Who did he think he was acting with that air of smugness? It was sickening if she were telling the truth. The way in which he waltzed in and sat beside her and then challenged her when she told him he couldn't import a dragon was brazened, to say the least, and she wondered what made him so sure she would approve such a thing even if he did apply. Being a gigantic, over-confident arse didn't grant immediate approval, which would be much to his dismay.

She sighed sadly, chin resting on the palm of her hand as her mind wandered away. She could hardly focus on her work. He was consuming all her thoughts, more so than her husband did or ever had, and she didn't know how to feel about it. The man was interesting, to say the least, and coupled with his over-confidence and handsomeness; it was hard to push him from her mind. It was clearly obvious he was flirting with her the other night, and she would be lying if she said she didn't like the attention from the man.

She loved her husband. Or at least she thought she did. He was a good man; he loved her. There was no denying that, but something had been off of late. Rarely did he want any affection from her and the last time he had slept with her was. She counted on both hands ten weeks ago and made no effort to instigate lovemaking. She had tried. Oh, Merlin had she tried, but there were only so many rejections one could take before it began to sting. She couldn't remember the last time he kissed her, really kissed her with the fire of a thousand suns and the unbridled passion she had once been on the receiving end of.

Hermione knew Ron had been busy of late, and she appreciated that, but something had to give. She was almost in this marriage alone with him constantly travelling and then always being too tired to show her any genuine affection. Every time he came home from an away match, she had high hopes that would be when he would come home and ravish her. It never happened. She craved the affections of her husband and instead she got the cold shoulder.

It all made so much sense now. She was only seeing Lucius is this light because she was so sexually deprived and craved human affection. She was clutching at him in the hope he could fulfil her sexual desires and the large, lonely hole deep within her.

This stopped now. She was going to go home, sit down with Ron and talk to him about his lack of emotional availability as of late.

o-o-o-o-o

Lucius sat with his legs crossed in his study. A snifter of brandy sat idly in his hand, grey eyes boring a hole into the fireplace before him as he sat in deep thought. Why was this woman constantly on his mind? In a world of a million colours, she was as beige as they came. She wasn't exciting in the least and she was insufferable at times and yet here he was, finding himself fighting the urge to go take a shower and rub one out over her. The fucking little chit had something about her that he couldn't put his finger on that made her desirable to him.

Perhaps it was the fact Narcissa hadn't slept with him in nigh on five months and if he were being honest, he'd bend the next house-elf that walked into the room over and sink his cock in them just to get a release. Obviously, it wasn't through lack of trying that she was withholding sex from him, she just wasn't present in the relationship anymore and he wondered if mentally she had tapped out of the marriage but physically, she hung around for fear of the retribution to come should she end the marriage to a Malfoy.

Lifting the glass to his lips, he downed his hefty portion of brandy in one swallow, slamming the cup on the oak side table. He continued to ponder his life with Narcissa. Their marriage was one of convenience and little more than tradition. The love that may have once been hiding under the surface had all but gone by the wayside. He loved her, but he wasn't in love with her, and he assumed it was the same for her. Well, at least that is the way it looked at him. Rarely did they converse anymore and often she slept in a totally different room than he did.

Tapping his fingers against his bottom lip in deep thought, he pondered to himself for a few moments. Did he still have it in him to not only seduce a married woman but one twenty-five years his junior and get her into his bed? Deep down, his ego was screaming yes. An enormous smile spread across his face at the prospect of the task he was setting himself. After all, Narcissa only had herself to blame for this… Idle hands were the devil's playthings and play he would. If he couldn't get his basic sexual needs met by his wife, then he would seek counsel elsewhere.

o-o-o-o-o-o

"Ron," she beamed, trying to greet him when he arrived home from training later that night. Stepping towards him enthusiastically, she threw her arms around him as if she were greeting a friend she hadn't seen in years. Feeling him tense against her body and not reciprocate the feelings, she gently let go of her husband, heart sinking to her toes as she did so. Taking a step back, she must've looked crestfallen because his expression softened tentatively for a fleeting second.

"Hermione," he began, frustration in his tone. "I'm tired. They are working me to the bone over there, and the last thing I want to do is come home and be coddled."

She sniffed indignantly. "It's fine Ron, I see where I stand in this marriage, and I clearly come second after your team." Her shoulders rose high in a shrug as she turned her back to him and began to walk away.

"Hermione," his voice was stern as he spoke to her, causing her to stop in her tracks. "I love you. I do. But after training all day I'm spent, I've no energy for anything else."

She didn't even turn back around. That excuse was a cop-out if she had ever heard one in her life. For a man his age not to crave sexual affection a few times a week was odd, to say the least, considering it wasn't all that long ago he was pursuing her every night and now she didn't even get as much as a kiss.

Right now, Lucius Malfoy was looking better and better as the days ticked by.

o-o-o-o-o-o

There he was, she thought to herself, stomach back flipping ten times as he walked towards her. Sitting in the stands at a quidditch match she didn't particularly want to go to but was forced to anyway. She sat alone in the section of seats reserved for partners, wives and girlfriends of team members. Never really getting on with any of the other women besides Ginny, she opted to sit alone. If she had to be here, she didn't want to be any more miserable and have to sit around engaging in small talk.

"Miss Granger," a low, deep growl met her ears, followed by the icy breeze as he sat beside her.

She didn't even correct him. It was obvious to her this was a game to him and the game she shall play. If Ron didn't want to give her the affection her heart so desperately craved, she would seek it from someone who was clearly offering it with no strings attached.

"Mr Malfoy," she offered back in a low whisper, not even turning her head to look at him but relishing in the fact she could spend some time with another human that actually wanted to be near her.

"You look depressed," he offered genuinely, his fabric-clad knee resting against her smooth bare one.

She cast a sideways glance at his knee and then raked up the length of his body before her eyes stopped for a fleeting moment on his lips. Pulling her gaze away, she looked out to the pitch again, waiting for the game to start. She really hated being at these things.

"Life's that bad, eh?" He asked with a curious upward inflection, his knee still resting against her own.

Exhaling heavily, it was as if she had let out months' worth of anguish she had been holding in. "You've no idea, Mr Malfoy. I love my husband dearly but he-" she stopped abruptly realising she was about to spill her life's issues to a man that probably couldn't be trusted, but at the same time… he was the only one of late that wanted to engage in conversation with her.

"He what?" He pushed, trying to dig for more information.

"He barely wants to know me anymore. Says his training makes him so tired he couldn't possibly spare an ounce of affection or energy on me," she spoke so bitterly her words were almost as toxic as poison.

This piqued his interest exponentially, and perhaps the task he had set for himself days earlier would be more obtainable than he had first imagined. How hard could it be to show the woman the affection she desperately craved in order to get her eating out of his hand and doing whatever it was he asked of her?

"Your husband is a fool, Miss Granger. He's a fit, young lad and if he is using training as an excuse not to touch you then I can tell you deep down perhaps his is straying to another woman's bed." There, the seed of doubt was planted and another step towards pushing her into his bed.

She paled considerably as she watched her husband fly past her seat without even as much as a glance in her direction, and she felt as if she wanted to vomit. What if he was right? What if Ron was straying to the bed of another woman? Merlin knew he had women trying to chat him up all the time.

"I… I never thought of that," her voice a hollow whisper.

Resting his hand on her bare knee, she looked down at the warm flesh enveloping her cold skin. She made no attempt to shake the offending hand from her knee. Instead, a shiver ran the length of her spine before her skin erupted in thousands of goosebumps.

"Who do you think will win this match, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head, pulling herself back to the present moment. "Please, call me Hermione."

"And you can call me Lucius," he offered. "It seems with our spouse's partnership we might be spending many long-suffering quidditch matches and parties together, so we may as well be on a first name basis."

"I agree," she offered back, not even realising the game had started. It was strange, she thought to herself, that she could have more of a conversation with a Malfoy than she could with the man whose last name she had taken in matrimony.

Removing his hand from her knee, he made a point of gently sliding his fingers halfway up her thigh before pulling his hand fully away. He knew by the way she stiffened under his touch and how her breathing stopped for a few seconds that it had an impact on her.

She watched with bated breath as he pulled his fingertips up her thigh, yearning for him to keep going higher and touch her, to sate the void within her that desperately needed to be filled but alas, of course, he didn't, of course, he wouldn't. He was Lucius Malfoy, the richest wizard in the world, and she, just Hermione, no one special, nobody of notoriety.

She exhaled sharply once his fingers left her leg, forgetting her husband was playing mere inches from where she sat. She snorted derisively to herself. He wouldn't have noticed, anyway.