Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Amazing Grace	By : Kooldragon400 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 41309 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any recongizable characters, nor do I make any money off of this story.

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Wow. Four reviews. To be fair, the ones that actually did review fed the plot bunnies, but there was so little response that I think I couple of the little bastards died. That's why this chap took so long. I had no motivation to write. :c This is not as good as I really wanted it to be, but I had to have a few things happen before I could throw our dear couple together. Simple things. Promise.

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Hermione made no friends as she barreled through the halls of the Ministry of Magic. She dodged, weaved, and shoved like she was possessed in order to make it through the crowd to the Department of Literature and Record-Keeping. She heard several people hiss at her retreating back, but she couldn’t be bothered with those idiots as she made a desperate bid for her work-place.

She literally grabbed a doorway and used it to propel herself into a sharp turn, only coming to a near skidding stop in front of her boss, who stood in front of the door to the Library, his arms crossed.

“Well, well. Miss Granger, it’s good to see you’re finally in. You realize this is the fourth time you’ve been late in the last two months?” he asked.

“I apologize, Jim. Harry had a rough night last night, and I was up helping him through a nightmare.” She huffed. Jim sighed, and stood aside from the doorway.

“Look, I’m sorry Mr. Potter isn’t having a good time of it, Miss Granger, but at this point I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell you that if you’re late again, you might as well not bother to come in at all. I know that the post has been abandoned for years, Miss Granger, but that doesn’t mean that the person who took it over can just not show up.” He said. Hermione frowned, but nodded. If it were between Harry and her job, she’d choose Harry every single time.

“Yes sir.” She said, but even her boss could see by the way her mouth turned down and her brown eyes sparkled with anger that she wanted to say something. He sighed again.

“Just go to work, Granger.” He said tiredly.

Just because the job had been officially abandoned for years didn’t mean no one had been unofficially working on clearing up the Library. He was glad of the help, but not if it meant she was extremely late every other day.

She eased into her cubby made of walls of books, pulling her sheaf of papers from her purse and sitting down to remind herself of where she had gotten to yesterday. She began sifting through the papers, and paused when she got about three sheets in.

She pulled the unfamiliar piece of parchment out, staring at the neat, curled handwriting before her. The numbers written on the page were advanced, and would have made no sense to any normal person. But Hermione just stared at the numbers for a few moments, taking in a few of the equations as her eyes darted across the paper.

“Wow.” She murmured to herself. She had somehow gotten hold of one of Lucius Malfoy’s papers, and the math on this piece of parchment was phenomenal. She could follow it, yes, but the numbers that she couldn’t see told a story of intellect the likes of which she had never seen before. He used a mixture of Arithmancy and standard math, calculating the financial risks with such accuracy that she could almost smell the galleons that this piece of paper alone would be worth.

His handwriting was neat and very formal, as uniform and nice as any font she’d seen on her word processing program on her computer. The lines weren’t too thick or thin, the sign of someone very comfortable with a quill.

Even all the years she’d known she was a witch she still had a bit of trouble with a quill. Her handwriting was neat and legible, but it didn’t have the same artistic elegance that his did.

And then she paused, and nearly punched herself in the face. She was comparing her own handwriting with that of Lucius Malfoy. He was a Death Eater, for Merlin’s sake. He’d tried to kill her several times in the past, nearly succeeding once on the grounds of Hogwarts.

To be fair, though, she didn’t think he realized he almost tossed her down a flight of stairs in the desperate search for his son.

He did have very nice handwriting. He probably had great control of his fingers-

Aaaaaand fuck. She needed a drink, and she needed to go see Ron. Yeah, Ron. Her dear boyfriend. He and Harry weren’t as close as they had been before, but he was a great comfort. She’d go by after work and pay him a visit. It had been a few days since she’d been able to get a little alone time with him, and she couldn’t wait to toss him on the sofa and get freaky.

She forgot about Lucius Malfoy’s financial paper fairly quickly.

~~

She knocked on the door to Ron’s flat, eager for some attention. She heard a small crash inside, and Ron’s voice cursing loudly.

The door was pulled open, and Ron stood in his underwear, rubbing his head. He looked surprised to see Hermione.

“M-Mione!” he said. She smiled.

“Hello, Ron. Are you all right?” she asked with a smile.

“Er…what do you mean?” he asked nervously.

“You were rubbing your head, Ron. I thought you may have tripped over that pair of boots right beside your bed that I told you should go in your closet.” Hermione answered, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Ron flushed. “Are you going to invite me in?” Hermione asked, moving to come in the door.

“No!” Ron yelped. Hermione looked surprised, and Ron cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s so messy in here. I was about to start cleaning, and it’ll be a distraction if you come in.” he said, lowering his voice. Hermione made a purring sound in the back of her throat.

“How about I help you polish your wand?” she cooed.

“Who’s there, Ron? What’s taking so long?”

And Hermione’s hot blood froze at the sound of a female voice behind Ron. Ron closed his eyes for a few moments, and when he opened them, he saw the familiar sight of Hermione’s brown eyes glowing with anger.

“Ron? Who’s in there?” Hermione asked. She had her answer when Lavender Brown’s face appeared over Ron’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“Hello, Hermione. What are you doing here?” Lavender asked, an undeniable smirk on her face. Hermione looked at her for a few moments, before her gaze turned to Ron.

“When were you going to tell me you were seeing someone else?” Hermione asked.

“Hermione…you were always working…” Ron started.

“And you were using your so-called war hero status to mooch off of the Government so you wouldn’t have to work!” Hermione snapped. Ron’s familiar temper overtook his embarrassment.

“So called? And how did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“You coward!” Hermione hissed. “You bloody well cried when Bellatrix Lestrange locked you in that closet, and then when your best friend needed you the most you were more interested in getting that Mediwitch to check your willy for nicks than helping him duel Voldemort!”

“Don’t be so bitter, Hermione.” Lavender interjected, pressing her cheek against Ron’s face. Every light in the hallway shattered in a flash of magic, and Ron immediately shielded Lavender with his arms. Hermione’s lower lip trembled slightly, and large pearly tears flooded her eyes and washed her face.

“If you wanted her instead, you should have just told me instead of going behind my back. That way I wouldn’t have wasted my time on a wizard who didn’t want anything to do with someone who’s IQ is higher than their age. I hope you’re both happy together. By the way, the kids will be stupid.” And she Disapparated with a crack so loud Ron had to slap his hands to his ears.

She landed at the front door of her flat, and threw the door open with such force that a couple pictures fell from the wall.

Harry appeared at his bedroom doorway, his wand in his hand. He took one look at Hermione and rolled into the living room quickly.

“What happened? Did your boss get angry with you, Mione? Do you want me to get him fired?” Harry asked. Hermione gave a soft sob, and shook her head.

“No. I went to Ron’s after work. He was there with someone else.” She said. Harry’s eyes widened.

“Fuck. I’ll get the ice cream.” He said, and started towards the kitchen.

“No, Harry. I don’t want any ice cream. I think I’ll just go to bed.” Hermione called. Harry’s head snapped back towards her, and he watched her for several moments. Hermione turning down ice cream was tantamount to Godzilla announcing he was Vegan.

But when she started towards her bedroom, Harry knew this had hit her hard.

“Mione.” He called. She looked back at him. “You want me to go kick his arse? I could roll over his foot and catch him in an uppercut…” he offered. She rewarded Harry’s attempt with a watery smile, and then disappeared in her bedroom. Harry cursed softly, wishing nothing but ill fortune on a red-haired cheater and whoever he’d been brave enough to cheat with.

He rolled into her bedroom, frowning when he saw her curled up on her bed crying silently.

“Hermione….” Harry started. Hermione shook her head, and he merely rolled up beside her bed and sat there quietly.

“Am I ugly?” she asked after several tense minutes.

“No. Ron’s a fool. He never could see what he had in front of him. You’re a beautiful, brilliant witch, and you need someone who can match your intellect. Ron, unfortunately, had the emotional range of a wet teabag, and the same amount of sensitivity.” Harry said bluntly. Hermione gave a shaky laugh. She wouldn’t argue that point. “You will find the perfect man one day, Hermione, and he will make you the happiest girl in the world. So until then, we watch sappy movies and eat ice cream until we explode in a chunky monkey mess.”

Hermione gave Harry a smile.

“All right, but I don’t feel like watching a romance movie tonight. I want to watch something blow up.”

~~

She peeled her eyes open when the sunlight slapped her in the face. She was on her sofa, an empty carton of ice cream sitting on her stomach and several bottles of butterbeer (and a couple bottles of firewhisky) strewn across the floor.

“Oh Merlin…what a night.” She groaned, and sat up. Harry had fallen asleep in his wheelchair, his head thrown back and a pair of his boxer shorts still resting on his head. (To be fair to everyone involved, they had come straight out of the laundry basket and both of them were drunk.)

She tried to propel herself off the couch, but ended up basically swan-diving into the coffee table. Harry jerked awake when she yelped.

“M’not watching porn, Aunt Petunia!” he shouted. Then he pressed his hand to his forehead as his pulse beat a steady throb in his forehead. “Effing hell, Hermione…” he moaned.

Hermione looked up, and squinted at the digital clock on her television. Then she cursed, and her head fell back against the ground with a thud.

“What is it, Mione?” Harry croaked.

“Well, nothing much, except it’s 11:24, and my boss told me if I was late again I shouldn’t even come in. And you know what, damn it? I don’t want to go in. I wanna stay here and eat more ice cream. Fuck those dusty old books. Fuck the world!” she snapped from her position on the ground.

“Yeah. Fuck them all.” Harry agreed. “Matter of fact, they can all go be buggered with red-hot fireplace pokers.”

Hermione’s head appeared over the coffee table, looking like a Medusa with some of her curls sticking straight up like coiled serpents. She looked ready to agree with him, but then she got a good look at him, and blinked several times.

“Why do you have boxer shorts on your head?”

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Apparently, Hermione, you have never been to a real party. That's because Slytherins have the best parties. Lucius said he woke up one morning wearing his date's bra and found his boxers flying from a makeshift flagpole in the Slytherin Common Room. That's the moment he stopped wearing them, so that embarrassing moment couldn't happen again. He wouldn't answer me about the bra, though. That question got me a slapped ass. *pouts*
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Amazing Grace