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What If.....?	By : valkyrie136 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 4465 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I Do not own the rights to Pillow Book or to Harry Potter or anything in that universe nor do I not make any profits from it. J.K. Rowling does. Please support the author by reading her books.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
In the ensuing days, Hermione did not see Lucius.

Today, Prince Fura invited her and Charlie to the Red Terrace, a famous restaurant in the city, for drinks. The Red Terrace had recently acquired the most beautiful dancer in the entire city. The prince watched her with great delight. Then, sloshed after a few drinks, he had let spill the secret of the four pythons guarding the golden apple tree. But the prince’s speech, not unlikehis essays, had never been articulate. The secrets he spoke of were muddled and disorganized. Thanks to Charlie’s ability to succinctly summarize things, they were able to conclude that on the 15th of each month, the pythons left their pillars to absorb mystical essence from a naturally occurring miasma, and thus for a few hours, there would be no one to guard the magical tree.
Should they try their luck during this gap?
Opportunely, there was a full moon that very night, and there was no better time to act. One never knew, maybe the magical fruit would be hers tonight.
Listening to Hermione, Charlie was led to believe this year’s golden apple could also make a man successful in love. He gladly joined in. To begin, he connected an underground passage from beyond the city walls to the Blood Spring.
Playing the hero, he even volunteered to explore the path in advance. Hermione had felt a teeny tiny bit guilty before Charlie so heroically jumped down that pitch-black tunnel. After a long time, he did not come back. It would be ridiculous for General Charlie to be devoured bymystical-energy-sucking pythons. But he was ultimately one of the Twelve Originals who had committed many misdeeds in the past. What if God was punishing him this time... she stared into the bottomless abyss, squeezed her eyes, and jumped down as well.
Sky cavern. This meaningful term was used to signify that at the end of a dark cavern there was to be a blue sky. The passageway Charlie created for some reason became a three-legged intersection. Before she knew what to do, she fell to the bottom of one of these paths. Charlie said the tunnel he made connected to the Blood Spring. Once she exited the tunnel, it should lead straight the spring where she would be met with water instead of air. This was why Hermione had gone as far as to ask Prince Fura for a magical candle.
At this time, however, the cavern she fell into was an enormous space. Above her head were howling wind and storming cloud. Below was an endless green forest swaying in the blasting wind. She hugged herself close as she sat atop a canoy, which thankfully broke her fall. This wasn't the aquatic world Charlie had spoken of. Was she lost? Had Charlie, who had gone out to explore and hadn’t returned, also gotten lost? Bravo, he had made the secret passage himself and still got lost. What a genius. The Twelve Originals must be a more charitable place than common belief for Charlie to retain his poisition through all this time. But then again, the only qualification was blood purity so perhaps her standards were just simply too high.
Hermione hid herself among the verdure while massaging her bruised shoulder. A blood-colored moon hung low at the far end of the horizon. Such scenery was surely sinister. She had most likely fallen to a forbidden place. Charlie remained on her mind. While she was debating whether to look for him here or to turn back and look for him at the spring, a string of laughter suddenly reverberated at the end of the forest.
Curiosity got the best of her. So she slid a way down, pressed herself against the leaves, and looked out toward the sound of the laughter.
Coming into her sight at the end of the flower path was a black-robed
deity sitting with his back to her, his wand placed by his side...Lucius Malfoy? Who she had not seen for days? What was he doing here? With his eyes closed, he had seemed to be meditating.
As she was about to move in closer for a better look, a pair of smooth ivory arms snaked to his shoulders and slowly inched their way down around his waist. An alluring face emerged on his shoulder. Her ebony hair entwined with his silvery one, her smile as elegant as an orchid. “Your Grace, you only come once every year. Do you know how much I've missed you, or how agonizingly I've waited for you?”
Her honeyed words flitted to Hermioine’s ears. Sitting atop the tree bough, she lost her hold and carelessly fell to the ground. The girl's enticing eyes swept in her direction, and with her bare arms still encircling Lucius’s neck, she laughed: “Is there anyone in the world who’s as bad at romancing as you? How can you bring along another woman on a rendezvous with me? Aren't you afraid I'd be saddened...?”
It was quite breezy out here, why were his garments so thin...?
As she pondered this, a strong gust shook the forest and a flurry of petals came raining down. Within the flower rain, Lucius furrowed his brow toward Hermione and asked, “Why have you come here?”
The enchantress had audaciously pressed her face to Lucius now, and he was showing no intention of moving away
Before she could think up a reasonable response, the strange woman who had her hands around Lucius was still smiling from the corner of her eyes. She said to Hermione, “This young lady is different; she didn't run away from an intriguing scene. You want to stay around to witness my lovemaking to him?”
Hermione’s hands iched for her wand. It wasn’t clear if Lucius was in any trouble, but she felt she couldn’t leave without knowing for sure. Call it her fatal flaw. She thought for a moment and uttered a spell, but because she was still learning spells, she could only come up with a magical sword. She raised her head and returned the temptress's bright smile with one of her own. “Be my guest. I see no harm in standing around to watch.”
With her head rested on Lucius’s shoulder, the woman—who at this point Hermione was confident was not even human—her expression instantly changed. Her laughter ceased as she lowered her voice: “Have you seen through it?” She then sneered, “Very well. If you want to wade through this muddy water, I shall grant you your wish.” In an instant, she had leapt several paces back. A red damask sash shot forward - this was a move aimed for the vital neck area.
Only a moment ago, Hermione was still debating whether or not she should meddle in this affair. Now it seemed she had no choice, but it was unfortunate because she was beginning to recognize that this was a special situation.
Not until she inadvertently gazed up and saw turbulent clouds rolling in and the moon alternating from white to crimson did she suddenly perceive how unique the situation was.
There had to be strong opposing forces between these two for this strange phenomenon to occur. The intimacy was just an illusion, a game; there existed a hidden struggle between the two.
Vile spirits practiced vile sorceries. Among them, seduction was one of the most dreadful. The more beautiful a temptress was, the easier she could beguile her victims. It mattered not if one was a god or a demon. As long as there was worldly longing in one’s heart, it was easy to be entrapped.
Although Luciius had phenomenal skills, he did harbor feelings for Madeline. And among the many emotions, love was always first. It was difficult to guess what the consequences would be if the enchantress were to use her seduction power on him; Hermione’s presence here could only help in part.
Hermione never fought, and certainly not like this. Her movements weren’t graceful, and soon she began to regret her decision to stop and explore. It seemed this was turning into another game for the enchantress as Hermione’s goal was more about dodging the deadly red sash she was using as her weapon.
Lucius leaned on his palm as he watched Hermione flit about like a butterfly. This was the first time he saw her engaged in battle of any sorts that did not involve words or wit. He concluded that she was not very good at it. But her ability to at least stay alive this long said a great deal about her inherent strength; not many people could enter the Silent Mire and challenge the dark forces which lurked within. The enchantress in question was created from the poison he came to suppress. Although she was more powerful than your average enemy she still was not a problem for Lucius.
Hermione misread the situation when she thought that he might be needing assistance. She must have wondered if Lucius was at risk of falling prey to her seduction, but the closer the enchantress was to him, the easier it would be to kill her. Unexpectedly, felt rather touched by her small gesture. In his many years, he was used to being the one others came to when they needed something, but never did others think that the word ‘protect’ applied to him—he couldn’t recall a single instance in which another person stepped in hoping to be his shield.
This was a new experience for him.
He watched Hermione, unaware of how brightly his eyes gleamed, all the while she hoped that he would eventually see she was in dire need of assistance and step in. But every time she glanced over at him, he seemed comfortable to watch her from across the field. She thought she saw him mouth something, and it took her a minute to process what he had said. Oh yes, it was ‘Be careful!’
While avoiding the attacks of this enchantress, Hermione and her opponent slowly moved closer to Lucius. This was precisely what the evil woman wanted. She was merely toying with Hermione, and when they were close enough, she immediately tried to go for the kill and catch Lucius off guard. Unfortunately for Hermione, she had no idea that this entire time she was running in fear for her life, Lucius was watching just to see how far she would go to protect him.
Acting purely on instinct, Hermione attempted to dive between the attack and Lucius. As she did this, she wasn’t thinking of anything but protecting him. But the death she expected to come never arrived.
With lightning fast moves, Lucius came behind her and used magic to put distance between them and the enchantress. He rested his hands on Hermione’s waist, and she felt his lips brush against her ear as he said in a low voice, ‘Look closely….’
His movements were far too fast for her to understand; everything was a blur. But the enchantress still looked triumphant even as Lucius demolished her cleanly—and effortlessly.
Wind screeched loudly in the dense forest. Smoke started to rise from the monster’s feet - it was a sign of her impending death. Her spurned eyes dilated wide as she faced Lucius smirkingly. “I’ve always heard of Your Grace’s icy indifference and unmatched cruelty. I've long wanted to know if your heart is truly as empty as they say. Her cold eyes flickered a shrewd flash as if she had seen a laughable joke. “I didn't know Your Grace's weakness is a sea of Fuling flowers. How interesting, how interesting indeed! I wonder if what you keep in your heart is this flower sea, or a certain someone hidden inside it?” She continued to laugh as she turned to smoke.
The dissipating smoke gave way to a breezy moonlit sky. Hermione was getting suspicious. Only a second ago, Lucius was sitting like a wooden statue. How could he come in at that critical moment with such calm? Had he fooled her again? She silently admired her calm acceptance of this fact. She'd been fooled so many times she was growing accustomed to it.
Hermione casually turned around and cast a goodbye nod toward Lucius. Why did she stay just to be helpful when she knew she wasn't good enough? Now he was going to laugh at her again. Never mind, she'd be the bigger person this time and gift this act of honor to him for free.
As she stepped away under that breezy clear sky, Lucius asked her in his unhurried way, “Why have you come here?”
‘You really meant that question for me?’
The moon was beginning to hide behind the clouds in the sky. Lucius regarded her with an unwavering stare, ‘Do I look like I am talking to myself?’
Hermione tried to hide her surprise, ‘….well, I thought it was part of the play you were acting out with your lady friend.’
Lucius conjured up a sumptuous canopied to sit upon. He made himself comfortable and looked at her still, ‘Why do you think I was asking?’ Seeing she was confused, he then asked, ‘You still haven’t answered me. Why did you come here?’
His questions sparked memories in her chaotic mind. She was supposed to steal the golden apple tonight, but had become distracted because of him. She suddenly perspired at the thought of the amount of time she had lost. She replied him perfunctorily, “I just happened to be taking a walk. When I saw that you were bullied, I just happened to help you out again. Little did I know I was being fooled.” She picked up her pace and walked away, secretly hoping she had annoyed him with her suggestions.
Lucius’s voice unhurriedly carried on behind her: “You're leaving without taking me along?”
Hermione turned around. “Why should I take you along?”
Lucius didn't follow her. Instead, he leisurely remained on his divan. When he saw her turn around, he casually answered, “I'm injured. Can you leave me here and be at ease?”
“Yes,” Hermione nodded candidly. “Very much so,” she impetuously added when she saw Lucius’s raised brow. At this time, her forward-marching feet for some reason started to stumble backwards on their own. Before long, she was brought next to the divan where Lucius was leisurely lounging on. She held onto the bedframe in annoyance.
“You...”
“It seems you're not that at ease.” He said this without a single trace of remorse or emotion, as if this were perfectly natural behavior.
She reined her temper in with what rationality she still had left and softened her tone. “Pardon me for my ignorance. You seem so comfortable, I really can't see where exactly your royal body is injured.”
A soft breeze fluttered the sleeve of Lucius’s robe. There was indeed a long gash on his right arm where warm blood was now gushing from. It wasn't there a moment ago, perhaps it had been covered by the garment's dark hue. She was told Lucius had never bled since the day he graduated. It was a rarity to be able to see him bleed from an injury like this. She stepped closer to him and blurted this out in her excitement at witnessing such a sight.
Lucius raised a brow at her and let out a sigh. “Normally in thisnscenario, your first thought should be on how to stop my bleeding.”
With a frown, she finally said, ‘ I bet this injury is merely an eye-masking sorcery; do you think I'm stupid?”
Lucius gazed to his wound, then back at her. After a second, he softened his voice: “You are getting smarter these days. Except your teachers never taught you the most basic lesson in sorcery. Eye-masking magic involving blood can only fool mud—‘ he paused ‘…muggle borns unable to practice magic.; it cannot fool you.’
His words sort of made sense. She staggered back in momentary fright. “... Then, this wound is real?” She stepped forward again skeptically. Blood was indeed still dizzyingly gushing out. She promptly tore off a piece of her skirt to stop the flow.
After finishing, she turned to leave. When she followed the path in her memory to go back, however, she couldn't find the spot where she first fell to. Her acumen served her well in this time of need as she realized Lucius must’ve had something to do with this. She furiously turned back to look for him. Before she reached him, he had already said to her, “I forgot to tell you. After the enchantress perished this place will be sealed for six hours, I'm afraid you won't be able to leave.”
As Hermione stood bewildered, Lucius continued: “You have something important to attend to?”
Hermione replied miserably, “I have a previous engagement with Charles Martel...” As she was about to add 'to go to the Blood Spring and steal the fruit', she at once caught herself and said instead, “... for something.”
A moment ago, she had wondered whether she had been too nice to Lucius, but now her goodness proved to be a sort of luck. Instead of taking advantage of his affliction, she even helped bandage his injury. In only a couple of steps, she rushed to his side and held his injured arm up to show him the proof of her kindness, earnestly asking him,“Don't you think I've dressed your wound rather well? Don't you think you owe me one this time and that you should repay the favor?”
He fixed his gaze on her. “There's nothing special about this bandaging. How do you want me to repay you?”

She held onto his arm even tighter. “It's really simple. There's a life-and-death matter I must go to. This place can trap a wandless witch like me, but it certainly cannot keep someone as great as you. If you will help me get out of here, I'll forget both the times you left me in the Whispering Whitewood for six months and when you pretended to send me to the Carrows. What do you think?”
Lucius continued to gaze at her with his piercing eyes. “Why do I have a feeling that you hold an especially long grudge against me?”
How patient she could be sometimes in important situations. Even when Lucius's gaze was boring down on her like this, she felt no major perturbation. “How can that be?” she replied as sincerely as she could. Receiving no reaction from him, she paused then added: “It's because you're the only one who always aggravates me.”
“How about Charles Martel?” she heard him ask.
Charlie was pretty stupid, Hermione thought to herself. It'd be the world's biggest phenomenon since the creation of Heaven and Earth if he were to dare harass her. Nonetheless, Charlie was still an Original but more importantly, as friends, she shouldn't humiliate him. “Charlie? Er, Charlie's pretty nice,” she answered vaguely.
But that sort of vague answer had sounded half-hearted at best. When Lucius remained quiet and closed his eyes to rest, Hermione thought she had trailed off topic. She quickly returned to the matter at hand: “Let's place aside whether or not I hold a grudge for now. This attitude of yours, are you going to help me or not?”
Lucius remained close-eyed, his eyelashes casting a lush shadow. At long last, he retorted, “Why should I help you leave so you can go see Charles Martel?”
He was trying to pick a fight with her, she was sure. But she knew Lucius had always preferred malleability over rigidity. She suppressed her anxiety and replied ever so eloquently, “I helped you out because we are fellow sorcerers. Since I've helped you, you should help me back. That's the way of the honorable.”
If he was going to reply in his unreasonable way and say something such as: ‘I don't feel honorable today. I don't want to help you,’ or ‘Only a Gryfindor could be so narrow minded,’ she would so claw him for his trouble.
Unexpectedly, Lucius opened his eyes and fixed them on her awhile. Then he flatly told her, “I have no way of taking you out of here. It doesn't matter how urgent your date with Charles Martel is, you'll have to wait another six hours.”
Hermione’s head exploded. “Then I'll definitely miss our appointment?” She placed all her hopes on Lucius’s powers. She didn't think she'd really be stuck here and lose her time at stealing the golden apple. Lucius seemed sincere He said nothing more afterward.
Hermione sat stumped for a spell. When she gazed up, the starry sky no longer held any moonlight. The forest leaves rustled in the wind. If she lost her chances today, she'd have to one whole month from now. Hermione tiredly slid down from the low divan and slumped onto the ground. The bright starlit sky suddenly began to pour.
She started and jumped back onto the bed. Like a curtain of continuous pearl strands, heavy rain enveloped the thick forest. In this dark night, it had seemed as though a spiteful hand was pouring water straight from the above. Looking around, she wondered again if the forest before her was real or not.
The divan was the only dry shelter free from the rainfall. She had heard that when powerful evils were demolished, sometimes it was easy for the lingering foul energy in the air to gather again. It was thus necessary to wash every trace of foulness with rainwater for several hours. Only then can the extermination be completed. This rain, then, was likely summoned by Lucius.
Night rain always brought about sentimentality. The rain heightened Hermione’s own sadness. While Lucius seemed as though he was lying idly, she knew he was actually using the rainwater to wash away lingering foulness. This was why he had made a bed, to keep dry and to rest knowing he would be stuck for an amount of time. Lucius was always meticulous.
Hermione dolefully sat on the bed and accepted she had lost her chance due to this rain. She was so sure the fruit would be hers tonight, but somehow this had to happen. Fate was really inescapable. In any case, it was she who pulled Charlie along, was he going to fall for it again on the next full moon? It gave her a headache just thinking about this.
Hermione began to think up possible excuses so that Charlie wouldn’t be mad at her. She couldn't tell him the truth. He already hated Lucius so much, but instead of cursing Lucius a couple of times in his stead, she left him to rescue Lucius. This was akin to betraying their friendship. Arrh. Should she tell him she was lost in the weird forbidden land and was held captive by a monster for the entire night? This story was fairly sound, except if she was going to go with such pretext, she'd need t fabricate another lie about how she eventually escaped. This part was slightly more problematic.
Then unwittingly, she babbled out loud, “None of these excuses is going to work. Tricking is an art in itself, especially if I'm going to trick Charlie, who always picks flight over fight. Arrh.”
Lucius's eyes remained closed; he seemed to have no reaction, but the downpour became heavier all of a sudden. It hammered down on the forest like a frightening army. Hermione started and nudged over toward Lucius. She felt calmer when her feet reached Lucius's leg. At this time he suddenly spoke: “I didn't know you are this worried for Charles Martel.”
Lucius had a way of saying perplexing things. She knew his ambiguous speaking style, but shouldn't he in this instant at least say something like ‘Tricking people requires careful thoughts. It seems you should work harder at raising your intelligence’ or the likes? Momentarily not knowing what to say, Hermione for some reason blurted, “I'm worried Charlie won't help me steal the fruit on next month's full moon...” The moment her words left her mouth, her face turned pale as she hastened to correct herself: “Actually, what I mean...”
The rain softened considerably. Raindrops flowed down the clear wall of the force field. Behind the water cascade was a hazy image of Lucius leisurely lounging on the divan, his long silver hair spilled on the bed like yards of satiny silk. Hermione blankly watched Lucius’s reflection on the force field's wall. Stealing wasn't a proud exercise to begin with. On top of that, she was shouldering a reputation as a close friend of Harry Potter. . She opened her mouth wanting to say a couple of salvaging lines but her wit was failing her in the most diresituation. Finally, Lucius spoke first.
Was it her imagination, or was his voice was noticeably gentler? She shook her head, that couldn’t be right. “You're meeting Charles Martel tonight so you can steal the fruit?”
Hermione laughed nervously and shifted toward the back of the bed. “No, no, absolutely not. How can I do something as disgraceful as stealing? Haha, you heard wrong...”

Lucius clutched his head and sat up. Her hair braid was being fondled. Lucius's every move stirred theheartstrings inside her. She at once offered graciously: “It won't becomfortable leaning on me. Let me conjure up a cushion for you...” Her thoughtfulness was targeted wrongly. Lucius started to rub his temple
Hermione anxiously watched him again. “Something is coming back to me, did you say at next month's full moon...” Quickly understood, she promptly scooted over, held his head, and pressed it onto her lap. “Are you comfortable like this? Or should I lie down for you to rest on? Would you be more comfortable if I lie face up orface down?” Once he was comfortable with a position on her lap, he opened his eyes and said, “Are you more comfortable sitting or lying?”
Hermione imagined lying down for a second, if they were to lie down... “Sitting is more comfortable,” she swiftly said. Lucius closed his eyes again. “Then let's do that.”
Stuck this way, Hermione eventually began to fall asleep.
The thing about Hermione was that she was known to have a tendency to be a clingy sleeper. Several times her friends lamented having to share a bed whenever there was a sleepover because Hermione would latch onto them like a barnacle, or worse, she would toss and turn until she took up the whole bed.
At some point in the night, Hermione fell over, and this was precisely what began to happen. Lucius did not push her away. He watched her intently at first as she lay on her back, head turned slightly.
Honestly, he was not sure what to make of the attention he gave her, nor could he understand his behavior except that he had found her interesting before she ever fell into the forest, and that interest continued to grow.
Eventually, sleep overcame him, but when he awoke two hours later and found her slim body pressed up against his, her head resting on his chest, he could not bring himself to push her away. He couldn’t rationalize these actions. He could only think in that moment that he didn’t mind it, and that Hermione Granger seemed to be different among the many women he encountered up to this point. Since the Silent Mire was now sealed, he shifted his thoughts to returning her to her home.
It was early in the morning and the sun was not yet rising when he entered the place he knew she lived and found her bedroom. He deposited her on her bed, left briefly to wash up, but remembered that he had not placed her quilt on her so he returned, and froze.
Charles Martel was standing over her, and was reaching out to touch her. He reacted, and the other man immediately cried out sharply. Lucius felt something unpleasant begin to burn inside of him, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. He presumed that Martel merely irritated him; to say he liked him would be a lie.
The young man glared at him, and for the first time Lucius thought that Martel seemed to be rather attractive. It wasn’t any of his business, but he asked, ‘Are you two living together?’
The young man snapped, ‘Since we got here, what’s it to you?’
Lucius frowned and stared at Hermione’s sleeping body. ‘Is that so?’ So she and Martel were that close?
Interesting indeed.
Only much later would Lucius realize that not once in all of this did he once think about Hermione as ‘the mudblood’. When did this shift occur?
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