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Catch and Release	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 19606 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his universe aren't mine and I'm not making any profit from the writing of this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Author�s Note: Thanks everyone for the positive reaction to
this story.� I�m having fun writing it �
which is good, since writing seems to be the only leisure activity I�m capable
of lately, what with being sick and friends who cancel plans at the last minute
(argh!).� I
feel like an old woman.� I haven�t been
out since my birthday (Dec. 27).� I need
a social life!� But in the meantime, I
have my writing and it will keep me entertained�

Some responses�I�m not quite sure where the dividing line
was for Chapter 1 versus Chapter 2, so there may be one or two extras in there.

VoraciousReader: Yeah, I think the
loss of that Library is one of the dumbest things to ever happen in human
history.� If there were really witches
and wizards it made sense to me that they would have saved the library from
meddling Muggles and their squabbles.� Plus, I thought it was a great place for Lucius and Hermione to have their first meeting.

Michelle: Yes, Lucius can be
rather brazen when it suits him, hehe.� I haven�t decided if either of them will
return to Alexandria
yet, but it�s possible.

Nuts About Harry: Oh noes, is the summary bad?�
I tried to make it so that it didn�t give too much away, but it may be
too obscure and not intriguing enough.�
I�ll tinker with it.� Thanks for
giving the story a chance and I�m glad you�re enjoying it!

Heidi191976: Thanks!

Nerys: Thank you.� It seems to me like it would be a hard
adjustment to go from living constantly among other magical folk (even in
Azkaban) to those without any magic at all.�
The renewal thing is just a spin on the rather loosely defined concept
of magic in the series.� I was thinking
about it; in spite of the fact that HP revolves around magic, we don�t actually
get told much about the magic itself.� I
guess that wasn�t really the point, but I�m just taking the opportunity to fill
in some holes.

Chthonia: Hermione is no fun,
sometimes, and Lucius won�t be the only one to point
that out to her in this story.� No, Lucius is not really a merman.� You�re correct in that what the Muggles are seeing is Lucius
emerging from the water after his transformation (or having to change back into
a human because he was in danger of being eaten by a larger fish! LoL).� Don�t be too hard on him; he didn�t know
about muggle camera technology.� Once he did (and got the inkling that he was
being seen a bit too often), he was more careful.� That�s why there was no sign of him in the Muggle tabloids Hermione was scouring for several
months.� As for the magical suppression,
if you think about it, he is using
magic for his transformation, but that�s about it.� I think it is a combination of both; that is,
not using magic himself, and not being around anyone else who uses it.� It will be explained more later.� And you say that you�ll be envisioning Lucius emerging naked from the sea like that�s a bad
thing!!!� Hehe.

T Stevenson: You�ll find out more about the need for magic
in the next few chapters.� I enjoyed
having Hermione read tabloids, too, because you know she never would if not for
the need to track Lucius!� She�s very well informed on the gossip in
many countries now!� Their meeting at Alexandria was purely
chance.� Though, any further meetings
between them will be anything but.

Celesumi: Hermione only doubts his
intelligence because of who/what he chose to follow in the past.� Other than that, she knows he�s a smart man.

Lady Disdain: Thank you!

LaBibliographe: No, Lucius isn�t a merman, but bear in mind that Hermione still
hasn�t figured out that he�s not.� I�m
not quite sure what you�re referring to in regards to Lucius
being slow to change into his animagus form�he can do
it as quickly as Sirius did.� And yes, hehe, it�s from the bottom up�fish head on Lucius body would be quite amusing, though.� Maybe, just for you, I can have him figure
out how to stop it half way and be half man, half fish�aka
merman.� We�ll see.� I agree that �pureblooded� family lines are
almost surely compromised at some point, especially if they are as old as the Malfoys�.� Lucius�s thoughts on evolution were basically his final
capitulation to change.� There is a
reason that Lucius gets itchy out of water for too
long, and it goes hand in hand with the idea of magical suppression � consider
what I said to Chthonia above.� As for Sirius, I don�t know; he�s never been
my favorite character and only served as motivation for Lucius.� Yes, Hermione needs to get laid!� No, you never mentioned that you met your
hubby in a library � so cute (and perfect)!!!�
(and yes, Egyptology is one of my geeky
interests)�

<>

�Post, Hermione,� Padma said around a yawn and dropped a small stack on her
desk.�

�Ugh.�

�What�s the matter?�

�It�s about the right time for a
letter from Ron.�

Padma
pointed her wand at the fireplace and lit it.�
�Save yourself the bother.�

�I know.�� She really should have, but silly her, she
read it every time.� She flipped through
the pieces of mail, noting what came from whom by the handwriting, and just
before she came to the last envelope (which by process of elimination had to be
from Ron), there was a postcard.

She frowned.� It was from Casablanca, Morocco.� As far as she knew, she didn�t have any
friends who were currently visiting Casablanca.� Who would send this to her?

Hermione turned it over.� Only one sentence was written on it.

Did
you find what you were looking for?

It could only be�

Him.� Lucius Malfoy was in Casablanca
and for whatever reason, he was daring her to find
him.� Her eyes narrowed.� The challenge was issued and she was most
certainly going to answer.

�I�ve got to go.�

Upon her partner�s hasty departure,
Padma threw the unopened letter from Hermione�s
ex-husband into the flames.

She wasn�t entirely sure why she
hadn�t told anyone she was in contact with Lucius Malfoy.� Perhaps
because she wanted the satisfaction of outsmarting him�or perhaps because she
wasn�t certain that she could, and wished to spare herself the embarrassment of
publicly failing.� At times she was too
honest with herself.

Casablanca was an interesting place.� She wished that she could stop and really
experience it, but she was on a mission.�
After hours of fruitless searching in the city, her logic kicked in; he
would be near water.� Every other
sighting had taken place there, so it was only logical that this time would be
the same.

Sure enough, after a thorough search
of the port, she found him.� He was on a
low dock, one foot dangling in the water.�
Lucius was the picture of leisure, his body
relaxed and his hair sloppily gathered into a plait that hung down his back.

She stared at him, aware that he
already knew she was there.� She couldn�t
figure him out.

�Did you enjoy the library?� he
spoke up conversationally.

�What kind of game are you
playing?� Hermione asked.

�Game?�� He twisted to meet her eyes.� His were mischievous.� �It�s called life.� You should try it sometime.�� Lucius looked her
over.� �But you seem to be content to sit
in the Ministry and molder.�

She sighed in annoyance.� �I�ll ask you again, what�s your game?� I don�t intend to play along.�

He ignored the question.� �They used to say you were the brightest
witch of your age.� Why the
Ministry?� In my experience, the Ministry
is for dullards.�

�That�s because your only
experience with the Ministry involved people you could bribe!�

He smirked, but didn�t deny
it.� Hermione funneled her irritation
into determination and pointed her wand at him.

�I�m going to arrest you.�

�Afraid not.�� He dipped his head in a slight bow and then,
in a movement so quick and lithe that she barely saw it, he pushed off the dock
like a swimmer.� He arced into the water
with hardly a splash.�

Hermione ran to the end of the dock
with a hex ready on her lips.� She could
see his body cutting below the water and she fired a spell.� She should have known better.� Water always changed the trajectory of
whatever was fired into it, so she missed.

No blond head ever surfaced.� He disappeared again.

She went back to the office the
next day in a surly mood.� It became even
surlier when she saw that her stack of mail was not as she�d left it.� The letter from Ron was gone.

�Padma,
did you throw away my letter?�

Padma
crossed her arms over her chest.� �Yes.�

Hermione closed her eyes and
reached for control.� She knew Padma meant well � she always did, and she had become a
very close friend � but she had no right.

�It wasn�t your place to do that,�
she responded in a measured voice.

�Maybe not, but I can�t stand to
see you when you read those letters.�
Don�t you know he�s manipulating you?�

�He is not.� He�s��

�He�s what?�

�He�s just seen the error of his
ways.� He wants me back.�

Padma rolled
her dark eyes.� �No, Hermione, what he
wants is a mistress.� He�s not going to
leave Lavender for you.�

�Padma, I
would never--�

�I never understood what you saw in
him anyway.� He�s a hotheaded idiot.� He never treated you right.� You aren�t that kind of woman who would just
sit there and take it, yet you put up with his bullshit.� If he really cared for you, he would never
have cheated on you and dumped you for Lavender, nor would he have somehow managed to convince you that it was your fault.�

�I don�t think that it�s my fault!�

�Then why cling to his
letters?� Why spend all your time
here?� You�re a star employee, but you
have no life, Hermione.� I invite you out
all the time and you never come.� Three
separate men have had crushes on you in the last few years and you ignore
them.� You�ve put yourself in this little
bubble.� Harry, Luna, and I are the only
ones you let in.� Aren�t you tired of
it?�

Hermione started at her office mate
of eight years, dumbfounded.� Then she
stood, picked up her robe, and went home.

She expected that she would cry,
but no tears were forthcoming.� She was
in a dazed sort of shock.� Padma had bluntly summarized her entire existence and she
couldn�t muster any anger at the other woman; all she had done was tell the
truth.

Sometimes she was too honest with
herself, and sometimes not honest enough.

It really did bother him.� As he roamed the world, he couldn�t escape
the question of why Hermione Granger, reputed to be one of the smartest witches
in Europe, was wasting her time in some
inconsequential department of the Ministry.�
Even Harry Potter had made something more impressive of himself and he
was lucky if he possessed half the brains she did.

He hated when talent was
wasted.� It was a curse of the Slytherin mind to always see the possibilities in someone
or something � the promise of what one could be, rather than what they
were.� That was why his own son had
irritated the hell out of him on many occasions; he was so smart, so capable, but he had no drive.� Many mistakes had been made in Draco�s upbringing but none of them could account for his
lack of ambition.� Ms. Granger wasn�t
much different.� She fairly overflowed
with possibility�and used none of it.

He wanted to provoke her into
reverting to that fearsome little witch he�d seen in the past, the witch who,
at 17, had outsmarted, outfought, and outdone the Dark Lord.� He didn�t give Potter an ounce of credit for
that.� All he had done was act as the
vessel, the means for Voldemort�s destruction.� The greater portion of the strategy behind it
had come first from Dumbledore and second from the young Muggleborn
who, for reasons unknown, was content to play second fiddle to a pair of dolts.

It vexed him.� That, he reasoned, was why he bought a
generic postcard in a market in Tripoli
and sent it to her.�

She never came.� He felt curiously insulted and bought another
postcard in the next place.� Lucius thought for a long time on what to write.� Taunts, insults, questions, and sarcastic
comments abounded in his brain.� In the
end, he settled for five words.

Hermione got her own post now.� Things had been cordial with Padma, if a little tense, but she didn�t trust her to get
the mail.� For some reason, she just
couldn�t let go of the little bits of correspondence Ron sent her.

There was a letter today.� Taking a deep breath, she opened it while
locked in a stall in the loo.

Dear Hermione,

I miss you so
much.� I miss the way your hair smells,
the way you hum in the shower, the shape of your lips, and the sound of your laugh.� I made a stupid mistake and now all I want to
do is make it up to you.� Please give me
another chance.� I love you.

Ron

�� With a
shaky breath, she stuffed the letter and the rest of her post into her bag.

�� She thought
about the letter all day.� At first it
had been in the dreamy, melancholy way that words like his could provoke.� Then, as the fog in her head cleared, she
began to analyze the short sentences more critically.

�� Ron had
never once complimented her on the way her hair smelled.� She would remember something like that.� More frequently, he had complained about why
she couldn�t put more effort into controlling it.� She saw nothing wrong with her curls, as long
as they weren�t exploding with frizz.�
They were a bit unruly but she couldn�t picture herself any other
way.� He told her that he preferred
straight hair and had on numerous occasions unsubtly hinted that she ought to
get one of those procedures at the salon.�
She never had, thank goodness.

�� She also
didn�t hum in the shower.� Hermione was
not a morning person and as far as she was concerned, there was nothing to be
cheerful over when you were awake hours before you
wanted to be.� She went about her showers
in silence unless someone else was in there with her or she dropped the shampoo
bottle on her foot.� She doubted that a
tirade of curses could be mistaken for the contented humming of a little tune.

�� He had
probably never paid attention to the shape of her lips and she had laughed so
infrequently with him that she would be astounded if he remembered what it
sounded like.

�� The more
she thought about it, the angrier she got.�
The final straw was the sudden remembrance of life in the girls�
dormitory at Hogwarts.� She knew who
hummed in the shower.� Lavender hummed in the shower.

�� Ronald Weasley was toast.

�� Said
redhead was in the Cannons locker room when a very large, very unfriendly owl
made a beeline for him.� It dropped a
familiar red envelope on his head, defecated on his uniform, and flew out as
quickly as it had entered.

�� His teammates
stared at him.� Ron, meanwhile, was
staring at the quaking, smoking red envelope.

�� You may as
well open it, mate,� one of the beaters said.

�� Swallowing
heavily, he reached for it.� Before he
could pick it up, it rose on its own and began to shout.

�� FUCK YOU,
YOU LYING, CHEATING SACK OF DRAGON TURD!�
IF YOU EVER TRY TO CONTACT ME AGAIN FOR ANYTHING OTHER THAN ROSE�S CHILD
SUPPORT PAYMENTS, I WILL SEND YOUR LETTER STRAIGHT BACK WITH A VERY NASTY CURSE ON
IT!� I DON�T MISS ANYTHING ABOUT
YOU!� I DON�T MISS YOUR STUPID
EXPRESSION, YOUR COMPLETE LACK OF TACT, YOUR LAZINESS, OR YOUR ERECTILE
DYSFUNCTION!� AND I WONDER, DOES LAVENDER KNOW THAT HER DARLING HUSBAND IS SENDING
INSINCERE LOVE LETTERS TO HIS EX-WIFE?�
WELL, YOU CAN BET SHE DOES NOW!�
HAVE A LOVELY DAY.� I HOPE YOUR
TEAMMATES HIT YOU WITH A THOUSAND BLUDGERS.�
On a side note, to all the other Cannons, congratulations on an amazing
season and I hope you can manage to win the championship many times in the
future in spite of your worthless keeper. �Love, Hermione.�

�� The howler
then erupted into flames, leaving behind a little pile of ash and a locker room
full of people trying unsuccessfully not to laugh at its unfortunate recipient.

�

�� Hermione
Granger showed up this time; she came with an angry expression and her wand
bursting with hexes.� He managed to block
or evade most of them, but she was relentless.�
The sparks of magic lit up the dark Ibizan
beach.� The Muggles
who were still awake and tumbling out of clubs probably thought it was some kind
of light show.

�� It was only
a matter of time before she landed a spell.�
When she did, it took the breath out of him.� She got him with an absolutely wicked
Stinging Hex.� The pain of a forceful hex
was awful, yet strangely invigorating.

�� Lucius was laughing as he retreated into the water.� He looked psychotic; his eyes were tearing
involuntarily from the pain and he was cackling like a loon.� Something had driven the life back into
her.� It had to be more than just the
content of his postcard.� Whatever it
was, he was indecently pleased at this development.

�� His
postcard had incensed her.� It was from Ibiza, this very beach as a matter of fact, and it had
said: Does this mean I win?� After discovering it mixed in with the post
that had contained Ron�s derivative and wholly false letter, she was primed for
anger and Lucius�s smug words only spurred her on.

�� Don�t you
dare!� she shouted as he moved back towards the water.� �Don�t you dare run, you son of a bitch!�

�� I believe
the correct term would be swim!� he retorted.�
The bastard was laughing!

�� Keep
laughing, Malfoy!�
I will find you!�� She screamed
it, all her rage seeping out into the words � rage that was only partially
designated for him.� Even as she railed,
she knew that he was gone, escaped to the water once more.

�� Hermione
collapsed onto the now-empty beach, breathing hard.� Slowly the anger faded.� The sun was coming up little by little,
revealing a mess of footprints and scorch-marks from deflected hexes.� It hit her then that in the course of the
entire duel, Malfoy had never returned fire.� He had only defended himself.

�� What the
hell was going on in his head?

�� Two more
failed attempts to bring him in by force � Sicily
and Crete, respectively - had her sitting in
her living room pondering over a cup of tea.�
Two things were clear: as long as he was near water, he always had an
escape route, and since he chose the locations he would always be near
water.� She had to lure him to a place
where he couldn�t just flee to the depths where she couldn�t follow.

�� That meant
a change in her approach.� For some
reason known only to him, Malfoy continued to reach
out to her.� Part of it was because he
liked to toy with people, but why her, in particular?� And why had he stayed quietly out of sight
for almost two years before?� Why taunt
the world he�d evaded now?

�� She still
didn�t understand.� However, Hermione did
know that if she ever wanted to, she had to get him to talk to her.� He didn�t seem opposed to it.� It was just that in their quartet of interactions
thus far, she had been so focused on capturing (and threatening) him that there
was no chance for polite conversation.�
That was her fault.� Next time she
would give him a chance to speak before she started firing hexes.

�� That time
came three weeks later.� The postcard was
from the Dead Sea, which lay between Israel
and Jordan.� The Hebrew print indicated that he was on the
Israeli side.� His scrawl said: Don�t forget your swimming costume.

�� Hermione shook her head and
snorted.� Swimming costume? �Who called it that?� If he thought they were going to swim in the Dead Sea together without her attempting to drown him, he
was a nutter.

�� In the end,
though, she went with her bikini on beneath her clothes.

�� He saw her
coming, and he saw that the strap that peeked out from her tank top was not the
generic color of an everyday bra.� The
saucy witch was wearing a bathing suit.�
He had only put that on the postcard to annoy her.� He didn�t actually expect her to take the
opportunity to swim.� Ah well; he was
just fine with that, because it meant that he got to see much more of her skin
than usual.

�� She
couldn�t have hexed him if she wanted to, because there were Muggle tourists around.�
There weren�t many but there were enough to preclude the use of magic.� He was looking at her strangely.� She glared at him.

�� Once she
drew even with him, she wasn�t quite sure what to do.� He was sitting on a towel like any other
tourist.� That alone was disconcerting.

�� Stiffly,
she sat down next to him.� Almost as soon
as she did, she yelped and dove onto the free spot on his towel.� The ground was hot.

�� He
smiled.� �I probably should have warned
you about that.�

�� Hermione
glowered and scooted as far as she possibly could from him.� Thankfully, it was a large towel.� With a foot of space between them, she
inspected the backs of her thighs.� They
were red and tender, but it would pass and she would be fine.

�� She felt
stupid.� She should have known that the
earth would be hot; it was scorching in the midday sun.� The only consolation was the lack of
humidity.

�� I�m
surprised you�re not trying to hex me to pieces,� he commented.

�� Can�t,�
she bit off.� �Muggles.�

�� He
nodded.� �I thought that might deter you,
but wasn�t completely sure.�

�� This is a
stupid place, you know?� she snapped.�
�That lake is over 30% salt.� They call it the Dead Sea because nothing
can live in it.� If you try to pull your
little disappearing act, you�ll die from the salinity.�

�� It crossed
my mind,� he said simply.� Malfoy stared out over the calm waters for a long moment
before returning his gaze to her.� �Let�s
have a swim, shall we?�

�� He stood
up, peeled off his shirt, and began to make his way down to the white-crusted
shore.� Hermione tried not to gawk at
him.� The years spent touring the world
had done him well; his muscles were toned, his body tan and well-shaped.� The tattoos were unexpected, yet somehow they
suited him.

�� At the
shoreline he kicked off his sandals and took a tentative step into the
water.� What madness was this?� He was trapping himself.� The Dead Sea
was misnamed; it was really just a very large lake.� He had nowhere to go and couldn�t survive in
the water if he changed forms.� What was
he doing, and why?

�� The
questions ate at her, and when she couldn�t stand it any longer, she rose and
stripped down.� Then, against every form
of better judgment she had, she followed Lucius Malfoy into the water.

�� The
buoyancy of the water took her by surprise.�
It immediately wanted to pick her up and once she got out far enough,
she couldn�t put her feet on the rough sea floor even if she wanted to.� She had forgotten about this detail.� Sighing, she swam to where Lucius floated in perfect contentment.

�� How could
he be so bloody relaxed?� She both envied
and detested his composure.� Casting a dirty
look his way, she let the water push her into a similar position.� She was floating on her back in the Dead Sea with a fugitive who had evidently lost his
marbles.� Or maybe she was the one who had lost it�

�� The water
was cool and its movement gentle.�
Perhaps that was how he could be so relaxed.� In five minutes, the tension was draining out
of her.� In ten, a heavy lassitude
descended upon her.� She had not felt
this tranquil in years.

�� It was that
feeling of tranquility that enabled her to ask a rational, non-angry question.

�� Why do you
keep sending me postcards?�

�� Why do you
keep responding to them?

�� I asked
you first.�

�� That
doesn�t mean I have to answer.�

�� Which
means the answer is that you don�t know.�

�� I wouldn�t
make assumptions.�

�� No, you�ve
never been guilty of that.�

�� She heard
him chuckle.� Then silence echoed between
them once more.� Hermione thought and
thought, trying to reason out his logic.�
The only conclusion she could draw was�

�� You want
to be caught.�

�� The water
rippled around her as he suddenly swam forward.�
Her heart leapt into her throat.�
She thought perhaps she�d gone too far, somehow overstepped the barely
defined boundaries between them, but all he did was circle her.� He did it with the ease of one who was
comfortable in the water.� He was
graceful and the movement of his body pulled the currents so that she was
stirred sideways.� When the water stilled
Lucius was behind her, looking down at her.� His eyes were almost indistinguishable in
color from the water that cocooned them.

�� Why would
I want to be caught?� he asked.

�� That�s the
part I haven�t figured out yet,� she whispered.

�� Good
luck.�

�� He turned
and tucked beneath the water, gliding away.�
He broke the surface a long moment later.� She watched him swim to shore; he made it
look effortless.

�� She had a
very hard time not looking at the way his shorts clung to his legs and buttocks
when he walked out of the water.� Good
gracious.� He made his way back to the
towel and dried off.� Hermione remained
in the water, trying to process the nuances of what had just occurred.
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