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Hungry Thirsty Crazy	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 47434 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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I�m gonna make a mistake

I�m gonna do it on purpose

I�ve acquired quite a
taste

For a well-made
mistake.

~ Fiona Apple, �A
Mistake�

Hermione stood in her bedroom, frozen.� She had drifted through the rest of her day
at the Ministry with the attention span of a gnat.� Lucius was
occupying the greater part of her mind.�
She was still numb with disbelief.�
First the revelation of the book and now this?� Now he was fighting one of the deadliest muggle diseases
in the world.� It was karma, classically
and cruelly karma.

�� Hermione
sighed and blew a strand of hair out of her face.� She knew he deserved it.� Internally she knew.� He was not a good man.� He had never been good, not since that moment
when he eschewed it for what it had done to him.� Even in this strange vulnerability he was not
good; he was only trying to expel his personal demons, not expiate what they
had done.� All of it was selfish.� But what excruciating, masochistic
selfishness��

If there was a shred of decency to
be had in him she wanted to find it.� She
needed to find it.� Never had she met someone who had been so
terrifically failed by the circumstances of his life, or someone so trapped by
what he had been born into.� The fact
remained that he could have done something,
but�the past was the past and with this situation in her lap, she couldn�t
afford to pay too much attention to it.

She could not believe she was going
to do this.� Who the hell was she and
what had she done with sensible Hermione Granger?� That girl was nowhere to be found as she
began to pack.� She had no idea where Lucius would take her � that cottage?� Who knew, he probably had ten of them
scattered through Europe.� Mother of Merlin, was she really seriously
considering spending two weeks alone
with Lucius Malfoy?

Damn it.� She couldn�t say no to a dying man.� She couldn�t be that unkind.� All he wanted to do was finish the stupid
book and then die � and not peacefully.�
She had seen it in his eyes, felt it in his voice; he fully intended to
languish in every agonizing moment the disease took to kill him.� Perhaps that
was his expiation.

She shook her head.� It would have to come out.� He could not suddenly begin to waste away in
front of his wife and son.� He would have
to tell them.� Or perhaps he intended not
to go back to them; he might think a mysterious disappearance was preferable to
them finding out and watching him die.

Three months ago, before this all
began, she would not have batted an eye at the news that he was suffering.� For the greater part of their forced bond, he
had driven her insane with anger, fear, and worry.� But the things she saw in his head, the words
he spoke to her � words he wouldn�t speak to anyone else, and for once that was
a compliment � and the bitter truth of his book made up for it all.� He had stolen his way into her heart from
under her skin.

My
muse�

Hermione exhaled shakily.� Perhaps she had done the same to him�and the
prospect was daunting.� His disdain she
could handle, his irritation, his grudging confidence, even his unwieldy
friendship, but his�love?�

What understanding did he have of
love?� His father had been a cold
imperious man, more a general than a parent.�
And his mother�she had, perhaps, loved him, but his trust had been
forever shattered when she refused to hear his pleas for help.� That was all he had; no siblings, no other
family that she knew of.� And his marriage,
well, she was almost certain that it had been arranged.� There were only so many purebloods that he
was not already related to.� He had not
fallen in love with Narcissa and as such had not
married her for it.� Time had made him
feel something, though.� Draco�he loved Draco, and fiercely, but he didn�t know how to express it.

She was ridiculous.� He could not love her.� That was impossible.� Still, she always had to fight the urge to
attempt the impossible.� She was wired
for a challenge.� Lucius
was insurmountable, though.� Even she had
to recognize that this was a mountain she couldn�t scale.

Oh, but she wanted to scale him�

Shut
up, Hermione.� It can�t be done.� He�s sick.�
He can�t�

But she knew he could, even if he
didn�t.� People got HIV and went on with
their lives.� People told their partners
and if they agreed on it, still slept together.�
They just used protection; however, witches and wizards did not usually
use anything and most considered the muggle
techniques barbaric (if they were even aware of them).� Sexually transmitted diseases were almost
unheard of in the magical community and a good contraception charm or potion
precluded the need for a barrier.� She
could still remember Luna�s absolute bewilderment when Dean, taught sensibly by
his muggle father, had attempted to use a condom
during one of their first encounters.�
Luna was outrageous at the best of times, but her endless speculation
about that silly piece of latex had driven both Dean and Hermione up the wall.� She was surprised that Dean had not broken up
with Luna straightaway when she accused him of skinning baby puffertoots for his �strange penis glove�.� A smile flitted across Hermione�s face.� She missed Luna terribly at times.

Her smile faded a moment later when
the reality of what she was going to do hit home.� Lucius wanted
her.� She had seen that well enough in
his dreams and the knowledge of his desire was intensely pleasing and
frightening at the same time.� Of all the
men whose attentions it might be better not
to attract�

This was a precarious situation,
indeed.� Hermione got the feeling that he
had been abstaining for a long time now; he didn�t want to pass the disease on
and she was curiously proud of him for that.�
But two weeks alone with a young, beautiful (yes, she could bolster her
ego a bit), forbidden woman might
prove too great a temptation � for both of them.� She wasn�t blameless in it; she would never
forget how it had felt to share the same space as him, to have him pour his
powerful sexuality onto her.� She
squirmed even now when she thought about his tongue and his warm breath and
his...ooh.� The animalistic part of her
recognized what he could do and wanted him to do it.� So�this entire trip was uncharted territory
and they were a mismatched Lewis and Clark.

Again, she was being
ridiculous.� He was not going to sleep
with her.� This was not about sex.� It was about finishing his book in the most
expedient way possible, and that meant essentially kidnapping her and letting
her do her muse-ly thing.� In spite of herself she smiled; she had never
been anyone�s muse before.� It was kind
of flattering.

She pretended that she wasn�t
packing a few of her racier boudoir items.�
One never knew.� It was good to be
prepared for any situation�

A pair of black lacy knickers
slipped from her hand.� Oh, what was wrong
with her?� She had a boyfriend and here she was packing for a trip with another
man, a man she knew was attracted to her and vice versa.� A man she couldn�t begin to predict.� A man who was still dangerous�

But,
the voice in her mind growled, Ron hasn�t
come to see you in three weeks.� Every
time he leaves for auror training he is gone
longer.� You can�t talk to him.� You have to dumb yourself down for him.� And all you do when he is here is have sex.� Mediocre sex.�

And what would she do with Lucius?� She had no
idea, but on the (very slight) chance that she did end up in bed with him she
knew it would not be mediocre
sex.� Lucius Malfoy did not do mediocrity.� There was no question that he�d comprehend
her; he was one of the few people in the world that might be smarter than
her.� Might be.�

Resolutely she picked up the
indecent knickers and tossed them in the bag.�
Ron�well, she would worry about Ron later.� However strangely the situation had come
about and however much she shouldn�t care, Lucius needed
her.� And what better way was there to
completely turn him around�than to show him just how strong and amazing and worthy a muggleborn
could be?

Yes.� Yes, this mission was two-fold: to help him
finish his book, and to chip away at the last of his prejudices.� By the time she was done with him, he
wouldn�t hate muggles and muggleborns
anymore.� Or at the very least�he would
not hate all of them for what one had done.�

So there she was, meeting him in
the tea shop.� Anna the counter girl
smiled when Hermione walked in.� Lucius was at that same table by the window.� She noticed for the first time that it had an
ink stain in the wood � a relic of him and his toil that would stay until they
replaced their tables.

�Looks like you two finally found
one another,� Anna said as Hermione approached the counter.� The tea here was good; she was going to need
a cup to steady her nerves.

Were
you spying on me?� Lucius�s voice washed over her, coyly amused.

Of
course.� Would you expect anything less?

No,
I wouldn�t.� He stood and moved
towards the counter.

�A cup of Earl Grey for me, and��
he paused, digging slightly and plucking her preference from her mind, �Darjeeling for the lady.�

She retaliated, pushing through his
defenses to find his favorite sweet.�
�And two black and white cookies,� she added.� Of course he would like those.� She could swear that he was fighting a smile
as he paid.� The man of manners and
secrets reared his head again.

�� She sat
across from him and observed that he ate the dark side first, and she the
light.� He took his tea with a dash of
sugar and milk; she liked a lot of sugar and lemon.� Even in these little things they were so
different.� But so far�so far he was
being downright pleasant.

�� So,� she
said, brushing a crumb from her shirt, �where exactly are we going?�

�� Not one
for surprises?�

Not
when you�re involved.

His eyebrows went up.� Hermione flinched.� She hadn�t meant to hurl that out into their
psychic space.� It was difficult to
moderate her stream of consciousness sometimes.

Can
you blame me? she hurried to recover.�
There have been so many already,
I�m not sure my heart could take it.

It
is no one�s fault but your own, he taunted.�
If you had not been so nosy you
would never have been pulled into this.

If
you had not been so suspicious, I wouldn�t have been compelled to be so nosy!

Miss
Granger, three months ago I could have breathed the wrong way and you would
think it was suspicious.

It
is no one�s fault but your own, she shot back, throwing his words at him.� You
didn�t give me much else to work with.

�Drink your tea,� he said sorely.

After a moment Anna spoke up.� �So, Mr. M, how is the book going?�

A shade of something devious stole
into his eyes.� �Quite well, thank
you.� I�ve been meaning to ask you, Anna�what�s
a synonym for annoying?�� He looked straight at Hermione when he said
it.

She put down her cup of tea and
gave him a dirty look.

�Bothersome,� Anna supplied.� �Irritating.�
Aggravating, exasperating, vexing.�
Irksome��

Hermione kicked him under the
table.� And she did not kick
lightly.� He barely winced, for a
gloating smile overtook his face.

�Irksome will do.� Much appreciated.��

In the end she didn�t press
him.� He allayed her nerves when he
looked back at her as they exited the tea shop.

�You know I would not take you
anywhere unsavory,� he said, holding the door for her.� Because
I would not take myself anywhere unsavory.

Hermione rolled her eyes.� She knew, though, that this was his way of
trying to reassure her.� The fact that he
couldn�t do it outside the realm of himself would take a lot of work to change,
if it could be changed at all.� He was
fundamentally self-centered, but that seemed to be a plague of men everywhere.

He led her into a narrow alleyway
that deposited them behind the tea shop.�
He swept the area with a critical glance, and, apparently satisfied,
held his hand out to her.� Hermione
hesitated; a thought had just popped into her head.

��What is your wife going to think?� she
asked.� �Going off with some girl half your
age won�t look good.�

�Less than half,� he
corrected.� �And do not worry about my
wife.�

Hermione looked at him
analytically.� She searched his face, his
posture, his eyes, his mind; all were quiet, schooled, perfectly
innocuous.� Either he was hiding something
or he genuinely did not care what his wife thought.� Well, if he wanted to play that way, who was
she to stop him?� She had already
mentally shelved Ron and didn�t feel nearly as bad about it as she should.

�If you say so,� she shrugged, and
took his hand.� It was large and warm and
sure, and she did not doubt its strength�only its intent.

It was dark.� Hermione sneezed.� Dark and dusty, apparently.

�Ugh,� he said next to her.� �Lumos.�

A pool of soft light illuminated
the room.� It was large and cavernous,
the ceiling towering high above, and the great space swallowed the light.� All she could see was a painted wall.� It was a warm marigold color, but faded so
that it did not overwhelm the eyes.

He moved.� She stayed still as the sphere of his light
moved away.� He knew where he was
going.� A moment later she had to close
her eyes against the blinding intrusion of the sun.� When her eyes adjusted, she could make out
the shape of him standing near a tremendous open window.

�What a state this place is in�� he
murmured to himself.

She paid him no mind.� She was riveted by what she saw outside the
window.� Hermione moved as if possessed,
and in a few shuffling steps she was standing next to him.

The windows had to be eight feet high,
and unfettered they spilled one of the most beautiful images she had ever
seen.� Land rolled out beneath them in
squares of green, red, and gold.� There
was a giant field of sunflowers to the right, raising their swaying black faces
to the sun.� The sky was blue and
boundless, inhabited by the occasional perfect cloud and an opaque sliver of
daytime moon.� The air was fragrant with
sweet summer grass.� Not like the damp
earthy terror of his dreams; this�this smelled heavenly.

�Where�?� was all she managed.

�Tuscany,� he replied.� �One of my family�s vacation homes.� It hasn�t been used in a long, long
time.� We came here when I was very
young�seven or eight��

Hermione tore her gaze from the
countryside and settled on him.� He was
looking out at the sprawling fields, his quicksilver eyes devouring the
scenery.� Under her scrutiny he
straightened up.� As he did, his hand
bumped something on the windowsill.

He picked up the circular
object.� It was caked in dust and grime;
she couldn�t say what it was underneath.�
With an indefinable expression, he wiped a hand across the surface.� It surprised her; she would have expected him
to use a spell or at the very least, a handkerchief.� He didn�t even seem to notice the dirt on his
hand.

A reflective surface met her
curious stare.

A
mirror?

He nodded.� I had a
friend.� Down there� here he pointed
to a cluster of houses to the northeast.�
My father did not like me
associating with muggles.

Hermione understood.� So you
used the mirror to signal?

Lucius
nodded again. �After a moment: I was a silly child.� The statement was full of a strange
resignation.

She took the mirror from him and
finished cleaning it.� You weren�t silly.� She leaned a little ways out the window,
mindful of the fact that though it wasn�t a long way down, it would still be
painful and embarrassing if she fell.�
Holding up the mirror, she tried to catch the sun.

�What are you doing?�

�What does it look like?�

�It�s been almost forty years, Miss
Granger.� I should hope that the boy is
not still living in the same place he was born.�

She turned to him.� �You still live in the same place you were
born.�

�It is an ancestral home, not a
common cottage.� It would be foolish to
live anywhere else.�

�Would it?� she asked.� He frowned at her.� She ignored him and turned back, lifting the
mirror into the sun�s warm rays and finding the perfect angle.

You�re
a sentimental thing, aren�t you.

�Not sentimental,� she answered, a
smile tugging at her lips.� �Just�I�ve
never been to Tuscany.��

She spent the rest of the day
cleaning with him.� She didn�t mind it; a
gentle breeze flowed in through the tall windows and birds were chirping and it
was simply perfect outside.� She hummed
to herself.� His mouth and his mind were
quiet.� So quiet, in fact, that she lost
track of where he was.

And that was how he scared the
living daylights out of her twenty minutes later, placing something on her
shoulder.� Hermione screamed, caught
completely off guard, and tried to dislodge whatever it was.� It stuck hard and fast and she felt tiny
frissons of pain as claws met her skin.

�What is it?!� she cried, going still.�
�What is it, what is it, what did you put on me?�� The reaction was a holdover from elementary
school, when boys would play tricks on her.�
A favorite had been putting bugs into her massive hair�

�Control yourself,� he
chuckled.� �Or you will scare him.�

�Him?�� Cautiously, Hermione lifted a hand to touch
the small bundle that was clutching her shirt for dear life.� It was warm and furry.� It mewled at her touch and slowly its claws
unlocked.� �Oh,� she cooed, shifting the
now-cooperative kitten into her arms.�
�Oh, he�s precious.�

Lucius
was already striding away to the next room.

Lucius?

He didn�t answer for long
seconds.� But then,

He
was in the courtyard.

She blinked.� There�s
a courtyard?

�The linens, I�m afraid,� he said a
moment later, right behind her, making her jump, �are quite beyond repair.� We will need to go into town and purchase new
ones.�

�And some food,� she added, once
she had recovered from her second shock in as many minutes.

�Yes,� he said absently,
�food.�� His tone said that he didn�t
give a whit about food.� He then busied
himself clearing off a massive wooden desk that had been overtaken by dust that
might have been a quarter of an inch thick.�
She recognized the look of a man claiming his territory; this was where
he would try to do his writing.

Hermione stroked the kitten,
smiling at its contentment as it lounged against her chest.� It was a striped orange cat, like Crookshanks, but lacked the smushed-in
face and pudgy build.� This little thing
was svelte and unbearably cute.

�What should we call him?�

Lucius
shook his head in response.

�Come on.� What would you call him?�

�Naming it means you intend to keep
it.� I, for one, would be perfectly happy
to eject it back out into the courtyard.�

�You�re being mean on purpose.�

Lucius
snorted.� �It is a feral cat.� It was doing fine before we arrived and would
continue to do so if we let it be.�

She looked at him
incredulously.� �You�re the one who
brought him in!�

Her enigmatic companion pursed his
lips, but said nothing.� She sighed.� He was impossible at times.� She was about to tell him so, consequences be
damned, when something caught her eye.� A
glint � a glint in the setting sun.

�Lucius!� Lucius, look!�

He turned slowly, his face full of
bored vexation.� That expression melted
away when he took in what she was pointing at.�
Across the rolling plain, something shiny caught the fading sunlight,
directing a pink flash in through their window.�
It undulated and winked with a clear intention.

�He�s still there!� Hermione felt
overjoyed for a reason she couldn�t quite identify.� �Answer back, Lucius!�

�What is the point?�

�What�s the point?� she sputtered.� �The
point is� the point is�� Truthfully she
had no idea what the point was, but that was irrelevant.� �Ooh!�
If you won�t, then I will.�� She
set the kitten on the wide windowsill and picked up the mirror.� �What were your signals?�

He didn�t answer.� She turned, not comprehending his reluctance.

�It�s harmless.�

�It�s pointless,� he repeated.

She stared at him.� He did not stare back.

You
can do this.

His attention snapped to her now,
eyes blazing, and she knew the scathing look was because he thought she thought he was afraid. �I do
not have time to retrace the follies of the past, he growled.

�I don�t care,� she responded
flippantly.� �I�m going to signal him
anyway.�

They stood in a stalemate that was
tense and unreadable.� At last he exhaled
and rolled his tricky eyes.

One
flash was no. �Two were yes.� Three asked if it was safe to come over.� There was more, but I won�t overload your
slim powers of comprehension.

Hermione smiled.� He was a sore loser.� So what if he wouldn�t do it himself?� He wouldn�t stop her from retracing his childhood follies.� Frankly, she was glad he�d had them � it made
him human.� She lifted the mirror.

You
think I wouldn�t?

Wouldn�t
what?

Stop
you.� And suddenly his hands were on
her from behind, one across her ribs and the other cupped high on her neck,
beneath her chin.� With a pull of his
muscles her back hit his chest.� Her body
vibrated like it never had before, thrumming powerfully in the wake of contact.� Was it the Vow?� No, even before that he�d made her weak�

His index finger was resting gently
against the corner of her mouth.� With a
calculating tenderness, he drew that digit across her bottom lip, barely
touching.� It scorched the sensitive
skin, sent an electric current through her.�
In that one sweep she felt her nipples tighten beneath her shirt, felt
her abdomen clench.� She wanted to take
that haughty finger between her lips and suck on it.� Hermione shivered, unconsciously tilting her
neck and making it available to him.�

She felt a slight flex of his hand
against her rib cage, as if it itched to stray higher.� She clamped down on her thoughts, willing
them not to betray how much she wanted that.��
His lips settled on the place where her neck met her shoulder, once,
relaxed, not a kiss, and two warm breaths tickled her.� And then he released her. �

His absence was acute this
time.� She was almost crippled, reduced
by the swiftness of his advance and how quickly and unpredictably he could turn
into that bold seducer.� No one should be
able to make her want to rip off her clothes and shag them senseless in less
than five seconds!� Especially not him;
he was perilous in more ways than one.�
But with a single little gesture�

He was already out of the
house.� She could see him striding down
the drive, blasting overgrown plants into submission as he went.� Was she supposed to go with him?� Was she not?�
She had no idea.� She didn�t know
if she could take thirteen more days of this.�
This had been a mistake, but she�d already made it and there was no
going back.� He wouldn�t let her go
back.� Swallowing, Hermione reached out
for the shutters.� The kitten looked at
her with luminous green eyes.

�In or out, little fellow,� she
said, her voice a bit unsteady.� After a
moment�s contemplation, the kitten made his choice.� He jumped out onto the ground.� She smiled weakly.� He was a wild thing after all, like Lucius said��

Author�s Note:� Sadly,
guys, my schedule is hell for the next week or two, so the updates are going to
slow down.� Leave me some love and I�ll
do my best to get some new chapters written!
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