A Muddy Secret

Lovely Reviewers:

Avanell - I love the relationship too.

Lily - I shall, if and only if, you keep reading.

Mrs_Helene_Snape - Lucius will do what is best for Lucius in my interpretation. One of my good friends is German, that's how I knew the word. I love the song!

meankitty69 - Glad it was good. More has arrived.

HermioneMalfoyFan - Lucius will be okay...in some kind of way.

Utopia - WHY do Brits get cute accents? It's not fair!

Your version of Snape sounds rather dreamy! But all yours!

Ain't you ever read "Jane Eyre?" The nobility ain't always the nicest folks. They know better. However, knowing and behaving in the proper way are two deeply different things. Blanche Ingram (and her sycophantic friends) in fact are downright nasty to Jane for no reason other than her being working class!

Hermione is helping our dear Lucius to see the error of his ways. He may or may not be able to behave better in the future. Grovelling is always good coming from a man.

Probably was the last time he was hugged, and he was younger than Harry when his mum died.

Psychologically analyzing literary characters is fun. I'm such a loser. *nervous laugh*

Heidi191976 - Who knows? Wait! "PICK ME! PICK ME! I know, Prof."

Linneh - I was concerned about that. I went back and forth on those bits. I think it could have been helped if it was in third person. Do you have a suggestion of how I could improve it? Well, waiting expires generally after 24 hours for this fic.

Apple - Who knows? Wait! "PICK ME! PICK ME! I know, Prof."

Anon - I had a similar experience with Kraft macaroni and cheese. So I feel your pain.

LadyVoldemort87 - Your Voldie isn't mean. He's just high-spirited, isn't he? It is Hermione and the note both that sent him over. Don't believe him about not hurting Lucius! He lies like a dog. Remember book 7. Updates are generally fast, but you know that. I've almost given up on the list of things to have them do. The sequel, I'm less certain of having updates quickly delivered.

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As promised, a far longer chapter.

With no further commments from me at this moment, I present Chapter X.

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When Lucius’ sobs finally quieted to mere whimpers, Hermione pulled back from him just enough to brush her hands over his face.

“I’m scared.”

“It’s okay, Lucius.”

“Please tell me why you are so angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you, Lucius. I was hurt by a word you used that I saw used to hurt in my past. I was disappointed that you would use it. I felt betrayed by you,” Hermione whispered as she slid her hands down to rest on the inside of his elbows.

“What word? I’ll obliviate it from my memory.”

“Mudblood.”

As Hermione spoke to him, she touched a hand to the spot on his lip that he’d bitten when he tripped. She remembered the mud and blood mixing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Lucius, I am not the one that needs an apology for that action,” Hermione said, easing back from him.

“Are you suggesting—” he asked, rising up.

“Not suggesting, stating,” Hermione said, looking up into his eyes unblinkingly. They were wide and his jaw was dropped a bit at the idea of apologizing to anyone, let alone someone who was not a pureblood at the very least. “I was hurt by the word, and it wasn’t said to me. Imagine how the girl you called it felt.”

“I—”

“Lucius, do you think that she was hurt a fraction as much as you have been these past few weeks?”

“Probably, I was angry that she tripped me.”

“You need to apologize to her.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I won’t make you. It's pointless to say it if you don’t mean it.”

“Why?”

“I really think that you will feel better if you apologize.”

“I doubt it,” Lucius said, shaking his head a little and wiping his red eyes.

Hermione backed away from him. He smelled as if he hadn't had a good bath for a day or two.

“Come with me,” Hermione said, taking both of his hands in hers.

Together they walked up to the fifth floor to the fourth door on the left past the statue of Boris the Bewildered.

She said the password and opened the door pulling Lucius in and bolting it behind them.

“You are going to take a bath, Lucius Malfoy,” Hermione told him as she walked over to a spigot that would fill the pool sized tub with sandalwood scented bubbles.

“Are you joining me?” Lucius asked, and he allowed his eyes to soak in the sight of Hermione drawing a bath for him on her hands and knees.

He stared at the smooth thighs and wished to run his hands up them to their apex. He bit his lower lip. He imagined Hermione under him while he pinned her in his bed with her legs bent up and spread apart so he could lie between them. Imagined her keening cries as he slipped one then two fingers within her tight cavern to stretch her. Imagined her grasping his wrist to make sure he didn’t stop. Imagined taking a nipple in his mouth while his other hand cupped a breast. Imagined her tugging at his clothes and begging to touch his skin. Imagined her hands undoing the buttons and zipper of his trousers to slide inside and work him. Imagined…

Lucius had a dazed smile on his face as he moved awkwardly toward her. His pants were oppressing him, and he tried to quell his wayward, hormone-driven body into submission.

Hermione turned and glared at him.

“Certainly—”

Lucius stared at the water for a moment. Why wait for the bed when a lovely pool would work just as well? He felt his breath quicken and had to calm his body to keep from launching himself at her. It wouldn’t do any good to come in his boxers before they started. It wouldn’t be encouraging to her.

Hermione smiled before frowning as she finished, “not.”

Lucius smile turned upside down. He gaped at her opening and closing his mouth like a dying fish.

“I thought it was a good idea,” he mumbled. “Got my hopes up.”

“I am going to go and get you clean, pressed robes,” Hermione informed him as he pulled off his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Take my wand. You’ll need it to summon anything from my room.”

Hermione took the elm wand in her hand and left the bathroom. She collected what she needed returning quickly bringing her own hair brush given to her by Dumbledore. With his hair in such a mess, he might have ended up half bald with a regular brush. She summoned his clothes from his room with Lucius wand.

On her way back up to the fifth floor, she saw a small form lurking by a suit of armor on the second floor. She stopped tucking Lucius’ clothes under her arm and walked closer to the form which she determined to be a boy with a Gryffindor patch on his cloak. He had three long scars across his face that looked like claw marks. He was pale and panting rather heavily.

“Are you alright?” she asked, squatting down next to him.

He looked up at her.

Hermione gasped at the look of the hunted in them. She reached a hand toward him and gasped when his forehead was hot as the many cauldrons Neville Longbottom had melted. She touched his hair to find it soaked with perspiration.

“Help,” he managed to get out in a whisper.

“Remus. Remus Lupin?” Hermione questioned.

The little boy managed a barely perceptible nod of the head.

Realizing what was happening as she stared out at the setting sun, Hermione levitated him up and ran toward the hospital wing. She burst through the double doors of the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey looked up at her in annoyance until she saw who was with her.

“Lay him on the bed.”

Hermione laid him on the bed and leaned over him looking at his frightened bloodshot eyes. His mouth was open and he gasped for breath. Hermione could see the more pointed look of the canines.

“Remus, can you hear me?”

The boy turned his pale face to her. He nodded.

“It won’t always be so bad. I promise that someday you will know a far less maddening time of month. A wizard named Damocles will have a suitable answer. Not a cure, but something to help.”

Remus managed to give her a weak smile.

"You need to leave so I can care for the patient."

Hermione left the room with only a brief glance back at the poor boy and made her way to the fifth floor trying not to think about poor Remus. She went into the prefects’ bathroom and promptly let out a squawk and turned around as the blood rushed to her face. Laughter greeted her ears followed by a splash.

“Didn’t like the view, Hermione,” Lucius asked with a small laugh still present in his voice before he turned serious as he thought of what would occur that night, in just a few short hours.

“It was a little bit more than I was expecting.”

“I would hope it was more than a little bit,” Lucius said with a smirk.

“LUCIUS MALFOY!” she shouted as she heard water dripping and feet slapping the marble floor. The rustle of towels being lifted and unfolded floated through the air.

“I’m covered now, Hermione,” Lucius said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I’m not embarrassed. I was startled.”

“Do you always turn the color of phoenix plummage when ‘startled?’” he asked, reaching out and lightly touching her shoulder.

“Here are your clothes,” Hermione said, not turning to face him and holding his clothes out to the side.

Lucius bit his lip to hold back a grin as she remained red and wouldn’t look at him. It wasn’t her stubborn nature now; it was bashfulness.

“Am I that revolting naked?”

“Not at all,” Hermione said before mumbling. “Gorgeous is more like it.”

Lucius smirked but decided it would be better not to mention that he’d heard the last part.

“I’ll grab your dirty clothes,” Hermione said, stooping and gathering them up.

She reached for a piece of parchment that had fallen out of one of the pockets.

“I got it,” Lucius said racing forward and grabbing it.

“What is it? I saw you get it in the library.”

“You were watching me?” Lucius asked. “I thought I had drifted from the true north of your point me spell. To be honest, I was beginning to believe that I was to the south of you.”

“You’d be amazed by how aware I’ve been of your presence, just not acknowledging it.”

“I’m beginning to wonder. You must like me a great deal. Not that I blame you. I am a catch, and no witch should throw back.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Rich, sexy, and smart. I’ve heard you tout your own wonders.”

“Do you agree?”

“Yes, but you would be more attractive if you were less aware of it.”

“But then I could hardly claim to be Lucius Malfoy, could I?”

“I suppose not,” Hermione said, tilting her head in acknowledgement as she sat down holding the charmed hairbrush.

She could expect no more and no less of him than being Lucius Malfoy. She had no right to ask him to change. Hermione thought, and she looked down as she realized that she felt something for this boy and was a bit frightened at the thought of what would happen with the adult version when she returned. Though she wasn’t wholly sure what it was that she felt.

“Sit down, Ma-Lucius,” Hermione said, patting the area on the bench next to her.

Lucius sat and turned his back to her. The brush moved through his hair straightening and detangling the blonde hair as if it had been brushed not five minutes prior.

“Do you like me, Hermione?”

“I don’t like everything that you say.”

“That’s not an answer,” Lucius said about halfway between drawling and whinging.

“It’s the closest that you will get to a real answer though.”

Hermione brushed his hair a few more strokes before tying it back with a green silk ribbon.

“What was in the note?” she asked as they left the bathroom.

Lucius looked at the various paintings around them as they descended toward the dungeons.

“Just something that my father wants.”

“What?”

“Just something I have to do tonight.”

Hermione cocked her head as they walked by the painting of Argyllshire on the second floor.

“Do you forgive me for being so cruel to you?” she asked.

“I could forgive you for anything.”

Hermione flushed and looked at the ground. A forgiving Slytherin. Who would have thought? And forgiving to her, but he didn’t know what she was.

They walked into the great hall together. Everyone but the Slytherin table watched them in silence until they were seated quietly whispering. The rest of the hall soon resumed eating and conversing with those around them when the shock of Lucius’ restored looks had worn off.

“Hermione, I know we just became friends again, but I need to ask you a favor. It may sound strange,” Lucius said, glancing up at the professors’ table to make sure they weren’t being watched.

“What do you need?”

Lucius stared down into the glass of pumpkin juice in his hand. It was mostly empty.

“I must do something tonight. I must leave the grounds to do it. Will you wait for me?”

“Wait for you?”

“Wait up in the common room for me?” Lucius clarified chancing a glance in her face.

If he could have know he had someone to return to, someone who cared.

“Of course, I will,” Hermione said, frowning and feeling her brow crinkle. “But what do you have to do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lucius said, not able to look at her and wanting to curl in on himself. “I’m not—”

But he stopped before completing the thoughts aloud as he stood.

“I have to go now,” he said, and he looked around as a boggart does for the target wizard trying to remove it from its dark home.

Hermione stood as well.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” she said.

Lucius offered his arm to her which she took as they left the hall and walked to the large oak doors throwing them open.

“If I don’t co—” Lucius began stuttering. “I’m—I-I might come in late. I apologize if I am.”

Hermione felt a whoosh of cold air and looked about feeling a sickness invading her stomach.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Hermione said.

Lucius looked about before pulling her out the door and shutting it behind them. He drew her close to him in the cold night air to shield her from the cold with his body.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pressing his nose into her hair.

Hermione engulfed him in her arms.

"I love you," she whispered.

He pulled back and looked down at her sliding a hand along her chin and up to cup her cheek. He did not lean in closer to her. He just held her.

Hermione, feeling a fear for Lucius that she could not fathom, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into her face.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” she whispered in his ear before trying to kiss his cheek.

Lucius turned his face to her and their lips met. He moved his gently against hers, and Hermione felt a drop of liquid brush the side of her face.

“I have to go,” he whispered, stepping back from her.

Hermione nodded hating the sinking feeling in her gut.

Lucius reached into his pocket and removed the note his father had sent him. He felt the tugging behind his navel and Hermione was gone from sight.

Hermione stared at where he had been standing seconds earlier for just a moment longer before looking up. A single blue star twinkled at her; the brightness of the moon washed out the others.

“Starlight, Star-bright,” she whispered the children’s verse in her head. “I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”

Hermione made a wish and walked back into the castle pulling the door closed behind her. She went to the Slytherin common room and sat in a black leather armchair by the fire with a book on her lap to wait.

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Hope that this chapter was good. Drop a review.

As a small note, Rather frightened to mention this part. But I have two ideas for the sequel, and I am not sure which would be better. So the sequel might be a while in coming. *flinches* Don't be angry!

I shall leave you with these words of wisdom.

"So why do witches burn?"
-Silence-
"Cause they're made of wood."
"Good, So how can we tell if she's made of wood?"
"Build a bridge out of her!"
-Compliments of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail"

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