I'm not throwing myself off a roof! What if someone sees? What if your spell doesn't catch me in time? What if—"

His lips crashed into hers, stealing the rant from her lips. Hermione's body responded instantly, melting into his heat and clutching at his body. When she finally broke away, her cheeks felt flushed with desire.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Well, little witch? Do you trust me?"

"I do." The answer was on her lips before her logical brain had time to stop her.

He grinned and held out a hand. "Then let me give you this."

She stared at his hand, fingers pale and pink with cold. It was mad. Insane. And yet, every fiber in her being told her to take his hand.

So she did.

Lucius carefully helped her up onto the battlement, the stone hard and sure beneath her boots. Her skirts ripped around her ankles, bustling noisily in the wind. One hand held hers, the other gripped her hip. "Jump, Hermione. I'll catch you."

She closed her eyes, listening to the wind, feeling the steady fingers in her hand. What would it feel like? She had flown before, but always on the back of something else. What would it feel like to be so completely held by nothing at all?

"I've got you," Lucius whispered, his breath carrying up to her ear and over the battlement.

I've got you. The words echoed in her mind, pushing out every other thought or worry or care. And with her mind clear but for Lucius's voice, Hermione picked up one foot. She let go of Lucius's hand. Her arms extended out like the wings of a bird. She sucked in a deep, icy breath.

Then she fell.

Air surrounded her like a cocoon, cold and soft at the same time. She must have spun around as she jumped, and the sky was spread out before her like a blanket of blackness and stars and moon and the first streaks of morning light.

She fell, crying out, not with fear, but with joy and release. Tears flooded her eyes, from the wind racing past or the inexplicable freedom, she didn't know. Didn't care. She was falling and her body was completely alive.

Just as the thought of how far off the ground was entered her mind, a sudden force caught her, like two hands had reached out, grabbed her waist, and jerked her up. Hermione let out a shriek of laughter as she looked around, realizing she was now levitating slowly towards the grass a few meters away. As soon as her body touched down, the rush slammed into her like a train, and the world spun like a top. Or maybe she was the top.

Holy fucking hell, she thought, as laughter bubbled up from deep inside her. Her hands splayed out, touching the dead, frosty grass. When the world stopped spinning enough to focus, she found Lucius at the top of the roof, so small she only knew it was him from the speck of white hair rippling out against the dark sky.

"Come down!" she yelled, still laughing and breathless. She didn't know if he could hear, but a moment later a broom appeared in his hand, and Lucius was flying down to meet her. He landed in the grass with a dainty thud, stalked over to where she still lay, and dropped down beside her.

"A broom?" Hermione laughed, reaching over to smack his chest. Of course he had picked up on her trick with the pocket-size broom. "We could have flown down this whole time and you didn't tell me!"

Lucius grinned as he rolled over onto his elbow. "It wouldn't be falling if I had." Hermione shook her head and breathed out a long, whistled sigh. "How did it feel?" he asked, running a finger along the side of her cheek.

Hermione forced herself over so she was facing him too. "Like magic. Not like… magic, magic," she said, gesturing to the wand still clutched in his hand. "But that kind of magic I dreamed about as a little girl, before I knew it existed. Impossible and yet…absolutely fucking magnificent."

"I'm not sure little Hermione would have used the word fucking," he said with a smirk.

She smacked his chest again, but this time he grabbed her wrist before she could hit him. With a sudden lurch, he was on top of her, straddling her thighs and pinning both wrists to the cold ground.

"What happened to the proper Lord Lucius Malfoy?" Hermione teased, trying to squirm away, unable to hide the ridiculous grin plastered to her face.

Lucius leaned down, nose brushing hers. His grip tightened around her wrists as his hips rolled into hers. "I left him behind in the twenty-first century," he drawled, warm breath washing over her face.

She struggled again, trying to buck her hips up and knock him off balance, but he knew her too well already, mouth coming to latch on to the skin below her ear. Hermione squealed as his tongue made contact, but before long they had turned into whimpers, into sighs.

"Do you know what else is good about this particular spot?" he whispered, teeth nibbling at the lobe of her ear.

"Mmm…" She looked around, catching sight of the castle wall to her left. "No windows around…no one to see you fuck me?"

"Ten points to Gryffindor."

Lucius turned his attention to her bodice, releasing one hand to fondle her breasts. But just as his fingers dipped below the neckline, the sound of footsteps racing across the grass caught her attention. Hermione twisted around; through the dimness of early dawn, she could make out three figures racing through the grass a little distance away. They were evidently attempting to stay in the shadow of the wall, where they couldn't be spotted, but with the alcove between the towers, there was nowhere to hide.

"Are those students?" Lucius whispered as they neared the edge of the tower.

Hermione's eyes narrowed on their green collars. "Slytherins." Pushing Lucius off her, Hermione scrambled to her feet. "Hey! Stop!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the field. Only one figure remained beyond the wall, but that one skidded to a stop. "All three of you! Come here!"

With all the reluctance they could apparently muster, the three students walked towards her, two of them with an uneven, stumbling gait. As they neared, their features came into view. Three boys. Three seventh-years. And the one at the back of their sorry little line?

Corvinus Fucking Gaunt.

Hermione let them come to her. Lucius was by her side now, arms folded across his chest. When they finally stopped before her, two of the boys had their eyes downcast. Only Corvinus was looking forward, his eyes on Hermione.

"What exactly are you three doing out here?" Lucius asked. Hermione was glad for him to take charge; she wanted to be able to observe.

The two boys she didn't know looked at each other, then glanced in unison at Corvinus. Irritation flickered across his face before he turned to Lucius. "Out on a walk, Professor. And are you two doing the same?"

Lucius let out a cold, disbelieving laugh. "I think that matters not, Mr. Gaunt. How about you tell me what business three seventh-years have at five in the morning, in November, wandering the school grounds?" The blonde boy shuffled his feet. "Well? I haven't got all day, and unless you'd like a walk straight to the headmaster's office, I suggest you explain yourselves. Now."

"There's no need for that, Professor," Corvinus jumped in. "Christopher, show him," he ordered, elbowing the smaller boy who hadn't even looked in their direction.

Christopher shrugged off the small leather pack slung over his shoulder and pulled out an empty bottle of firewhiskey. He handed it to Lucius, who gave the opening a sniff before passing it to Hermione to do the same.

"Drinking?" she asked, incredulous. "You felt the need to sneak out onto the grounds to have a drink?"

Corvinus clasped his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. "It's a bit of a tradition, you see," he explained calmly, as the other boys continued to stare at their feet. Now that she was aware of the whiskey, she could pick out the sway in their bodies, the glassy redness in their downcast eyes. Only Corvinus was steady, though she detected an air of sloppy arrogance about him too. Not that that's unusual, she mused as he carried on. "These fellows and I, we prefer to let out a bit of steam on Friday nights. But the elves continued to find our stash in our room while cleaning, so we started visiting The Three Broomsticks."

"Sneaking into Hogsmeade, you mean," Lucius chided.

Corvinus dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Duncan Rosmerta, the barkeep, he's a friend of Christopher's father. Lets us come in for a nip on Fridays."

"And yet you still bring an empty bottle back?" Hermione held up the empty bottle.

Corvinus gave her a sickeningly sweet, apologetic smile. "He can't exactly allow students to drink at the bar, can he? We spend some time wandering town before finishing the bottle on our way back."

Hermione studied his face; the smile was fake, but was the story? Had he actually gone to the Chamber tonight and brought his buddies to keep watch? "You," she said sharply, turning to the blonde boy. "What's your name?"

"Ra…Rans…ford," he slurred, head lifting groggily to meet her gaze.

"Ransford," she echoed icily, and he bobbed his entire body. "Tell me what you did tonight, after supper until this moment."

The boy looked questioningly at his friends, but Corvinus simply smiled and stared straight ahead. "We studied…stars." He pointed a finger at the sky. "Astro…no….my tow…tower. Wait..ed un…till…late enough. Then… Broomsticks…" A crooked grin spread over his face. "Drank. Drank…a…lot." He stumbled forward, as if to reach the bottle in her hand, but Hermione quickly drew it away as Lucius steadied him by the shoulder.

"Thank you, Ransford," Lucius said in a tight voice, watching the boy to make sure he had his bearing before letting go. "Well?" He turned to Hermione.

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't want to believe the story that Corvinus was just fucking off like some normal seventeen-year-old. But Ransford and his friend were certainly drunk, and his slurred story had made sense. He hardly seemed to be in a state to make something up. "We'll be docking points," Hermione said, turning back to the boys. "Fifty points from each of you. And your Head of House will be informed about your curfew violation." Her gaze slid up and down Ransford, to Christopher, and finally to Corvinus. Their eyes locked. He didn't blink. "Make sure that one gets to bed safely, and give him a bucket. He'll need it soon."

Corvinus bowed his head. "Of course, Professor Jean. He's perfectly safe in my care." He walked over to Ransford, taking his arm. Christopher took the other. Half stumbling and laughing, the three boys began heading back towards the castle. Even when Lucius had turned around to face her, she kept her gaze on them.

Just before they crossed behind the wall, Corvinus glanced over his shoulder and smirked.

"What was that?"

"What?" Hermione dragged her eyes away from where they'd disappeared, frowning.

"Just points?"

"Well what would you have done?"

"I don't know, perhaps a trip to that lunatic Viridian is exactly what three drunk, out of bounds students need."

Hermione's lips pressed into a hard line. Of course she agreed. But if the Headmaster decided to punish Corvinus with a stricter curfew, she might never be able to follow him into the Chamber.

Home.

You have to go home.

Hermione blew out a sigh. "I guess your story up on the roof had me sympathetic to what it was like being seventeen. Would a trip to see Dumbledore have changed you?"

Lucius scrubbed a hand down his jaw. "No. The exact opposite, in fact."

"Right." Hermione stepped up to him, relishing in the way his arms opened up for her. "They'll just have to wake up with wicked hangovers and learn the hard way," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"And what about you?" Lucius said, one hand dipping low to the curve of her ass. "Are you still up for learning the hard way?" he jested, giving her hip a squeeze.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Merlin, five minutes ago I was more than ready. But now?" A yawn escaped her, and she leaned her cheek into his chest. "I think it's finally time for bed."