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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
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Bruises.

The first day being trapped inside the force field, Hermione practiced walking on the snow piles for hundreds of times under the soft sunlight and mild breeze. Initially, she was terrified and fell twice. But it wasn't very painful and she eventually calmed down. She fell more than a dozen times throughout the day. Her feet were covered in scrapes, her forehead in bumps. By sunset, Hermione, who was originally acrophobic, could walk normally on these snow columns.
Lucius had brewed some tea, sat outside the arena, and played chess by himself all day. On the second day, the weather improved greatly from the first. Snowy blasts were no longer as strong. He kept his words and blindfolded her. Then he threw her onto the arena to practice her footwork on the icy formation.
After stumbling around for a time, the ground abruptly started to shake. Thinking he had added new challenges, she swiftly leaned on a stake to keep her balance. Unexpectedly, one of the stakes from behind broke off, spinning her 'round. In a panic, she lost her footing as she tumbled onto the ground, her lips landing on something soft.
She fumbled around searchingly as she tried to lightly bite on it when suddenly she heard Lucius grunt in the dark. Startled, she snatched down the silk band on her eyes.
Lucius’s face appeared inches away from her face.
A row of sharp teeth marks lined his lower lip. Her face blanched white then flushed red.
She quietly slid off of his body and slinked back to the arena.
After several steps, Lucius’s voice called to her from behind: “Hermione, shouldn't you at least say sorry for biting me?”
“Sorry I've bitten you.”
“Are you truly sorry?”
She tripped and glared back in irritation. “What do I gain from lying to you?”
“What else can one hope to gain from lying?” He asked in genuine
perplexity. “Isn't it for your own gratification?”
“... fine, you win.”
On the third day under a warm breezy sky, Hermione had mastered how to traverse blindfolded on the snow columns as if she was walking on the ground after two days of hard practice.
She needed to practice today as if nothing existed. She expressed this idea to Lucius. He was very impressed and agreed to let her remove her silk blindfold. She took a few turns, feeling that things indeed went very smoothly.
He continued to play chess alone, but his countenance was different today. As she practiced, she glanced over in his direction from time to time. Once, twice, then thrice. By the fourth time she slipped and toppled off the ten- meter tall post.
That night, she reflected. She fell earlier in the day because she had been busy stealing glances at him. When he saw her, he first gazed back at her for a long time, but then determinedly turned his back against her. It was a very confusing matter. These thoughts were with her as she began to doze. She drifted into sleep soon after.
Unfortunately, this matter remained in her head, and she did not sleep very deeply. After midnight, she foggily heard footsteps approaching. Then there was the sound of opening doors followed by more footsteps coming toward her bed.
hermione tried opening her eyes but sleepiness weighed heavily on her eyelids like an enchantment. The room stilled for a moment. she felt as if she was in a dream. She was likely dreaming this up because she had wanted to sneak into his room before falling asleep. She snuggled the blanket tightly and continued sleeping. But in her foggy state, she could hear a series of soft sounds. Before her sleep could deepen, she inhaled a familiar and masculine scent.
Her mind which had been mostly foggy was now entirely numb. As her thoughts wandered in the night, the bed suddenly sank. Being quite old, it creaked squeaky noises. She sensed a cold palm resting on her forehead. When its fingers moved to the two bumps she had acquired during practice this morning, she felt a slight twinge of pain.
How could her dream be so real and detailed? She gritted her teeth, took in a deep breath, muttered something, and turned her back. That hand withdrew. A little later, a flowery scent overtook the soporific incense smell. She sneezed, muttered again, and turned. That hand was now spreading something paste-like onto the swellings on her forehead. It continued to gently caress her. It felt nice, like a beautiful dream, and she fell deeper into sleep.
Ah, it was the scent of cotton rosemallow paste. She knew it now! This paste could alleviate pain and treat bumps and scrapes. She knew this because once she taught Lucius how to make it when she was a student a long time ago.
Her arm was suddenly lifted. Her undergarment was rolled down to her shoulder. The coldness in her heart quickly spread to her fingertips.
Hermione shivered and her heart began to quicken. This dream was starting to feel too realistic.
Her muddled mind began to rouse after that shiver but she still could not lift or open her eyes. Despite her heavy eyelids, she managed to open a crack. The shadow that was becoming clearer in the crack of light did turn out to be Lucius. His head was slightly tilted and his hand was still on her shoulder.
His long silvery hair cascaded like moonlight onto the damask quilt. His hair was slightly tangled, giving his beautiful face a faint look of languidness; his serene eyes were looking at her under the glowing light.
This could not be real.
How remarkably realistic this dream was becoming.
Nevertheless, there should still be reasons inside of dreams.
She wanted to ask him why did he come by so late? Then she answered herself that it was probably to help her count her bruises from this morning. Then she wanted to ask him why must he come in the middle of the night? Then she answered herself again that the paste worked best when the patient was in a relaxed state. Then she wanted to ask him why did he need to take her clothes off, didn’t he care how it might make her feel?
Then she sighed and answered herself, he had never cared for such things. He would only say she was far too self-absorbed to think he gave her much thought, if she were to mention these things. He might even tease her by making her misunderstand even more.
She should be yelling in fear, then she should scramble into the corner, cover herself under the bed quilt, and look frightened and furious that she was being taken advantage of. She had thought of all of the above, but she would appear to have a very over active imagination like that.
Most importantly….she didn’t want him to know the truth about how much power he had over her thoughts and feelings.
One should never respond normally in dealing with Lucius. She must stay cool and unruffled. She lay still and let his hand remain on her swollen shoulder. “I'm awake,” she said woodenly.
In the candlelight, he looked at her awhile, withdrew his hand and whipped the paste from the porcelain bowl to apply on her shoulder. “Good, then take your shirt off. I can't reach your back.”
How could he keep his face straight while asking her to remove her clothes? Did he think she went to bed with her bra on? No, no she did not because it was uncomfortable. As a man experienced with matters of the bedroom, she assumed he would know these things. Or was he merely testing her, to see how far she would go?
Her choice? She at last pulled the bedcover all the way up to her chin, turned her back to him, and said, “I'm going back to sleep.”
As she turned, Lucius stopped her. He held her left shoulder where she wasn't bruised and lowered himself down. He was so close, she could feal his breath against the shell of her ear and see his silvery hair pooling on the pillow beside her, “Are you afraid I'd do something?” His voice hinted a glint of amusement.
Hermione turned around and saw that his face was only inches away from hers. A smile
dancing in his eyes, she could speak, and she wouldn’t be sure if her lips wouldn’t brush against his.
She stared out dazedly.
He nonchalantly looked at her from head to toe. “Not so long ago, I recall telling you that if I wanted to have my way with you, I would.’
She could feel heat burning her cheeks, remembering that day at the hot springs. It would have been impossible for him not to see her naked, but he hadn’t done anything.
Feeling daring, and more than a little insulted by him admitting directly to her face that he did not see her as a woman, she shoved him back and yanked her shirt off.
Hermione stared at him, a challenge in her eyes. Lucius allowed his gaze to slide down his body and his remained utterly unchanged, his voice flat, ‘I said I needed to see your back. Might you turn around?’
She turned and fell onto her belly, and felt she was turning red from head to toe. He would surely notice, but thankfully he didn’t say anything. She felt long, slender fingers gently rub the paste onto the small of her back, causing her to stiffen.
Needing to say something to fill the silence she muttered, ‘This situation would have been avoided if you had simply done this during the day.’
His fingers ran down her spine, and she almost arched her back, ‘I couldn’t interrupt your training. If I helped you earlier, you would have lost out on time.’
Like a child, she grumbled, “I didn't have one scratch prior to meeting you again. But look at all these injuries you're causing me now!”
His hand seemed to pause on her shoulder for longer than necessary. Dryly, he replied. “Without the protection of that bracelet I gave you, you'd have been smashed into pieces when you fell down here. You wouldn't still be here for me to torture.”
Hermione immediately retorted, “It was Charlie who helped me...” She suddenly stopped mid-sentence. She and Charlie fell twice from a cliff. Aside from the second time which they landed on the prince, everything indeed went very smoothly for them. She didn't know whether it was her luck or Charlie’s luck which had saved them. As it turned out, it was actually Lucius that had protected them? This discovery caused her to freeze.
. She bit her lip not knowing what to say. So he hadn't left her to rot. Not only that, but he had given her an extremely powerful magical object for her troubles. He had been kind, yet why didn't he say so sooner?
She sighed. Lucius always was the kind of person who only cared for the opinions of those that mattered. Like back when they were students, he hadn’t cared at all what everyone thought of him because they were less than. Similarily, was she no different?
She took a deep breath and carefully said, ‘tThank you. That bracelet has protected me all this
while, but it's not a good idea to leave such a precious item with me. I should still return it to you.”
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he explained, ‘That bracelet is an extension of my own energy. When I die, it will naturally dissolve, if it isn’t destroyed before then.’
She again was given another shock. To make such a thing was a forbidden act. Why? How many down-on-their-luck people would start selling their life to help rich people? It was considered to easy to take advantage of. Furthermore, if the object did break, it could actually harm, or even kill, the creator.
Suddenly dismayed, a chill took over her body and her throat went dry. She faltered,
She turned to face him“If that's the case...shouldn’t you really take it back? ”
Lucius seemed surprised by her question.
He asked her to sit up and suddenly she felt her shirt being pulled over her head. Then he replied, “If I want you to have, then it is yours to have. If I want to take it back, then I will take it back.’
He looked at her awhile and a smile surfaced in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t have given it to you if I thought you would be in any real danger.’
This smile mesmerized Hermione, who was already dizzy and light headed from the daring act of taking of her shirt in front of him.
Lucius was called Ice Face by Charlie (those whom he disliked were all called this way, Lucius was first on that list). Although there was some truth in this nickname, it wasn't used to imply his icy personality; it was rather used to imply his emotionless expression even while mocking others and his perpetually unsmiling face.
He was smiling often tonight. Whether it was only in his eyes or in his voice, it was enough to make her dazzled.
Still, she heard what he had just said very clearly. She weakly objected, “Why would I be worried?” while sighing in secret relief nevertheless at his words. She grinned at him, then after a moment of silence, she changed topics: “I don't see any new wound on your hand, why do you still carry cotton rosemallow paste with you?”
He was silent for a time at this question. Eventually, he said, “How do you know I'm often injured?”
She perspired. No one was supposed to know about his injuries besides his closest servants and his student so many years ago. Luckily, wit came to save her at the last minute. “Isn't cotton rosemallow used to treat injuries on hands?” She pretended to peek into the porcelain bowl in his hand. “Did you make this paste yourself? It's blended very well...”
He mixed the rest of the paste in the bowl and lowered his gaze to her, replying, “My memory is hazy, but I recall I had a classmate. It made this paste.”
She generously praised herself, “What a clever student she must have been.”
The paste is so smooth and fragrant... erm, but why are you spreading it on my face?”
He bent down, spread the rest of the paste onto her face, and casually replied, “Well, there's a bit left, and I heard this is also good skincare so we shouldn't waste it.”
Hermione broke free and picked up a bit of the paste from the porcelain container with her finger. She lunged at him and grinned. “Here, good things are to be shared, you should use some too...” She pushed Lucius down and used her other hand to spread the paste onto his forehead. His eyes were glimmering.
She knelt on him; with one hand she held his arm down underneath the bedcover
He didn't resist her harassment. And suddenly she was aware of how close there faces were, and of the fact that she now straddled him.
But With little concern, he only said to her, “Didn't you say good things are to be shared? Why did you stop?” He took her retreating hand and placed it on his own face, looking calmly into her eyes during this entire process.
Hermione felt her face burning. She clambered off him and scrambled into the corner. Hiding herself underneath the cover and lying on the porcelain pillow, she feigned a yawn: “I'm sleepy. Close the door for me when you leave.” For some reason, her voice was quivering.
Lucius seemed disappointed. “You're going to sleep without washing your hand?”
“... No need, I'll wash the quilt tomorrow.”
He sat up and stayed in the room awhile. A wind entered and blew the light out. There seemed to be an enchantment cloaking over the air. Nervously, she could feel his breath drawing closer. His hair was now grazing her cheeks, but there was no other movement. It had seemed he was only checking whether she was really sleepy or only pretending to be.
He slid his hand down her back and lowered himself to again softly say to her, ‘….I never said that my classmate was a girl.’
She was frozen, but he suddenly rose, and footsteps went further away in the dark. Only after she heard the door opened then closed did she heave in relief. She turned and opened her eyes to survey the room.
It didn’t matter if she had a slip of the tongue. He didn’t seem to react. Perhaps he did remember her after all, or some impression. It didn’t seem like he was confronting her.
Still…he was acting strangely.
Her heart pounded rapidly as she thought about what had just happened. She reached a hand out to calm her chest and recalled they were still covered in flower paste. As she glimpsed down on them she saw that her hands were now clean with no traces of stain. He must have wiped them away before leaving.
Feeling happy, her lips slightly curved up; she hadn't known she was smiling. Then she closed her eyes,
Early the next morning, her sleeve was shaken vigorously. She turned and muttered sleepily, “Lucius, don't bother me when it's so late. Let me...” The word 'sleep' hadn't left her mouth when it died out in the shocked eyes of Charlie who was bending over her bed.
Venus shone high in the sky. “You and Ice Face have... progressed to this point?” He clapped, and then embraced her tightly “I really haven't underestimated him.” Then he said to her happily, “Madeline should give up on him. I knew he's not as faithful as I am. He couldn't handle your seduction scheme.” Now scratching his head excitedly, he asked, “How should I comfort Madeline so she would run into my arms with no hesitation?”
Illuminating the room was a single candle. Hermione saw Charlie lean against the bed looking to the moon. He was happy, then pensive, then worried. Confused, she didn't know what was going on. She rubbed her eyes, pinched him and asked, “Does that hurt?”
Jumping back, he cried, “Don't pinch me, you're not dreaming! I broke open Ice Face's force field to take you to console our friend.”
After three days confined at home, the chance to slip out and escape filled her with excitement. She actually leaned forward and gave Charlie a hug in return causing him to blush.
Finally remembering what he had come here for, he told her in a solemn tone, “Do you know what happened to Prince Fura?’ As he went on to explain what happened to poor Prince Fura and apparently his pet, which had passed away, she thought she glimpsed someone standing at the door, but they were gone before she could even make sense of it….
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