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Soleil	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 7430 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nothing of HP nor do I profit in any way from these missives. The characters in this story belong to JK Rowling, Scholastic and/or WB. I do not profit in any manner by any means from the publishing or writing of this story.

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As she rushed into his office at Soleil’s Paris venue, Hermione found Lucius as she often did in recent months — stretched out on the floor playing with Rose on a duvet from the Manor. Today he held her tiny hands as she practiced walking barefoot across his chest.

“We have a problem.”
“When do we not, Hermione?”

Graceful despite his age, her employer stood, bending to sweep the infant up and into his arms when he regained his feet.

“You’re spoiling her; she refuses to let me put her down at home.”
“My prerogative; check your contract.”

The enchanted contract added clauses at Lucius’ will, constantly rewriting itself despite her magical signature and its registration with the British Ministry.

“Someone’s laundering galleons through us — counterfeit galleons.”
“Desk,” he called out to her as he moved to take his customary seat behind the spoken item.
“I’ll put Rose in the playpen.”
“She prefers my lap. I prefer her in it.”

A frustrated sigh overcame the young mother’s best attempts to remain professional about her unusual child minder arrangements. Molly insisted on helping with Rose as Hermione’s duties expanded and required travel.

After weeks without the child in his office, Lucius made it a point to floo to the Burrow and “pick Rose up for Hermione”.

The day he’d fallen asleep in his office with the baby in his arms — and without alerting Hermione to Rose’s whereabouts — had been epic. Draco’d floo'd in for his dinner engagement with his father to find Lucius pinned in a corner, Rose held tightly in his arms, while Hermione jabbed the wizard’s chest repeatedly with her wand and screamed what would happen the next time her employer kidnapped her daughter.

It had no effect on his behaviour.

Two weeks later she’d relented; Molly kept Rose only under extraordinary circumstances.

Flopping into one of two chairs in front of his desk, Hermione continued the debrief.

“A month ago I noted a curious change in the sales at one of the terminals. That drawer consistently registers 25 to 30% more sales. So I looked into it. Based on it’s location the increase in transactions made no sense; until three months ago that spot typically handled a third fewer sales than the others.”
“What changed?”

On Lucius’ lap, Rose contentedly sucked her fingers while playing with his hair.

“Lars Fabian. Hired five months ago in London and trained there. Nothing of interest. He holds dual magical citizenship in France and Norway.”
“So Lars might be a graduate of Durmstrang?”
“That’s my guess. His arrival here predates another unusual change. The Poliakov party began their weekly after-hours visits about a week after Mr. Fabian took over that location. Most weeks they spend at least 30,000 galleons here.”
“Good customers. Security hasn’t had a single issue with their group. Also Durmstrang graduates, if I recall.”

Adopting a smug grin, Hermione raked her skirt up just enough to allow her to prop her silk-stockinged legs on the chair in front of her. Lucius had to cross his legs to stop his response to her as she leaned forward to remove her heels and stretched her legs deliciously.

“That’s because Security has no training in spotting fake galleons.”

Lucius shot forward in his chair, encircling Rose with his other hand to keep her safely seated in his lap.

“During my sixth year at Hogwarts I created a number of fake galleons for Dumbledore’s Army. Each galleon was charmed to display the date and time of the next meeting. Dolores Umbridge held one in her hand — she thought I’d charmed a real galleon.”
“I’m not paying you enough. You’re an expert in counterfeiting.”
“You’re paying me more than you should but there’s nothing I can do about it. My daughter has five years of Hogwarts paid in full.”
“I’m also astounded that you’re not a Slytherin.”
“So’s Draco — but he maintains that everyone has a little Slytherin in them.”
“Let’s hope so.”

She let the double entendre pass unchallenged.

“In any case, after Fabian’s shift last weekend I had his cash drawer pulled and I personally charmed every galleon he touched that night. We have two problems.”

While Hermione rifled through the stack of parchments hiding the top of those gorgeous gams from Lucius’ view, Lucius accio’d a bottle of breast milk from the stasis chest he kept in his office and cast a quick warming charm on it. With her teething nearly done, a full tummy would provide maximum time for her mother to explain how someone was stealing from a Malfoy.

Stealing from Malfoys historically proved to be a very life-altering choice.

“The first problem is that Fabian has been entering more transactions than the surveillance equipment says he should have. The difference between the Poliakov party’s tabs and the legitimate cash in the till exactly matches the number of counterfeit galleons I found.”
“We’re taking in fakes and making change with real ones.”
“Exactly. The second is I’m unsure how many they’ve passed.”
“Has Gringott’s been notified?”
“Yes and I’ve proven to them that their counterfeiting charm requires an update.”
“I’m sure they didn’t hesitate to offer you a position.”
“No… Something about owing them for the loss of a trained watch-dragon.” she smirked.

The CEO’s slate grey eyes glanced at the wall clock as he settled the baby at a recline in the crook of his arm.

“The Poliakov party will arrive in an hour; I need to prepare.”

— and he found his feet slowly so as not to disturb the child when he transferred her to her mother.

“What are you going to do?”
“If you’ve been your usual thorough self, I’m sure you’ve documented this for the French authorities?”
“Yes and they’ll be here to interview us tomorrow; but that doesn’t answer my question. What are you going to do?”
“What I resolved to do a long time ago — to never let anyone take anything that’s mine.”
“Don’t be rash, Lucius. Let the authorities handle it.”

Faced with a testosterone crisis, Hermione’s stress disturbed Rose’s quiet slumber.

“Do not wake that child, Hermione. You’ll catch the devil getting her back to sleep in my absence.”
“Lucius, you do NOT have to deal with this! What possible purpose can be served by you dueling 15 people!?”

Now Rose fretted in her twilight sleep, reacting to the raised voices in the room (mostly Hermione’s).

“Hermione,” he hissed in a failed attempt to whisper, “counterfeiting and money laundering gangs seldom work alone. While the authorities will stop this problem, they won’t prevent every other bloody thug that knows of Poliakov’s scheme from using my business as a bank! Call it setting an example. You’re to stay here until I return — and do not wake that child with your shrieking.”

Rocking the babe, Gryffindor’s bravest muggle-born confronted the issue still unspoken between them.

“And if you don’t return?…”

Lucius sighed and Gryffindor’s most brilliant muggle-born teared up. The wily survivor closed the distance between them in three long strides and gently kissed her forehead, his arms cradling her as she cradled her daughter.

“As my only heir, Draco inherits Malfoy Enterprises. I’ve left Soleil I and II to you and Draco jointly and to Rose — she’s the majority owner. Her stake is in trust until her 25th birthday and controlled by you. Draco knows and concurs.”

Stepping away, Lucius opened the wardrobe hidden in the corner and selected the appropriate arse-kicking clothing before stepping into the en-suite to change.

“Will you wait for me here or are you so incensed by my intent that you will run away with Rose and ruin my inevitable victory celebration?” he called out from the en-suite.
“I’ll wait here. The authorities will want a senior staff member to identify the remains,” she growled at the gap in the en-suite doorway.
“Such a defeatist attitude. So be it! I’ll prove to you I’m not the decrepit wizard you think I am,” and with a pop, he apparated to the main floor of the club and magically blacked the glass wall in the office to block her view…

Two hours later found Hermione sobbing in harmony with Rose on the sofa in Lucius’ office as Draco tried and failed to console her.

“Hermione, my father’s no fool.”
“He joined the Death Eaters!” she snapped back.
“He’s not always a fool — and this is different. He’s right, you know. Leave this to the authorities and this place will be a haven of criminal activity and not the high-end, high profit club it is now. Is that what you want?”
“I’m out of my depth here, Draco. I’m just a glorified bookkeeper; I never expected Lucius would confront these criminals! If I had —”
“If you’d known you wouldn’t have revealed it — you’d go Gryffindor and take care of it yourself.”

That got a small smile; Draco called it correctly.

“What if something hap—”

A loud “POP” announced the return of the conquering hero —

— and he looked like ten miles of torn-up road.

His face sported any number of bruises as did his entire chest and back (visible through the remains of his burning robes). Burns pretty well covered his hands and forearms, none serious but clearly painful. Someone had taken an inch from his long hair and singed an ear in the process.

“What fun that was! I used spells I haven’t cast since —”

The stench of smoke and something else noxious covered his trousers; the missing areas revealed the still-handsome poseur wore embroidered red silk boxers which managed to survive the encounter with not one mark.

Hermione didn’t care one wit about his smell or his boxers.

“You’re safe!” she shouted as she flew into Lucius’ damaged arms, upsetting Rose who wailed her fright at the commotion and being squished between them.
“Draco, why are you here…?” Lucius silently mouthed over the head of the distraught witch.

Smirking Malfoy-style, the younger man merely pointed to the witch sobbing on the elder Malfoy’s chest. Winking at his father to signal his approval, Draco found his way into the floo and back to his own disaster — a walking terror of a firstborn and a pregnant wife.

“Give her to me,” the victor directed as he reached for Rose.
“I’ll keep her until you’ve showered,” his accountant sniffled slower and slower as adrenaline drained from her body.
“Don’t apparate in the state your in — you’ll end up in the Thames,” he called as he dashed into the en-suite.

Fifteen minutes of serious cleansing and first aid returned an almost normal appearance to Hermione’s boss.

“Has Rose eaten?”

Two house elves popped in, before she could answer, with a tray of freshly-made baby food for Rose and an assortment of cheeses, artisan breads, fruits and chocolates for the adults. Lucius gave one additional instruction in a whisper to the elves before they disappeared. They were back almost instantly then gone for the evening.

“She’s every bit as upset with you as I am!” Hermione glared as she guided the crawling infant across her lap and into Lucius’ when he landed beside her on the sofa.
“Drink this.”
“My patience with your orders is at its ebb, Lucius.”
“You’re shaking. I’ve frightened you and that was not my intent, Hermione. Please. Please drink this; it will settle your nerves so you can harangue me in a more civil tone.”
“What is it?” she queried as she leaned forward to take the flute from the tray.
“A mild sedative — kir. Black current with a splash of white wine. Not enough alcohol to disturb your milk, although I think your little one will sleep quite well when she finally goes down for the night.”
“Let’s hope her mother does as well,” his favorite employee deadpanned into her glass.

An hour restored calm to the child, who Lucius placed on her blanket on the floor to play, and almost to her mother.

“I have returned, as I predicted.”
“What you did was dangerous and unnecessary! You’re too old to act like a teenager dashing off to fight at every provocation!”
“Too old…” came back in a disheartened tone, “and that’s why I felt compelled to handle this my way.”
“What if something had happened to you!?”
“Would it have mattered so much to you if I had ‘met my match’, Chou?”

The loose translation of the nickname was “Favored Pet”.

“Yes,” she answered in all seriousness, her eyes shifting between molten anger and loving concern, “it would have, especially to Rose.”

At the reminder of the witch who brightened his days, Lucius gazed in Rose’s direction and witnessed a milestone. After months of practice, the little one stood on her own — frowning like her mother as she concentrated — and took three determined steps, reaching out to steady herself on his leg.

“Oh my gosh! Lucius! Did you see!? She's walking!”

The baby chortled with glee as her favorite playmate swept her into his arms.

“That’s my brilliant little witch! We’ll have you casting spells in no time!”
“Da-Da!” the tiny witch called out as she softly slapped her palms against his cheeks.
“No, sweetheart, that’s not —”
“I am ‘Pa-pa’, petite fleur. Can you say ‘Pa-pa’?”
“Lucius…” her mother warned.
“Well, she has to call me something, witch, and I’d prefer to not confuse her when you tell her about her father. Say ‘Pa-pa’ for me and I shall fill your blanket with toys!”
“Lucius! I will NOT have you spoiling her with —”
“Pa… Pa?” the little witch mimicked.
‘You — and Scorpius — are the most brilliant children in Europe. Your ‘Pa-pa’ shall see to your instruction personally.”

The doting “Pa-pa” ignored the conflicted mother for some time, playing with the child until she drifted off from sheer exhaustion.

“I love her as if she were mine. She deserves the best of everything. She makes every day joyous for me.”
“Lucius… what does this mean? You and I…”
“I suppose I can tolerate you for a number of years for Rose’s sake.”
“You’re a prat, Lucius. An emerald-hearted prat…”

She laid her head on his shoulder and was asleep in no time. Smiling at his victories this evening, Lucius leaned back after securing Rose and let his battered body relax into slumber…

…because, despite his bravado, acting like a teenager played hell on an “old” man’s body.

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Gang Related
2 oz Alize® Red Passion liqueur
2 oz Hpnotiq® liqueur
2 oz Hennessy® cognac
Pour all three ingredients into a highball glass filled with ice cubes. Works best if you add Hennessey first, then the Alize and Hpnotiq in any order after that. Stir.

Kir, or Blanc-Cassis

1 oz Gabriel Boudier Crème de Cassis
4 oz dry white wine
Add the crème de cassis to the bottom of the glass, then top off with wine.
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