Chapter 8: Kissing Evil
In no way was Hermione eager to deliver tailoring services to Lucius Malfoy, but she was a woman of her word. She hardly got a wink of sleep, imagining all the horrible scenarios in her head. Would he be shocked to see her? Would his polite demeanor change once they were out of the public eye? With every scenario, she tried to come up with the appropriate response, for herself and Maggie's business.
She put on a pair of black jeans, and a plain baby blue T-shirt, and tied a "Maggie's Tailoring" green apron around her waist. She combed through her hair and covered up the dark circles under her eyes with a little concealer. She nodded in approval of her reflection and went down to retrieve the delivery ticket and her tailoring tool kit.
Maggie walked through the door of the kitchen and into the store. She threw a satchel over her shoulder and gave Hermione a look that meant 'good luck' and a thumbs up.
The two of them left for their deliveries. Hermione went up the street while Maggie headed down into the lower parts of the village. The address under the delivery info didn't look familiar to her. It wasn't the normal home of the Malfoy's. She thought maybe Lucius had moved out of the house rather than Narcissa leaving. She pictured a broken Lucius, with the same bloodshot eyes and dark circles as the first time she ran into him in front of the grocery store.
After crossing the bridge over the Furlong River and passing through the tiniest village Hermione had ever seen, she came to a decent-sized hill. As she heaved her and her satchel up the hill, she could see a cul-de-sac of some of the most brilliant houses. There were two streets of houses. The first street was named Willow Lane, the second was called Shadowmourne Drive. She glanced at her ticket and turned down Shadowmourne Dr.
The first house on the corner had to be at least 6,000 square feet. It had a large stone archway that covered the front walkway that led to the grand entrance, framed by two beautifully carved wooden doors that were lined with vine-like designs around the edges. The outdoor space was equally impressive, featuring sculpted shrubbery and a large iron gate and fence that surrounded the outside of the house.
The second house had to be even bigger than the first house. The outside was walled with white stone and at least ten giant black framed windows. She could practically see the whole inside of the house. The house itself was tall but looked to be only a single level. Surrounding the property was a brick wall that came up to just above Hermione's waist. Embedded into the side of the stone wall was a mailbox with the letters 'MP' carved into the top panel.
She examined her sheet of paper with the delivery instructions again and started to compare addresses. It had to be the giant, black, victorian house at the end of the cul-de-sac. With three levels of windows, the house looked almost taller than Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And it was completely black. Back panels, black windows, and a black, steep, pitched roof that seemed to puncture the sky. Along the sides of every window were tiny silver and gold floral designs that looked to be made out of glass.
The entrance featured diamond-like features with pearly white hinges and hardware against a large, solid black door. Surrounding the house was dark foliage, and around them was a tall black iron fence with pointed tips on every post. She entered through the unlocked gate, which felt unusual for a man like Lucius, and saw the dozens of breathtaking white rose bushes. Their petals seemed to glow, even with a cloudy overcast.
She walked up the front steps and gazed at the intimidating front door. There was a doorbell and a black door knocker in the shape of a snake with its tongue as the knocker. She opted for a simple knock at the door. She stood a few feet back, reminding herself to keep her shoulders back and desperately trying to shove away the billions of butterflies that danced in her stomach.
Nothing.
She couldn't hear any noise or shifting sounds in the house. She begged the universe to let Lucius be out of the house due to forgetfulness. Then she thought of Maggie, and how a bad review from a man like Lucius Malfoy could put Maggie's Tailoring out of business. She tried the doorbell and a dark, ominous chime echoed through the house. She could hear the sound of feet clapping against the floors until a click of the handle and a turn of the knob exposed a tall man with silvery blond hair that went down his chest and shoulders that were exposed by an open velvet green robe.
"Hermione?" His voice cracked, but his eyes barely grew wide in the way she imagined them to. His eyes looked puffy like he hadn't gotten any sleep and the whites of his eyes were violently red like he had been crying.
"Hello, I'm here from Maggie's Tailoring to help with a fitting?" She did a small curtsy and fumbled with the strap of her bag, forcing herself to avoid staring at the open parts of his robe. It went down to just above his knees, but he wore what looked like a pair of black satin pajama bottoms.
He didn't say anything. He hardly looked shocked to see her. He looked at her from head to toe, stopping shortly at her green apron and satchel, but then making his way back to her eyes. Hermione's heart was in her throat. He looked just as pitiful as he did when she ran into him the first time.
Without another word, he dropped his head and stared at the floor, turned around, and motioned for Hermione to follow him inside. She followed him into the house, and quietly shut the door behind her. The inside of the house was even more immaculate than the outside. It was completely open, she could see into what looked to be a sitting area, then a dining room table long enough to fit the entire staff of Hogwarts. The floors were a beautiful marble mix of back, pearl, and gold.
Along the walls were painted pictures, but not of the Malfoys as she expected. They were paintings of dark skies and stormy seas or fields of flowers that had been caught in the rain. There was one of a woman with beautiful red curls pinned into a bun, with pearl earrings dangling from her ears. She wore a golden Victorian gown that parted in the middle to reveal a deep green underdress and in her hand was a wand. Hermione didn't recognize her, but the plaque beneath the painting had the name 'Cassandra Malfoy' carved in golden letters.
On both sides of the large room were two grand staircases that led up to a balcony that overlooked both sides of the room. She followed Lucius up the left staircase and down to the end of the hallway into a large circular room. It reminded her of the store. Along one side of the room was a half circle of mirrors with a step stool in the center, and on the other side were racks filled with robes, suits, tuxes, and coats. This room was also adorned with immaculate luxurious features, she didn't think such mundane objects could be designed so intricately. She fought back her stunned reaction and clenched her jaw shut.
Lucius walked into the middle of the circle of mirrors and turned back to Hermione. She clutched her satchel even tighter at the way his eyes seemed to see right through her. He motioned to the step stool. She plopped her satchel down a few feet away, feeling completely exposed due to the eight or nine mirrors surrounding the two of them. He stepped up onto the step stool and untied the front of his robe, letting it fall to the floor.
Hermione knew her face was burning red. Every mirror around her had a different angle of his reflection, making it feel impossible for her not to look.
'If I make this awkward, it will be awkward. If I make this normal it will be normal.' She told herself. She pulled out her measuring tape and a small spiral notebook. She decided to get it over with and looked directly at Lucius through the front-facing mirror. His chest was well-defined like it was sculpted by a Greek artist. Muscles rippled beneath his skin, a true testament to his strength. The bumps in both his arms and biceps were well-defined, and the veins in his arms proved to be prominent, filled with gorgeous blue blood that contrasted well with his pale complexion. His abdominal muscles were framed by smooth ridges, and she wondered if they were soft to the touch as well.
'No!' She thought. She shook the thoughts away as best as she could. 'This can't be happening to me.' Hermione felt like the most unlucky woman in the world. She was sure any other woman would feel blessed to have a man this stunning in front of a dozen mirrors, with any angle at their disposal.
She knew if she looked any longer, Lucius might think she was staring. She couldn't handle any further embarrassment, especially from a man who used to despise her. She unwinded the measuring tape and first measured the length of his calves. She wanted to put as much distance as possible between her and his bare chest and stomach. His sweet scent of pine and sandalwood brought back the memory of running into him outside the Witching Hour.
She scribbled down the length and width of his calves, dreading having to move further up. She had to measure the width of his thighs next. She thought if she could do it quickly, she could get this whole thing over with. She hated the silence but was too afraid to speak. She couldn't tell if Lucius felt the same. She glanced at his face in a mirror's reflection, but he looked like his mind was somewhere else. It was as if his body had become a hollow shell.
She cleared her throat. "You have a lovely home." She told him.
'Is that all I could think of to say?!' She wished she could retract those words from the air as if they were tangible. She pretended to scribble down invisible numbers to hide the now bright pink shade that flushed her cheeks. She wondered if it were possible to make the tension in the room any thicker.
"It was my mother's house." He replied. This felt so different than the interaction they shared outside the Witching Hour. She didn't want to admit it, but something was alluring about Lucius that night. Instead of hating her and her whole existence, he seemed delighted to have run into her. The way he accepted her leaving Hogwarts without any snide comments- even went on to call her smart, it was like she was speaking to a charming fake.
Hermione looked up from the notebook with a look of disbelief. "Is that who that woman is? The painting downstairs?"
"Was. And yes." His tone was blunt, and his words felt clean and sharp, with nothing more to say. Yes, the air felt even thicker now that she managed to bring up his dead mother.
'So much for small talk.' She thought. Still wanting to put off his exposed chest and stomach, she stood on her tippy toes and began measuring the base of his neck. As she reached around to grab the other side of the measuring tape, her fingertips brushed over his collarbones.
'So stupid,' she thought to herself. 'His skin is soft.' She went back and wrote down the new measurements.
"You left Hogwarts to work as a seamstress?" She looked back into the mirror's reflection and saw his eyes were now locked on hers. She couldn't tell if he was patronizing her or if he was genuinely curious.
"No, not exactly." She wasn't sure how much she should say regarding her sudden departure from school.
"So, why did you leave Hogwarts?" He was still staring at her, but it wasn't in a mocking way. It was like Lucius cared to know things about her, or at least wanted to fill the silence.
She shrugged. "It's a long story, but to make it short I just couldn't bear being in the same place as Ron anymore." She could feel her eyes burn with tears, but she swallowed hard and changed direction. "Initially, I was going to return home to London, but when I got to the station I found the flyer for this job and decided to stay here."
She studied his face, curious to see his reaction. The last thing she wanted was a judgment from Lucius Malfoy. But his face didn't change. She went and wrote down a few more numbers. She gulped, unable to avoid it any longer, so she wrapped the tape measure around his shoulders, measuring the width of his chest and shoulders. She tried hopelessly not to touching his bare skin, but her hands were trembling.
"Ronald Weasley?" Lucius' eyes followed her from his left shoulder to his right shoulder.
She nodded and turned to write a few more numbers down in her spiral notebook. Even though her back was turned, she could feel he was watching her. A surge of anxiety coursed through her veins as she fumbled around inside her satchel for invisible tools she knew weren't there. Anything to avoid his eyes.
"We started dating at the beginning of our last year, but Ron couldn't seem to look past it after horrible rumors started about me and Harry Potter. Even though he ended things between us, the rumors kept spreading and growing. I couldn't take it anymore. So I left." She turned back around, no surprise that Lucius was inspecting her. His blue eyes felt like ice on her skin as she went back to measure around his waist.
"Incredibly foolish." He said. He shook his head, and suddenly his expression looked annoyed.
Her heart began to pound at the thought of arguing with him but she refused to let someone like Lucius Malfoy call her foolish. "Am I foolish for doing what was best for me?" She scoffed. Irritated, she started to wrap the tape measure around one of his forearms. Suddenly, the tape measure snapped back as Lucius turned toward her and gripped her wrist, his eyes now glaring at her.
"No, not you." He whispered. His expression looked mournful, but not for himself. It was as if he was upset for her. She didn't understand. Her instinct would have been to pull away, but the way the two of them locked eyes felt as if the world around them didn't exist.
He continued. "Weasley is foolish and it's a shame his incompetence on the issue caused you to feel like you had no other choice." His face seemed so apologetic. Even the way his lips quivered captivated her as if he was about to cry for her. His voice was so deep and so soft, it felt soothing to listen to. The two of them looked down at her wrist still in his grip, but neither she nor Lucius moved away. It was like she was locked in place, and to her surprise, she didn't mind.
Her heart was racing as if trying to outrun time. Suddenly, Lucius stepped down from the step stool, their bodies now only inches away from each other. His other hand moved up her shoulder and found the nape of her neck. The warmth of his skin sent jolts of lightning through her body causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. She watched his rain-cloud-colored eyes disappear behind his eyelids and embraced the captivating smell of his natural musk of pine and sandalwood as he pressed his lips against hers.
She knew she should pull away. Nothing about this made any sense. Lucius hated her and she hated him. He was renowned as a high-ranking wizard. She was there to deliver tailoring services to help Maggie. Socially the two of them couldn't be more opposite. The thoughts swirled around in her mind along with the image of Lucius' bare chest that was now pressed against her. His grip around her wrist slowly began to tighten as the hand around the nape of her neck made its way to the back of her head, his fingers becoming entangled through her hair. He pulled her into him tighter, and Hermione's free hand pressed into his chest. Hermione couldn't fight it any longer and eventually, she surrendered.
Their eyes opened for only a moment before closing again as the two of them deepened their kiss and closed any remaining gaps between them. Their lips fell into a passionate rhythm as the tip of his touch danced across the edge of her lips. She gladly accepted him further as her hand moved from his chest to his back, her fingers and fingernails feeling and gripping the skin and muscles of his shoulder. He let a small grunt escape as they both parted momentarily to catch their breath. Something was happening and she couldn't tell what. The way his mouth moved and danced with hers made her want more of him, but the nagging voice in the back of her mind was now beginning to scream.
She pushed herself away from him, his hand still holding her wrist. As they both fought to catch their breath, he slowly released his grip and stepped away to put more space between them. She flattened the back of her hair and smoothened out the front of her apron, frantically trying to quiet her breathing and slow the beat of her heart. She could feel her pulse in the tips of her toes and she could hear its violent drumming in her ears.
He turned and sat down on the step stool, his hand running through the length of his long silver hair. He rested his forehead into his palm.
"I'm so sorry." He said. "I think you should go."