Hermione Granger was the absolute picture of calm and serenity. Or so she wanted him to believe. Were it not for her clenched jaw and flashing eyes, Lucius would have been almost willing to indulge her obvious delusion.
"Mr. Malfoy," she greeted, before snapping her monstrosity of a binder shut and standing from her dragon leather chair— delightfully hypocritical bit of furniture, that. "Please wait here."
"So formal," he commented, as she walked toward where he still occupied the doorway.
He was ever so tempted to make her slide past him, but such would be both crass and counterproductive. Lucius stepped to the side, gallantly holding the door for her. Miss Granger narrowed her eyes as she passed him; it wasn't the sort of door that generally might close itself, after all.
She paused just outside the door as he made his own way into her office.
"And don't touch anything."
A grin she couldn't see spread upon his face.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Lucius promised over his shoulder, spying the chair he'd claimed on his previous visit. He was pleased to note Granger hadn't transfigured it back to its previous, inhospitably uncomfortable state. Though she had transfigured it maroon of all colors. A quick tap of his cane-ensconced wand fixed that well enough, and Lucius settled in to wait.
He had already perused her office on his previous ventures, and nothing of note had changed in the interim. Granger kept very little of interest inside; even her warded files were merely that. Of course, she wouldn't be foolish enough to keep anything even vaguely incriminating at hand, but it made for an incredibly boring wait.
Though Lucius supposed that was rather the point. He'd surprised her by arriving early on purpose to see how she would react. Hermione could have had her feckless little PA fetch whatever she needed; she had chosen to flee instead. He wasn't certain if he found her retreat mildly gratifying or mildly insulting. It was still early days, but he was certain she would cease running soon enough.
Were it not for the time he spent watching her fits of vindictiveness in the Wizengamot chambers, Lucius would have erroneously thought Hermione Granger to be a diffident, unimaginatively dull, painfully goody two shoes, ministry drone.
The first time he noticed her as more than the brains behind Harry Potter's unwitting triumph had been an utter fluke, ages ago now, before she even truly had a right to be in the chambers at all, having only just received her first position beyond errand girl. Lucius, himself, had only just been welcomed back into the ministry and was observing changes to the Wizengamot for some lobbying purpose or another. Miss Granger was, naturally, lobbying for rights of some creature, and Daemon Rosier perfunctorily took the wind out of her sails. Had the wizard stopped there, she might not have retaliated so viciously. But the fool publicly denigrated her position, her gender, her lineage, and, most damningly, her intelligence. At the time, Granger took the attack graciously, boringly.
Needless to say, the proposal was dropped.
Hermione had waited, biding her time, striking when it could absolutely not be traced back to her. Were it not for her telling self-satisfied little smile when Rosier's extended leave of absence was announced some weeks later, Lucius might have written it off as coincidence. Though, perhaps not. Living through two wars, and politically coming out only slightly worse for wear, Lucius Malfoy could spot subterfuge from a mile away.
He watched Miss Granger much more closely after that. Delighting in her subtle deviousness, which she tried to hide behind a veneer of brash righteousness. Lucius opposed her eagerly and often, toeing the line to avoid her direct retaliation. Much too clever to ever get caught from her small vengeances, she was wasted in Creatures.
She otherwise lacked everything a lobbyist required: namely, a lineage, charisma, and galleons.
Hermione was tenacious to a fault, and despite her background and lack of social graces, Lucius recognized potential when he saw it. And with his newfound power to fluster her—
Granger walked back into the office, along with two wholly unwelcome interlopers. Lucius took their measure and quickly dismissed them as little more than typical ministry drones: unambitious and eager to be told what to do, but ultimately contributing nothing to the conversation, much less the decision making.
He merely raised a brow at the presence of her underlings, and the witch in front of him simply set her jaw stubbornly, in silent reply.
"Mr. Malfoy, this is Susan Whitby and Malcolm Baddock. Susan and Malcom, this is Mr. Malfoy."
Ah, afraid of making another gaffe. Lucius grinned unrepentantly. Hermione scowled.
"Call me Lucius, please," he invited solicitously, "And of course, that goes double for you, Hermione."
She faltered in her steps, swiftly covering herself as she drew two more chairs from the ether.
"I think a little formality goes a long way, Mr. Malfoy," she said tartly, getting everyone settled for the meeting ahead.
The two junior department drones' presence disrupted his carefully laid plans; he would get no further with her today, if the chit was intent on using her underlings as human shields.
He would need to dissuade this behaviour for the future. But for now—
"Let's get started, shall we?"
Lucius tapped his cane to the tiny tome he pulled from the inner pocket of his robes, unshrinking his copy of the unwieldy collection of propositions, delighting in the witch's consternation at his transfiguration of the previously ghastly thing.
"As you may have noticed, I evaluated your proposals."
"Yes. I noticed," Hermione grit out.
"Then where shall we start? This is your department's pet project, after all. I am merely here to facilitate."
Granger's brows drew down as she bit her bottom lip.
"I actually haven't had a chance to go through all of your annotations yet, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps you could point us toward the very few you did approve of?"
"My, my, Hermione Granger, unprepared? I must admit, I expected better," Lucius tsked.
The young woman bristled, glaring daggers at him. With a glance at her two uneasily shifting underlings, Lucius relented, not wanting to completely alienate her of embarrass her in front of her own employees, as such ran directly counter to his plans.
"Winged horses. Particularly of the racing variety. That proposal has promise," Lucius said as he ran a thumb over the head of his cane noting how Hermione's eyes caught on the motion. It was uneasy, but her attention was gratifyingly centered on him.
Her mouth shifted into a grimace.
"I want to pass meaningful legislation, Malfoy. And while horse welfare is important, I have quite a few lycanthropic related proposals I was hoping to combine into an omnibus bill, as their plight is slightly more pressing."
Lucius snorted. "That's never going to happen."
He'd explicitly marked every recommendation pertaining to lycanthropy and werewolves with varying strengths of a resounding 'no.' Even if she hadn't looked through all the proposals, surely she must have realized the present political climate was simply not right for any legislation favorable to them. But then, perhaps, as idealistic as Granger still was, she very likely didn't.
"And why not?" she demanded, "They're common sense measures. The main costs would be only be in monitoring compliance and ameliorating current conditions. It would actually save galleons to-"
"Costs of a new program aside, Greyback was caught a mere three years ago. There's no taste for werewolf good will in the chambers or in the public eye."
"Nearly everyone afflicted with lycanthropy was turned without their consent," Granger said, slamming her hand down on the desk. "Free wolfsbane is not enough when witches and wizards are terrified of even registering their condition. As soon as they do, they're vilified and treated as second-class citizens through no fault of their own."
She flushed prettily in her pique, and Lucius shifted subtly to hide his growing regard for that fact. It seemed any flavor of her fluster was attractive— interesting to note.
It was time, however, to nip this particular conversation in the bud.
"You have no backers, you have no funding to garner support. The mere suggestion of loosening restrictions on their employment and reporting requirements will cause a field day in the papers. It's a non-starter at this time, Hermione."
She opened her mouth to retort, but the other woman— Susan, was it?— Cut in with a cough. He'd almost forgotten the feckless duo was even there. The man seemed content to watch and listen for now, but Susan spoke.
"Er, Hermione? He's right that it would probably be a good idea to lay some more groundwork for support first. Maybe we can table the discussion on werewolves and circle back to it once we've come up with an action plan?"
Granger opened and closed her mouth like a fish for several telling seconds.
"Right," she finally managed, reigning in her temper. If he didn't know better, he might have thought she was occluding, based on her tone. Her eyes still flashed as she addressed him. Curious. "I don't disagree the racehorse proposal would likely be an easy sell to get passed, but I'd like to submit at least one to two more impactful bills at the same time."
"Perhaps you would like the opportunity to review my notes?" he offered magnanimously.
Granger squinted at him as if searching for the catch. Lucius affected an innocent look that only served to make her squint more suspicious. He had to keep her somewhat off-kilter, after all. It would make her eventual capitulation all the sweeter.
"That would probably be for the best," she replied. "If that's all, then we can cut this meeting a bit short for today. Susan, if you wouldn't mind looking into preliminary steps to address the werewolf issue. Malcolm, please work on gathering other laws and precedents relating to winged horses."
Hermione glanced back at him. "Mr. Malfoy, I suppose you've done your homework already, so, I'll see you Wednesday."
They were back to cheek then. Excellent.
The others gathered their notes, standing awkwardly as Lucius made no move to do the same.
"I'd like to have a private word with your illustrious leader, if you two don't mind running along."
Her underlings looked to Hermione as though for permission.
Hermione grit her teeth.
'I want a private word' my arse.
"Thank you both for coming. I'll see you in the morning," she said with a tight smile. She desperately wanted to rub at the burgeoning headache in her temples, but narrowly resisted. He would know he got to her.
Susan and Malcolm nodded and fled, eager to escape for the evening. She was frankly eager for the same and would be following in their footsteps as soon as she excised her Malfoy shaped problem.
On second thought.
Hermione surreptitiously cast a muffling spell on her office door. Most of the office would be leaving soon and while she thought she was mature enough not to scream at Lucius Malfoy, with the way their conversations tended to spin out of control, one never could tell. She really ought to do something more long lasting if he was to become an annoyingly semi-permanent fixture in her office.
"Using your minions as a buffer. Good thinking, but you aren't going to evade me that easily, Hermione."
She fought to contain her grimace at being caught out, but Hermione doubted she was successful.
"They're not minions, they're my coworkers, Mr. Malfoy. And I prefer you call me Miss Granger. Or literally anything else."
Bollocks. That last bit wasn't supposed to be out loud.
"Now, now, I think we've moved beyond that bit of formality. And if we're going on preference, I prefer for you call me Lucius. Though, I suppose Luscious would do in a pinch."
Hermione cringed. He was really never going to let that go, was he?
"You know I never meant to say that," Hermione said, really wanting to ask him never to bring it up again, but knowing that doing so would ensure he do mentioned it at every given opportunity. She knew he could tell how flustered she was, and she hated it.
"I know no such thing. Would it be so terrible to admit you want me?" he asked.
Hermione froze. Her brain short-circuited. And she was mildly convinced her heart took an extra-long pause.
Mr. Malfoy merely sat there, thumb idly running across the head of that damnable cane as he waited for her to actually answer his question.
"I—," her cheeks felt uncomfortably hot and her mouth was unhelpfully dry. Hermione snapped her mouth shut.
"Because were you to do so, I might be delighted to inform you that your regard is not wholly unreciprocated."
Lucius Malfoy was the poster-child for sneaky and underhanded machinations. He didn't just say things plainly. Well, not that what he said was precisely plain, but for him to openly address the erumpent in the room, it might as well be an overt declaration of interest. Which, given their history, obviously could not be the case. He couldn't be serious with what he just said, so what in the ever-loving fuck was this about?
"What did you actually stay behind to discuss, Mr. Malfoy?"
Cowardly? Maybe. Hermione prayed to Morgana that this strange little interlude wasn't his primary purpose for staying behind.
"Fine. Delude yourself for now, pet. But would it be so surprising to find I merely wanted an uninterrupted moment of your company?"
"Yes," Hermione replied emphatically. "You've made no secret of despising me since I first set foot in the Wizengamot."
Truthfully likely before that, but she had never had direct interactions with the infuriating wizard prior to that point.
"Our spirited debates, you mean?" Lucius laughed.
"If you want to strain credulity to call them that," Hermione said. She wondered, not for the first time, if they simply had two very, incompatibly, different views of reality.
"In the beginning, perhaps. You were an upstart and needed to learn your place. Though, I dare say you've enjoyed our more recent squabbles in the chambers as much as I have."
"My place? You only have your seat in the Wizengamot due to sheer nepotism."
He sighed and tutted as though he were disappointed in her. Not that she gave one whit what he thought.
"Tell me again, Miss Granger, how did you come by your position?" Lucius asked silkily.
Hermione's brow furrowed. While she was more than happy to leave the discussion of their dubious mutual attraction behind, she didn't see what he was angling for with this turn in conversation.
"I don't understand what you mean. Goldstein retired, and I was more than qualified."
"And you're certain that being a favorite of Minister Shacklebolt had nothing to do with it?"
She felt her face heat at the insinuation. Regardless of the countless late hours, toiling, and dedication that had led to her appointment, Hermione couldn't deny that from an outside perspective none of her endeavors would be known. It would be much easier to believe she was promoted at such a young age due to her friendship with Harry rather than for her aptitude.
"Of course not..." she trailed off, not wanting to admit Malfoy might be right about appearances.
Unfortunately, this gave him ground to continue in his unwelcome observations.
"It would therefore stand to reason that Shacklebolt seeks to groom you for a position in power. Though Creatures itself is a dead end, holding a department seat before the age of thirty will no doubt aid in your transition into the DMLE or perhaps, the Minister's cabinet," Lucius concluded.
"That's not at all—" Hermione sputtered, "I don't. I'm not going anywhere."
When she was younger and more starry-eyed, the seat of Minister for Magic had been something of an aspiration. It still was, truthfully, but Hermione was content to do the most good where she found herself; it wasn't something she was actively working toward. She had too much to worry about in making the DRCMC actually functional, for the time being.
Lucius tilted his head at her as if she were mad.
"So, you seek to remain as the head for Control of Magical Creatures for the rest of your career?"
Hermione drew up short. She wasn't planning that, but she hadn't yet had a chance to elaborate on her misty future plans since her recent appointment.
"Just what are you implying, Mr. Malfoy?"
"What is that muggle saying?"
Hermione blinked at the wizard owlishly. If anyone had told her a mere week ago that Lucius Malfoy would know, much less employ, any muggle saying, she would have laughed in their face.
"Ah, yes. Training wheels. Despite any competence you may claim to have, it is irrelevant to why you are sitting where you are sitting now. You were a war heroine; you've gained this chair by sheer nepotism, as you're so eager to point out. Though the magical world is more than eager to forget the war, you're a known quantity to wizarding Britain at large. It would be foolish for Shacklebolt not to use you to further his agenda."
"And just what agenda would that be?" she asked.
Hermione was really starting to hate these little chats with Lucius. Especially when he revealed he might have some modicum of intelligence and nudged her to think about things she might not have otherwise considered.
"I'm afraid I wouldn't know," he drawled airily. "But it would behoove us both for you to find out. Now, with regard to your championing of the werewolf cause, you'll need an expert lobbyist capable of manipulating both the Wizengamot and the court of public opinion."
Ah. Finally, back to the point.
"And who do you have in mind?"
Lucius smiled sharply and made a grandiose gesture to himself.
"You," Hermione deadpanned. What was he playing at? "Did you not just tell me my omnibus proposal was a resounding no?"
"As it stands now, yes. But I'm open to being convinced to change my stance. Convince me."