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Once a Malfoy, Always a Malfoy	By : Inspire Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 9530 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the associated characters and settings of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, etc., referenced in this story belong to the respective copyright holders. They are being used for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Pairing(s): Hermione/Lucius (with flashbacks of Draco/Hermione and Lucius/Narcissa)

Warnings/Content: Deceased characters (not main pairing); Epilogue ignored.

Also present are consensual BDSM, minor bits of dubious consent, some vulgar language, and references to punishment, however Hermione is a strong character, who in no way resembles a doormat. The elements covered by the warning are easily spotted in case you'd like to avoid them and simply enjoy the rest of the story which has far more to do with growth than sex.

Author's/Artist's notes: This was written as a gift for deirdre_aithne with requested elements as part of the 2011 wizard_love exchange on LiveJournal. It is complete in three chapters.

"While Narcissa and Draco were forced before their time to leave this world and their family behind, they will be remembered, for to live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die."

Between Lucius and Hermione, Scorpius, made a soft noise. His grandfather lightly squeezed his shoulder as a reminder to remain strong while in public, as his mother squeezed his hand gently in support. The ten-year-old straightened his spine. He might have lost his father and grandmother but he still had his mother and grandfather. He knew Dad would want him to be brave for Mum's sake, and Grandmum would want him to be strong for Grandfa. The three of them were the only Malfoys left, and Scorpius was determined not to let his family down.

"Scorpius, if you would excuse us? I need to speak with your grandfather alone," Hermione wasn't sure whether her father-in-law would be wildly for her idea or against. Either way, Hermione doubted whatever would come out of his mouth would be appropriate for Scorpius' ears. Lucius Malfoy may have appeared to have accepted his son's Muggle-born bride into his family and home, but Hermione wasn't foolish enough to assume her welcome would continue much longer beyond Draco's death.

"All right, Mum," Scorpius stood and kissed his mother's cheek. "Good night, Grandfa."

"Good night, Scorpius. Rest well," Lucius granted him a small smile. He waited until the boy had closed the door behind him before turning his attention to Hermione and lifting an eyebrow. He was genuinely curious about what she had to say. Since the attack upon his son and wife in Diagon Alley that resulted in their murder, Hermione had been singularly withdrawn and uncommunicative except with Scorpius. The request for a private interview surprised him.

"I was wondering how soon you would like us out, sir," Hermione began. "It would be easier if you'd be willing to allow us to stay until the end of the month, but I'd understand if you'd like us gone sooner rather than later." Harry had already offered them a place with him, but Hermione felt it would be better for Scorpius if they found a cottage or flat for just the two of them.

"Out, you say?" Of all the things she might have said, that had to be the most ridiculous. Lucius rose and poured himself a brandy. Force of habit had him reaching for the sherry for Narcissa before he realized what he was doing. Feeling Hermione's eyes upon him, he turned with the decanter in his hand as if he had intended it for her all along. "Sherry?"

"No, thank you, sir." As much as spirits might calm her nerves, she wanted full use of her faculties. "I believe it would be best if Scorpius and I were to give you your privacy." Hermione forced herself to meet his eyes. He didn't appear relieved to have her offer to be gone, but then again, it wasn't as if she'd expected Lucius Malfoy to display that sort of emotion.

"I see," Lucius sneered as he returned to his seat with his drink in hand. "Now that my son is gone, you have no interest in continuing to fulfill your contractual obligations to the Malfoy family."

"That's not—I didn't—I mean this isn't about that ruddy contract! You never wanted me to marry Draco in the first place and I sincerely doubt that you want a Muggle-born to become mistress of Malfoy Manor. I'm simply trying to make it easy for you to be rid of us." Hermione huffed. That ridiculous marriage contract had taken three solicitors, five weeks, and four dozen revisions, until there had been a version everyone was willing to accept, even though none of the parties involved had been happy with the final version. Compromise, Draco had convinced her, was the only solution.

"Be that as it may, I was forced into accepting the inevitable then, as you are being forced into accepting the inevitable now," Lucius sipped his brandy and gave her the tiniest of lift of one shoulder. A Malfoy would never be so gauche as to shrug. "You and Scorpius are to remain."

Hermione wished to smack that smug look off his face but restrained herself. "Mister Malfoy—"

"Lucius. You have been calling me Lucius for years, Hermione. There is no reason to step back now." Especially considering the way she had bonded herself to the Malfoys through Draco and certain clauses in his own marriage contract with Narcissa, back sliding would not be advantageous to either one of them. "You agreed to raise your children here at Malfoy Manor. I intend to see that you do just that. I absolutely forbid you to remove yourself or my grandson from our home."

"You can't keep us prisoner!" Hermione's eyebrows shot up as she exclaimed in surprise. Surely he didn't think to keep them here indefinitely.

"You mistake me, my dear. I have no intention of keeping either of you locked up," a small smile graced his lips. The idea of having the Muggle-born shackled to the wall for a flogging or crawling beside him wearing nothing but a collar and a lead was not at all repulsive to Lucius, though he thought it might be to Hermione. Few women were as willing to accept a submissive role as his beloved Narcissa. "I simply intend to hold you to your contract. You will live here in Malfoy Manor and assume the role of mistress," he deliberately caressed the word, "as stipulated, until such time as Scorpius marries and settles down here with his own bride. That was the agreement, was it not?"

It was. She simply hadn't thought he'd have any desire to hold her to it. "I thought you'd want us gone. Wouldn't you prefer it?" Hermione tried to reason with him.

"What I prefer is irrelevant, not to mention impossible. Wishes will not bring back my wife or my son. Right now, Scorpius, and you, my dear, are all I have left. You bonded yourself to our family and married my son, and once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy, Hermione. Scorpius and I are all you have left." Lucius polished off his drink and stood. "Do not worry overmuch. I will leave you time to mourn before I claim my right to have you." He left the room without a backward glance, leaving behind a puzzled Hermione.

"Gods, you're stunning," Draco practically growled as her dress pooled around her ankles. "Weasley is an idiot."

"Malf—"

"Draco, Hermione." He didn't mind when she called him Malfoy in that huffy, exasperated tone, but right now, he wanted to reinforce the mind shift that brought them here. She might see this only as an experiment, but for him, it was the opportunity of a lifetime. "Call me Draco," he purred, drawing her closer in between his spread legs to kiss that adorable belly button. She wasn't conventionally beautiful, but she had a lush woman's body, and wild hair that made her look half-ravished before he'd so much as touched her. Weasley might have had her believing otherwise, but he knew she was fiery, passionate, and right now, she was his. He planned to see to it that she'd be his forever.

"Draco," she gasped as he drew her closer and his blond fringe and lips brushed her stomach.

"Checkmate!" Scorpius exclaimed excitedly as he bounced in his chair. The cough from his grandfather settled him down. "Pardon me, Grandfa. That is checkmate, sir. Thank you for the game."

Lucius suppressed a smile at his grandson's excitement. It had been a match well played and he was very proud of Scorpius' win, despite it coming at loss for Lucius himself. "Well done, my boy. You played superbly."

"I've been studying the chess book Mum bought me for my birthday. It really had some wicked—I mean excellent strategies," Scorpius busied himself with straightening the board so he wouldn't bounce about like a child. He was eleven and off to Hogwarts soon. He needed to behave properly. It was just so hard when he was vibrating with excitement.

"Scorpius, perhaps you should find your mother and thank her once again for the book," Lucius suggested. It looked as if the boy would knock the entire table over in his excitement if he did not find a release for his emotions soon. Better he should crow to his mother. Hermione would no doubt approve of the boy's excitement at besting his grandfather. "I shall return everything to its place."

"Thank you, sir." Rising from his chair, Scorpius gave his grandfather a small bow, and then impulsively tossed his arms around him in a hug, much as he used to do when he was little. He knew he'd done right when his grandfather's arms came around him to return the embrace. Scorpius' dad had always said that Malfoy men might say they didn't need hugs, but his dad had learned from Scorpius' mum, that Malfoy men were very much in need of hugs indeed.

Lucius watched him go before turning his attention back to the chessboard and chuckled. "Hugs. Harrumph."

"Heavens," she breathed when his hand finally stopped coming down on her bum.

"I take it you're enjoying it then?" Draco's voice was rich with pleasure.

"Yes. You don't have to sound so pleased with yourself, you know," she huffed, but it lost some of its power considering she was currently in nothing but her bra and knickers, draped over his lap with her bum 'a delectable shade of pink' as he'd called it when he paused to let her catch her breath in the middle of the dozen smacks they'd agreed to try.

"I beg to differ. I have a beautiful witch— Stop that," he said when she snorted. "You're beautiful if I say you're beautiful. I'm not deluded, Hermione. I happen to like your impossible hair. It makes you look as if you've just been shagged. And your arse is a wet-dream." He should know. He'd had a few dreams of plunging into her from behind. Those Muggle trousers she often wore didn't hide her figure at all. Draco's hand caressed her bottom. It was warm even through her knickers, and he was not only the one that made it so, he was the one that had her enjoying it. He had every right to be pleased with himself.

Hermione flushed with pleasure. She wasn't deluded either. She knew her hair was a fright, but she'd always thought she had a nice bum and legs. Dashing up and down the stairs of Hogwarts carrying a mountain of books was better than Quidditch for exercise, in her opinion, and Hermione still preferred to take the stairs rather than the lift. Her hips were wide, and her breasts were more to the small side, but they were perky, and Hermione didn't regret that even if Ronald Weasley had bemoaned her lack when groping her too hard. And then that worm had the nerve to complain that she lacked passion. She had plenty of passion. She simply needed someone to bring it out in her, someone who appreciated her.

Someone, surprisingly enough, like Draco Malfoy.

"Do you think … that is, might I try more?" Hermione bit her bottom lip and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"I am at your disposal," he purred. He'd be more than happy to give her more. "You may try anything you'd like, Hermione. I'd be happy to do any of the things you already know you like, as well." Draco wanted her falling apart for him.

"I don’t know what I like," she sighed. That was why she'd come up with this bizarre scheme, only now it didn't seem so bizarre at all. Draco was respectful, appreciative, and so very sexy. Hermione found herself hoping that he might be interested in something more than this one-time experiment given the way he was making her feel.

"Again, I say, Weaselbee is an idiot. He's been fumbling with you for how long? Has he never managed to give you an orgasm, even accidentally?" Draco had thought his estimation of that dolt could sink no further after witnessing the way he had treated a jewel like Hermione.

"It's not like that. We never … He … I …" Hermione blushed so fiercely her entire body was red. She yelped in surprise when Draco hauled her up to sit beside him.

Draco deposited her on the settee only briefly before grabbing her and putting her in back his lap, this time sitting up. She shifted a little, but didn't complain about a sore arse as some women might have done. In fact, she seemed to be squirming a little for another reason. "Define 'we never', Hermione." Draco caressed her cheek. If it was what he hoped, this was so much better than he'd thought. He'd meant to convince her to try with him if he could, and he'd find some way around Malfoy family expectations to make his father accept it, but if she was a virgin—please, gods, let her be a virgin—he would practically be required to marry her.

"What do you think it means?" She huffed. He was manhandling her, picking her up and moving her about like that. Surprisingly, Hermione had enjoyed it. He was much stronger than he looked. The soft wool of his trousers against her nearly bare and well-smacked bum was doing odd things to her insides. She should be used to that by now. Draco had been driving her wild ever since she'd proposed her experiment and he'd agreed to help. "We never had sex, all right?" She blurted it out. Draco had been surprising gentle with her feelings thus far, but that didn't mean he'd resist mocking her if he could, especially given her currently vulnerable position.

"Oh, that is definitely all right," he drawled, drawing his fingers along her jaw. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, Hermione." Draco shifted her closer.

"Is this some possessive, macho thing, where the man crows over having got there first?" If it was, Hermione wasn't sure she minded. It was nice to be looked at the way Draco looked at her, as if she was more precious than gold. He drew her closer and she blushed to feel how much she'd aroused him. Ronald Weasley—the worm—would have been pawing at her and trying to guilt her into sex if he was even half as hard as Draco was now. The hardness against her hip made her feel warmer inside than she did on her bum.

Draco watched her closely. She'd asked a question, but appeared to be pondering an answer of her own. "Would it matter if it was?" he asked softly. "I agreed to stop whenever you said to, remember. I won't do anything you're not ready for, love."

Hermione's lips quirked a little when he called her 'love' because she wasn't sure she minded that either. She bit her lip again and looked up at him. The intense look on his face and the hope she saw there made her feel bold. "No, I don't think so," she replied. His face suddenly shuttered and he looked down, giving her a curt nod. Hermione felt her heart drop into her stomach. "Draco?"

He was an idiot. She was untouched. She'd only been interested in reassuring herself that she didn't lack passion, and wanted to find out if some of the things she fantasized about being done to her would actually turn her on in truth. She'd not been looking for someone to show her just how passionate she could be in all ways. Draco threw up his Occulmency barriers as he dropped his eyes, trying to wrestle his arousal and growing possessiveness under control.

"What did I say?" she asked, alarmed at this shift in him and the way he'd closed himself off.

"It's fine, Hermione. I know I have no right to act possessive. I'll—" She cut him off by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

"Silly man," she drew back slightly. "I meant, no, I don't think it matters if it's some possessive, macho thing. I like when you look at me as if I'm precious," she confessed.

Draco's face lit up with a dazzling smile, which she promptly answered with one of her own. "That's because you are, Hermione." He didn't think he'd ever had a better hug. "It's because you are."

"We shall depart precisely on the half-hour. See that your things are brought down and that Kneazle of yours is properly caged," Lucius told his grandson.

"I'm ready, Grandfa. Mum and I went over my list yesterday. I ticked off everything. Everything except Horus, that is. He'll be in his carrier and downstairs on time. Promise. If I may be excused, I'll see to that now," Scorpius waited for approval before leaving the table.

"You're excused, Scorpius. Don't forget to thank the house-elves for helping with your things," Hermione reminded him. It would be lonely with her son away at Hogwarts.

"I won't forget, Mum," he set his napkin in its proper place and left the breakfast room.

Hermione returned her teacup to the table and looked at her father-in-law for a moment. "You don't need to come along, you know. I'm perfectly capable of seeing that Scorpius makes it onto the train."

"I never said you were incapable, Hermione. It is my place to see to your safety and that of my grandson. I will be joining you to see Scorpius off," Lucius pronounced.

"Harry will be there as well, Lucius," Hermione knew the man still doubted her capabilities given her parentage and he worried about Scorpius even though she knew it was unlikely he'd ever say so out loud. "We'll be perfectly safe."

"I am sure that is true. However, it does not relieve me of my responsibility as the head of the Malfoy family. I am going. That is final," Lucius did not like her attempt to put him off.

"No, it is not final. I don't need you hovering over us every time we leave the manor," she snapped. It was becoming ridiculous being escorted every time they stepped out in public. She stood and started to leave the room.

Lucius had not been unaware of her growing resentment to his continual presence and protective attitude. He was even willing to concede that he may have been overdoing it by a small measure. Hermione and Scorpius were all the family he had left. This, however, was different. "Did it not occur to you, Hermione, that I might actually wish to see my only grandson off to Hogwarts for his first year?" Lucius asked softly.

Hermione stopped and nodded. No, it hadn't occurred to her. She felt slightly guilty that it hadn't. She knew the value Malfoys put on family. "Right, then. We'll depart on the quarter-hour. I like to be early. See that you're ready," she said without turning around before continuing out of the room. If he wished to come along, he would need to follow her schedule.

Still at the dining table, Lucius suppressed a chuckle. He had purposefully mentioned a time later than he knew Hermione would like, thinking he could turn giving up fifteen minutes of his time into a bargaining chip. He had no idea mentioning his desire for seeing his grandson off would so easily change her stance. Leave it to the witch to simply accept the honesty of what he had said. Lucius made a mental note to remember that for the future. While he enjoyed games, coy maneuvers, and subtle negotiations, there was something fresh in adding an honest approach to his arsenal of machinations.

The post was brought in immediately as she had asked. "Thank you, Whimsy," she told the house-elf even as Lucius was waving the creature off. "It's from Scorpius."

"Yes, I assumed as much, my dear," Lucius was well aware that she had been anxious to hear from the boy.

She opened envelope and read. "He was sorted into—" Her face fell; she'd been hoping for Gryffindor.

"Slytherin, of course." Lucius smirked. No Malfoy man in history had ever been placed anywhere else. He rose and dropped a kiss to Hermione's head as he had often done with Narcissa when the two of them were alone. Both of them froze. Lucius recovered first. Straightening, he pretended nothing was amiss. "I shall write to him directly to tell him well done," he said as he left the breakfast room.

Lucius did not know why he felt compelled to set his book aside and don his dressing gown. Even so, he had learned long ago that it was best to follow such pulls in Malfoy Manor, for they often led him precisely where his home needed him to be. Following the pull, he heard a muffled cry of despair as he approached the portrait gallery.

Hermione was curled in on herself beneath Draco's portrait, one hand reached up to claw at the frame while the other hugged her knees in tight. He wanted to snap at her to return to her rooms and dress herself properly, for his son's shirt—as he assumed that was what she wore—did little to hide her attributes. Lucius wondered briefly how Narcissa might have looked similarly attired before chastising himself for the thought. The young woman was obviously grieving and needed help. He was considering calling one of the house-elves to take her to bed when his son's portrait caught sight of him. "Father. Thank gods. Hermione needs to be held. It's the only thing that settles her when she's like this."

Hermione shook her head and wailed. She wanted to be held, but she wanted it to be Draco. She missed her husband. She missed her son. She missed her parents. "Why did you go and leave me all alone?"

Painted expression or not, the look Draco shot him was one that demanded Lucius act. Steeling himself, he lowered himself to the floor beside his son's widow and drew her into his arms. "Shush now. Be strong," he told her.

Hermione pushed at him. She was strong, but she wasn't inhuman. She'd lost the love of her life and now all she had left was her son, and he was growing up and moving away from her. Everyone she loved was gone. Her heart was in pieces, and he was trying to tell her not to feel. She tried to get free, but he was so warm, just the way Draco had always been, and he smelled like him, unlike her husband's shirt that had the fresh smell of the laundry but not that special something extra. Before she knew it, Hermione was burrowing herself against him instead of fighting him off and crying herself to sleep.

"She is strong, stronger than anyone. She's simply heartbroken, Father. She comes to talk every night, but this is the first time she's broken down," Draco's portrait told him.

"Scorpius started at Hogwarts today," Lucius said simply. There was no need to explain further. It took some maneuvering on his part, and a well-applied Featherweight Charm, to rise to his feet without dropping her.

"You won't be able to get her to turn you loose. She rarely clings, but when she does—"

"It will not be a problem," Lucius told the portrait.

Lucius was halfway to his own rooms when he realized she was quartered in the other wing. He relaxed his grip slightly, intending to sit her down and escort her back, however she hung on and whimpered in her sleep. Ah, well. If she was this much in need of comfort, it was probably best he kept her with him. "You are a perplexing creature, Hermione," he whispered softly as he continued toward his own bed. In truth, he welcomed the closeness as much as she.

The man had gone too far this time. Her hair was crackling along with her temper as she looked up at the large empty space where Draco's portrait had been hanging just last night. Hermione stormed from the portrait gallery fully intending to hex her father-in-law bald.

First, she woke to find herself in Lucius' bed, which had been disconcerting, but hadn't tipped her over the edge. She had enough presence of mind to see that he'd still been in his dressing gown despite being in bed with her and there were wrinkles where she'd been fisting the fine cloth. Hermione didn't break down often, but the few times she did, she'd wrecked similar havoc on Draco's apparel. She was reasonable enough to admit that she didn't remember much more than leaving her rooms last night desperate to hear Draco's voice, even if it was only his portrait's.

Hermione had slipped from Lucius' bed—no small feat, considering the man hung on to her nearly as well as Draco always had—and made her way back to her own room where she'd asked for breakfast to be brought up rather than face Lucius before she was ready.

Well, she was certainly ready now.

"How dare you!" Hermione shrieked, as she banged open the door to Lucius' study.

It was only long practice of hiding his emotions that kept the surprise off Lucius' face. He had expected this when she woke. Now, only one hour and some minutes shy of supper, he was taken aback by her fury. Surely if she had been working herself into this state all day, she would have sought him out sooner. "I assure you, had you not taken hold with all the strength of a Permanent Sticking Charm, I would have—"

"I'm not talking about last night! I'm talking about Draco's portrait!" Hermione huffed a wild strand of hair out of her face.

"Oh, that," Lucius said waved it off, unconcerned. He had felt a rare, and very odd, pang of guilt this morning for not having seen to that sooner. "It is no matter. I should have seen to it before, however—"

"You foul, loathsome, despicable man," she snarled, stomping forward on each word. Hermione had every intention of leaving her handprint on his face for making sport of her misery much as she'd done in third year when his son had made sport of Hagrid's. She drew back her hand to bring it across Lucius Malfoy's smug, pointy face.

While Lucius rarely moved with speed, it was not because he was incapable of it. He stood and caught her wrist in an instant. "Do not ever raise your hand to me again, witch." He clenched his jaw and reminded himself that she was distraught. While that did not excuse her actions, it was a reason to keep his own response carefully in check. This was not Narcissa play-acting to set herself up prettily for an erotic punishment. This was his son's widow grieving. Although why she was upset about Draco's portrait was beyond him.

"You're a monster," she glared daggers at him. Hermione knew he'd be expecting her to struggle away from his grip on her wrist, so she did the unexpected and stomped on his foot.

Lucius released her and she turned only to have him fist her hair, stopping her flight. He winced as the tendrils of her hair crackled and stung him, however he held on. "Enough!" he roared. "You are going nowhere until you explain yourself." He could feel his temper rising. Lucius clamped his jaw tight and forced her head around his direction so he could look her in the eye. "Now, Hermione."

"That portrait was all I had left of him. You had no right to move it." She didn't care if it was his house, it was her home as well because of that ruddy contract, and he shouldn't have touched Draco's portrait without consulting her first.

"I was doing you a favor. You should not be sitting on the floor half-naked in the middle of the night crying over—"

"He was my husband!"

"Which is precisely why I thought you would appreciate having his portrait hanging in your rooms. I did not think given last night's exhibition that you would object. I can see that I was mistaken. I will have the house-elves return it to the portrait ga—" Hermione went deathly pale and Lucius released her hair in order to catch her, thinking she was about to faint dead away. Perhaps huddling on the cold floor as she had done last night had made her ill.

Hermione launched herself at him, this time her arms went around him in a hug that nearly knocked them both off their feet.

"You dear, dear man. Heavens! I'm so sorry. I thought you'd taken it away. I didn't know you had it moved closer. Oh, gods. Are you all right? I didn't hurt your foot, did I?" She hugged him again. "Thank you. Thank you, so much." Hermione turned him loose and dashed away, eager to get to the rooms she and Draco had shared to see where his portrait hung now.

Lucius was too stunned to realize she was moving until she was out the door. He had been on the verge of insisting she be punished for her childish actions, however her spontaneous demonstration of affection and gratitude had left him momentary speechless as well as currently perplexed. He could still feel the warmth of her body. Not only that, the hand that had been tangled in that impossible hair still tingled. Lucius harrumphed, "Hugs. Indeed."

"Lucius, please," Narcissa begged, she tried sucking in a lung full of air but her husband only pulled the strings of the corset tighter. She could scarcely draw a breath.

"Please what, my dear?" Lucius chuckled. "I know this is difficult for you. It is supposed to be, after all." She was spectacular. Pale, trembling, gasping for air, and every breath she took was controlled by him. The surge of power he felt went straight to his groin. Lucius clamped down on himself, forcing himself to remain in control. As erotic a sight as Narcissa was nude but for her corset, this was to be a punishment after all.

His rich voice sent shivers down her spine. Narcissa felt him tie off the laces and nearly collapsed in relief that her husband did not intend to make the corset any tighter. There was still the matter of her punishment and she was not sure how she would be able to bear it when every sob would be torture. "I am sorry, darling. I know I am not to—"

"Silence. I have already listened to your apology, Narcissa. You knew the consequences for your action and yet you decided to disobey. I intend to make certain that you are well and truly sorry." Lucius snapped the lead onto her collar. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. When she resisted, he fisted her hair and used it to push her down to her hands and knees. "You do not deserve the privilege of walking. You will crawl to the bench." Lucius picked up the paddle and used it to drive his witch across the room to the bench he kept for her spankings. She might say she was sorry, however she had yet to understand just how sorry she could be. "I will be the death of you, Narcissa."

"Thank you again, Lucius. Having Draco's portrait close means so much to me." Hermione had spent some time every night this week between her work and supper enjoying its new location. Tonight, the painted Draco made her laugh with outrageous poses, overdone character voices, and exaggerated mannerisms while he recited a passage from one of their favorite novels. Hermione's eyes were still sparkling with good humor. "Would you care for a game of chess later?" Hermione wanted to offer him something in return for his thoughtfulness. After searching for ideas and finding nothing meaningful, she finally hit upon one she thought might suit.

Lucius used his bite of fish to give himself a moment to think. Hermione had never offered herself up as an opponent in the past. If Scorpius had not mentioned besting his mother a time or two, or groused about how boring Muggle chess sets were, Lucius would have had no idea at all that Hermione knew the game. He wondered what the witch was about and what this game would cost him. "I understood you only play Muggle chess, Hermione?"

"Oh! Well, yes," she looked down at her plate as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Perhaps she should have thought of something else. "It's not that I can't play Wizard's chess. The rules are identical, you know. The differences are all in the pieces and the magic that embodies them with the ability to—" She was rambling and lecturing. She shouldn't ramble, and most people found it annoying when she lectured. Draco might have found it an amusing trait, but he was an exception. "That's no matter. I play Muggle chess and Wizard's chess. I prefer using Muggle pieces because it's less violent." Draco had bought a beautiful, hand-carved Muggle chess set after the first time she accepted his offer to play Wizard's chess. She'd spent the entire match alternating between her moves, covering her eyes, covering her ears, and generally wincing whenever one magical piece annihilated another. Hermione considered that Muggle chess set one of her greatest treasures.

"You are aware, are you not, that there is a charm that renders the pieces inert?" Lucius' wondered that Draco did not teach it to her. Narcissa had never enjoyed playing with an active Wizard's chess set either. She claimed the pieces were far too noisy and crude when cutting each other down.

"Yes, I'm aware of it." Now she was. Hermione hadn't known about it until after Scorpius began learning to play. She'd been surprised the first time she saw Draco use the charm to freeze the board at various points while he explained rules and strategy to his son. Draco had laughed at her surprise. He'd thought she'd known about it all along because she knew so many things. It was then that Hermione learned he'd bought the Muggle set to show her that he didn't mind playing Muggle games if she liked them, and it was also something beautiful he knew they could share for a lifetime. "I won't pretend that I'd wouldn't be grateful if you'd use it—if you would like to play, that is—but I'm not placing any conditions on my offer."

Lucius raised an eyebrow at that. He had thought for sure there would be some sort of quid pro quo involved. Perhaps she was attempting to throw him off until she was ready to ask for her favor. "In that case, I could hardly refuse your offer, my dear."

Hermione decided she should be completely truthful. "I should warn you," she started, then hesitated a moment when she thought he quickly hid a smug look behind his napkin, "I'm not as good as Scorpius. He routinely trounces me." Draco had nearly always won as well. He claimed she was too structured, relying on what she'd read about strategy rather than feeling it instinctively.

"Then I shall be prepared to win, Hermione." He saluted her with his wine glass. Lucius had known that already. Still, any adversary in the game was better than none, and he still had hopes that the witch would surprise him.

"Thank you for the game, Grandfa." Scorpius was disappointed to have lost.

"You were far too confident, Scorpius," Lucius told him. The boy needed a lesson. "What is more, you allowed me to see your overconfidence, which in turn allowed me to exploit it by showing you what you wished to see, while at the same time employing a strategy of my own."

"Know your opponent as you know yourself," Scorpius quoted one of his grandfather's favorite lines.

"That is correct. You allowed your wins at Hogwarts to give you the idea that you are invincible. Although there is nothing wrong with assuming you will win—you are a Malfoy, after all." Hermione snorted from her place on the settee, however Lucius chose to ignore her and continued, "It is never wise to underestimate your adversary."

"Yes, sir." Scorpius should have thought of that. "Would you like to play again?"

"Unless your mother wishes her turn." Lucius retrieved his rook.

"Mum never plays Wizard's chess," Scorpius replied, wondering if his grandfather was having memory problems.

"She humors me," Lucius chuckled. Hermione was far too rule bound to be a truly challenging adversary but she was a more than adequate player. He had learned over the past few months not to underestimate her. Lucius never knew when some strategy of his own would be something for which the woman had memorized a cunning counter maneuver. It was obscene the amount of knowledge she had crammed into her head. Lucius was beginning to think that her hair grew and bushed that way because, once escaping the confines of her skull, it refused to be crowded ever again.

"Yes, I do," Hermione chuckled herself and gave both of them a bright smile. She enjoyed playing against Lucius. He was a natural instructor—something she'd been surprised she'd never noticed before—with a flair for creative moves, much as Draco had been. Playing chess with Lucius made her miss Draco a little less. What had been one game, had become two, then a nightly ritual, often followed by the two of them reading quietly or simply talking. "I think for tonight, I'll skip my turn. It's far nicer to sit here and watch the two of you play. I'm sure you both appreciate having a strong player as an opponent." She grinned, having had an idea. "Tomorrow night, however, I demand the opportunity to trounce you both in Trivia Titans."

"Aw, Mum! You always win that one," Scorpius complained half-heartedly. He enjoyed the trivia game, but his mum knew almost all the answers except in the Quidditch category. His dad had always had that one sewn up.

"Very well, you shall have your chance to exhibit tomorrow, Hermione. Scorpius and I will not go down without a fight, however." Lucius had played that silly game with her a time or two thinking his willingness to humor her would keep her interested in playing chess with him. He had initially been astonished to find how much wizarding lore the Muggle-born witch knew. It was then Lucius had remembered Draco telling him from the start of his relationship with the witch that no one embraced magical knowledge more than Hermione. "I call green," Lucius slipped in, determined to have his favored color wheel on the morrow.

"No fair!" Scorpius cried.

"Of course not. Fair is for Hufflepuffs. Malfoys do not ignore an advantage." Lucius stated plainly. Then, seeing Hermione's face as she wound up for a rant on fair play, he took advantage of still having the floor to speak. "In other words, you snooze, you lose," Lucius repeated what Hermione had told him when he missed out on the green to her call the last time.

Hermione gaped at him before bursting out in a joyous laugh. Scorpius caught his grandfather's subtle approval of the sound and his smug satisfaction at having brought it on. It surprised him enough that Scorpius forgot his complaint about losing the chance to play green. His mum laughing like that again was better than all the Christmas presents he received combined, although he certainly wasn't giving up his new Nimbus 7800. Scorpius was a Malfoy after all; he was happy, not idiotic.
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Once a Malfoy, Always a Malfoy