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Hidden in Plain Sight	By : Katay Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 17098 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: The poem is mine. Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 8:

September 3^rd, 1999

�George?
Anyone home?� Hermione called out to the seemingly
deserted flat. She generally brought soup over to George�s once a month, just
to keep up with him and make sure he was staying afloat. After Fred had died,
George had tail spun into depression and Hermione had more than once caught him
eyeing the balcony of his flat with more than interest in the scenery. She was
worried about him to say the least. She wasn�t sure how to handle it, but also
knew that the Weasleys wouldn�t be able to handle
another death or tragedy in the family. With Percy back in the fold, the family
had begun to heal itself, but George was left without his normal coping
mechanism and for the first time in his life was having to learn how to be alone.

Hermione
could relate to that. She was an only child, and even with Ron and Harry she
was often the odd-woman out. Therefore, she took it upon herself to check in on
George every so often, just to ensure that he was alright.

She
glanced around the parlour room and noticing the
light on, she walked into the kitchen. She set the miniature crock-pot on the
stove and placed her autumn coat on one of the kitchen chairs. She tugged her
oxford polo to straighten it out and stepped out of her clogs; padding around
in her fuzzy socks and jeans was the norm for her.

Glancing
around again and calling out for George once more, she wandered into the back
area of the flat, where George�s bed and bathroom were along with Fred�s old
room. Hermione had tried to persuade him to move out, but she couldn�t convince
him to leave the last of Fred�s memory behind.

She
knocked on George�s door and not hearing an answer, opened it softly. �George?�
she called out softly. She felt a slight breeze and noticed the drapes shifting
in the wind from the open balcony doors. Gasping slightly, she hurried across
the room. She heard a crinkle of paper and stopped, bent down and picked up a
piece of parchment with a scribbled poem on it �

Droplets of water

Fall like rain.

They twist and slide

Along the roundness of my
cheek.

Droplets of water

Reflecting the inner soul,

The sadness,

The madness within.

Droplets of water

Leaking ou;t

Attempting to

Purge away the pain.

Droplets of water

Pour out.

An inner attempt to

Purge the agony and ache.

Droplets of water

Enclose the

Weary face and eyes

Hiding the need to say,
�Help.�

Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek and slowly walked out the
balcony door, the parchment held loosely in her hand. She walked out onto the
marble balcony and found George Weasley curled into fetal position in front of
Fred�s balcony door and fast asleep. His eyes were puffy and his forehead warm,
so Hermione knew that he had been crying for a while before finally drifting
off to sleep.

She drew out her wand and softly lifted him into his bedroom onto
his bed. She prayed that this was a turning point for him. George had been
stoic for a year since Fred died, and Hermione hoped that this meant he was
finally mourning his lost twin. She tucked the parchment of what she recognized
as George�s handwriting into the side table�s drawer and slipped out of the
room.

Maneuvering her way into the kitchen, she began heating up the soup
so it would be ready any time George woke. She also began to boil some water
for a few cups of chamomile tea that she felt would come in handy for the
headache George would be sporting.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she groaned slightly and walked
over to the Floo. Flooing
her flat, she called out �Ron?� With no answer, she flooed
Harry�s flat, �Harry?�

�Hermione?� asked Harry in a puzzled tone. She didn�t normally floo him, preferring to either telephone him or simply apparate in.

�Yes. Is Ron there with you?� She hated floo
calling, it always gave her a crick in the neck.

She could see Harry glanced backwards and then flicking his eyes to
her face once more, �Er, yea � d�you
need to talk to him?�

She sighed in relief, �Oh no, I only wanted to tell him I�d be late
�cause I�m making up some soup for George here and I�m running a bit behind.
Were you two planning on eating out?�

Harry nodded, �We were about to pop over to your place to pick you
up. You don�t want to go, then?�

Hermione shook her head, curls bouncing in the flickering firelight,
�No, I think I�ll stay and eat with George tonight, he could use some company.
Night, Harry. Tell Ron I�ll see him back at the flat.� With that her head
disappeared and Harry turned back to his red-haired friend.

�Well, mate, I guess its boy�s night out!�

Ron rolled his eyes, �See she doesn�t even care anymore. I could
bloody go to a strip club and she wouldn�t notice. Wanna
try?�

Harry felt his eyes widen slightly, �Er
Ron, you do remember I�m dating your sister, right? I don�t think she�d
appreciate that. Why don�t we just go to the pub?�

Ron shrugged and the two popped away.

**

Back at George�s, Hermione was setting out place-mats and soup bowls
for the two of them. She heard a rustling in the bedroom and knew that George
would soon be out and ready for food. Ladling out the soup into the bowls, she
levitated them onto the table and began to pour the tea. There was nothing she
liked more than hearty potato chowder with chamomile tea.

Hearing a soft grunt from behind her, she turned and smiled at the
sleepy-eyed burly red-head. She motioned to the table and sat down without
waiting. She knew he wouldn�t be ready to talk, but she would be there
nonetheless, just in case he was.

He shuffled over to the table and sat down at the chair, avoiding
her eyes. He dug into the soup eating a few large mouthfuls before realizing
how hot it was. Hermione watched under her eyelashes as he scrambled for the
mug next to his placemat and gulped down the even hotter tea. She stifled a
giggle when she saw him wince and looked away quickly when he put down the mug,
scowling.

�Who in their right mind would put two scalding hot dishes together
and not remember something to cool it off.� He grumbled, getting up to look for
a pitcher of water and his wand to heal his burnt taste-buds.

Hermione started laughing, �I never did understand why Mrs. Weasley
had so many children, all those hotheads in one house.� George looked back at
her sheepishly. She grinned up at him, �Plus I know potato is your favorite,
whether you�ll admit it or not, even if it doesn�t have any meat in it. And I
thought the chamomile would do you good, something to
soothe a raw throat?�

George sat back down and looked at her with gloomy eyes, �Soothing is
good. I�ve denied for too long, but I�m not ready to talk �bout it Hermione, if
that�s ok.�

She waved her hand at him, �Of course it is. Never said I needed a
story. Everyone�s entitled to a good cry once in a while. Hell, I�ve been a
regular rain cloud the past month.� She glanced over at the stocky, one-eared
man and wondered how he still managed to pull off being nonchalantly handsome. She
knew girls were still after him, and while she thought of him as a brother, she
could see the appeal of the former beater.

�A rain cloud, eh?� George took a sip of water, �What�s up? Ron being an arse again? Need to
fire him for you?�

George stared at the witch across from him. She was in casual
comfort like always, not one to wear anything beyond what was necessary; she
had an oversized oxford button-up on with straight-leg jeans and her favorite
fluffy socks. Her hair was pulled up into a knot and her face was devoid of
make-up, the maturity showing through. He couldn�t understand what she saw in
Ron, but figured that it was up to the two of them to decide things. He knew
that they had practically been shoved at each other, and while there may have
been a spark or two, he was surprised it hadn�t shriveled up by now.

Hermione rolled her eyes, �No, don�t you dare. He�d never forgive me
for one. I don�t know, we�re just a little strained,
go figure. I can�t tell what he wants. I know he wants to make us work, but it
almost seems like he feels we don�t need to work at it, that it will just come.
Even I know relationships don�t work like that.�

George nodded, �Ron�s a right prat. You
knew that going in. He�ll learn if you tell him though.� He waved his spoon at
her, �My advice, shag him stupid and then tell him you want to work on the
relationship, after. He�ll be susceptible to anything then.�

Hermione grinned, �You know that might just work.� They set back
into their potato soup and launched into a winded discussion on how to limit a Wingardium Leviosa to an
object other than a carpet or a broom.

At the end as they were cleaning up the kitchen and drying off the
dishes manually, Hermione felt that magicking them always left streaks, George
brought up working with Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione shrugged, �I mean, he�s Malfoy. It�s
not like I can get out of the job, but he isn�t horrid either. He�s obviously
had a bad time of it, with his family fleeing to France and everyone in Britain hating
him.� She glanced back at George�s understanding face, �He didn�t fight in the
final battle and ultimate Narcissa saved Harry, so the Ministry really had no
grounds unfortunately.�

�You could have sent him away, you know,� commented George quietly.

Hermione paused, staring out the window above the sink, and replied
softly, �I know. He didn�t, couldn�t do anything. He was as much a prisoner as I
was. The old witch was dead by then and I honestly just wanted to ignore what
had happened.� She took a deep breath, �But we�re learning to coexist. I learn
about pureblooded culture and I make sure he learns about mine. It�s only for a
year or so. If I can handle Harry and Ron through six years of school, I can
handle Lucius Malfoy for one year of work.�

George grinned at Hermione�s back and wondered how many times he
would get to remind her of her words before she was free of the idiot
pureblood.

**

Ron drunkenly stumbled into his and Hermione�s flat around 2am,
faltering slightly on his own feet. He flipped the muggle
light switch on, a feature he rather enjoyed compared to the flickering quality
of Lumos, and noticed a very asleep, but nearly nude
Hermione curled up on the couch. He couldn�t help but groan slightly at the
sight of her bared flesh in the silk gown that she favored for sleep. Had he
not had a good snogging with that blonde at the bar,
after Harry left, he probably would have been on top of the sleeping witch in
moments.

He didn�t notice the make-up present on her face, showing that
perhaps an effort had been made just for him. He didn�t notice the up-do of her
usually unkempt hair, nor did he notice the smell of his favorite perfume for
her. He was too inebriated and self-pitying to see the efforts she was putting
forth. He would see later that it was a time of mixed signals � really a
relationship of mixed or missed signals.

As it was, he flicked the lights off and shuffled into the bedroom,
not even bothering to get his girlfriend a blanket in his hazy desire for
sleep.

**

September 25^th,
2017

�You realize my dear that the announcements are going to be made
within the next two months. We aren�t going to be able to hide any longer.�
Lucius and Hermione were curled up on the large duvet, in front of a roaring
fire, nursing glasses of firewhiskey.

Hermione sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, �I know, I
know. I just � it�s not like we�ve really hidden it. I mean, purposely not told
people � yes; but, if someone does ask, it�s not like we lie.�

Lucius smirked and Hermione swatted his arm, feeling his lips move
against her hair. He drawled, �My dear, it�s not as though we can live in
solitude forever. It isn�t fair to those who do know to have to keep it a
secret from those who don�t.� He massaged her right bicep with his large hand.
�Unless you don�t want to admit it because you�re scared of what people will
think. Of what they�ll say and do to you �� He held his breath slightly.

Hermione turned towards him, �Lucius, you know that isn�t true. Yes,
I care what Harry and Ron think, but that�s it! Everyone else can be damned.
Bill and Fleur accepted us for what it was, and if everyone else is my friend,
they will too. The day Bill found out and did nothing was the day I stopped
caring. I love you, Lucius Malfoy, whether you choose to believe it or not.�
She leaned up and kissed him soundly on the lips.

A motion he deepened, pulling her towards him and reveling in the
feel of her still supple body against his own. She pulled back slightly, eyes
glazed, �How is it that you still kiss me breathless after all these years?�

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, �I still can�t believe
we have what we do. Who would have imagined? Well, I suppose what comes, comes.
As long as you don�t denounce me in front of everyone, we�ll be fine.� He
grinned to show her he was teasing.

She punched him on the arm, �Hey, you. I don�t see what you�re
worried about. I�m the one who should be worried. Women still swoon over you, I�m just a frumpy old nobody.� She pouted out her lower
lip, the fact that women still liked to chase her man ruffled her feathers.

His eyes darkened, �Do you know what I see when I look at you my
love?� She shook her head, �I see hair the color of caramel and honey with
hints of chocolate and well some white chocolate too running through.� He avoided
her indignant smack, �I see eyes the color of soothing peach tea, ready to be
at my side whenever I should need them. I see a caring face, willing to take
care of anyone in need of a little help. I see a beautiful, fit body, perfectly
suited for my own desires. Breasts that fill up my hands,� he took one in each
and squeezed lightly, Hermione�s head rolling slightly, �hips that flare out
and let me have purchase when I�m slamming into your tight heat.� He ran his
hands down her torso and hips, causing her to shiver slightly. �Thighs that are as muscular today as they were when you were in
your twenties, ready to clench me to your body at a moment�s notice.� He ran
his hands down her legs and then stopped.

He brought his hand up to her chin and pulled it so she was looking
straight into his eyes, �But most of all, my witch, I see a heart,� he placed
his hand just below her collarbone, over her heart, �a heart that beats just
for me. A heart that was willing to put prejudice aside and accept new growth.
A heart that gave me a second chance at love, something I never thought would
happen.�

Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek and raised a palm up to Lucuis� own firm cheek, �Oh my husband, you are too much.
How did I ever end up with you?�

A voice drawled from the doorway, �As poignant as this scene is �
that question seems to be a lovely place to start with explanations.�

**

September 8^th, 1999

Hermione had just signed into the medi-wizard�s
office and was being led to a private curtain when she heard a slight sobbing
from another examination curtain. She flicked her head towards it and strained
her ears, but couldn�t hear anything.

�Miss Granger, right this way please,� said the young trainee who
had led her in. The woman was probably a year or so older than herself and was
wearing the traditional green robes of healers.

Hermione nodded and sat behind the curtain, changing out of her
midnight blue work robes and dress into the ward robe and settling into the
bed. She kicked off her blue pumps and sighed in relief. Her feet ached from
all the standing she�d been doing at the meetings, and she couldn�t wait until
she wasn�t an intern and actually merited a chair at the table � despite the
fact that she was the one doing all the work. Groaning, she lay back into the
familiar healer�s bed and looked up at the ceiling.

She was once again in for a meeting about the curse Dolohov had hit her with in the fourth year. She found that
her cramps had been particularly bad during her period and she wondered if it
might have something to do with it. However, the Healers had been so elated at
finding someone who had survived the curse she had been coerced into a monthly
check-up so they could examine her torso.

She heard a curtain be pulled back slightly and the sniffling became
a little louder, �I�m sorry Miss Brown, but the test results don�t lie. You�re
pregnant.�

The young healer that cam back to check on the famous Miss Granger,
the one she read about in all the Prophet articles, found her on the bed in a
dead faint.
- 7
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- 9
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Hidden in Plain Sight