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The Kill Shot	By : Lizski Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 12741 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own the world of Harry Potter, or the characters – I just borrow them on occasion. I’m most definitely not making any money off this.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter Eight

Twenty minutes later Hermione was in the library, dressed in a flattering pair of jeans, a t‑shirt, and a trim-cut fleece pullover. Comfortable but not shapeless. Yes, she admitted to herself, Lucius’ comment about my “comfortable clothing” pricked my ego.

She was surprised to see the wing chairs had been pushed apart and a large battered leather sofa placed between them, a large coffee table in front of the couch. Lucius was dressed as he had been for the visit with Draco, minus his travelling cloak, and was sitting on the sofa, his legs stretched out on the cushions. Hermione noticed he already had a large snifter of brandy in his hands.

Lucius saw her glance and nodded at his drink. “I always keep a supply of stimulant handy, in case I see a snake.” He reached for his silver snake-head cane, which had been leaning against the couch, and pointed the top of it at her. “Which I also keep handy.” He smiled lazily at her.

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle. “W.C. Fields? Don’t tell me he was a wizard, too,” she replied, unable to keep the smile off her face.

“Of course he was. You can’t come by eccentricity like that without wizarding blood,” Lucius replied smugly, and took a healthy swallow of his brandy.

Hermione decided to get a scotch before she sat down in her wing chair. She also thought something to eat might be a good idea. Almost immediately a tray arrived on the table in front of the couch, laden with bowls of nuts and fruit, chips and salsa, and platters of cheese, meat, and crackers. She took a handful of cashews and sat down, sipping her drink.

“I was a terrible father,” Lucius began, and Hermione almost choked on a cashew. “I never spent much time with Draco. I didn’t really want to. As a child, he was whiny and demanding. And the time I did spend with him was spent teaching him how to act like a Malfoy.” The last few words were spoken in tones of derision. Uncertain how to react, Hermione remained quiet.

“Narcissa, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of him and wanted him around her all the time. In hindsight, I should have spent more time with him. Been more tolerant. Maybe he wouldn’t have felt such a driving need to please me. I don’t know.” Lucius’ eyes were directed at his brandy glass, but it was clear he was seeing something far beyond the room. “What was he like at school?” the wizard asked suddenly.

“Ah –” Hermione stalled for time. Does he want the truth? “He was an obnoxious prat; spoiled and entitled.” She watched Lucius’ face for a reaction, but other than a slight nod there was nothing. “The first couple of years I knew him I didn’t think he had an original thought in his head. Everything he said was ‘My father thinks’ this and ‘My father says’ that. To us it seemed like his world revolved around you. And the expensive presents only reinforced that,” she added.

“Ironic,” Lucius murmured. “He would have given his wand to spend time with me then, and I couldn’t be bothered. It was much easier to throw a bunch of Galleons his way. I only ever showed up at Hogwarts to keep an eye on my own interests. Seeing Draco was secondary. Now he has no idea who I am.” He looked at Hermione and smirked. “He thinks I’m just some guy who should be your boyfriend and who came with you to visit him today. And some guy who brought him presents.” His face became very solemn. “‘Father’ is just a name to him, like Hermione or Lucinda. I guess it’s not much different from when he was in school,” he said dourly.

“I don’t think so,” Hermione replied, thinking back on the afternoon. “He called you ‘Daddy’ at one point.” Although it seemed to freak the hell out of both of you when he did.

“Yes. That.” Lucius took another long swallow of his brandy. “I hope you don’t mind me having the couch brought in here. There was plenty of room for it, and sometimes I find a couch more comfortable.”

Nice change of subject, there, Lucius. Clearly that “Daddy” moment is a sore spot of some sort. I guess I’ll leave that alone for now. “No, it’s fine. It looks comfortable, and if there were ever more than two people in this room we’d need someplace for them to sit.”

“What was your childhood like?” Lucius asked.

I’ll become dizzy if he keeps changing subjects like this, she thought wryly. “Normal, I guess. I was an only child, and my parents were both dentists, so I spent a lot of time on my own. I liked it, though. I’d read about things in books and try them – everything from science experiments to cooking to building rubber-band airplanes.” Lucius had a blank look on his face, and Hermione didn’t feel like explaining airplanes, models, rubber bands, or how the things managed to fly through the air. “I once read a book about someone who had lived their entire life in the London Underground. It sounded like fun, so I took a bus into London, bought a week’s pass, and took to riding the Tube – the trains that run under the ground,” she added in case Lucius didn’t know what she was talking about, and he nodded in understanding. “Only at the end of the first day did I realize my parents would have no idea where I was, and I had forgotten to leave them a note. I was certain they would be worried sick, so I took a train home.” She paused, remembering the adventure quite clearly. “Once I got home I discovered they had gone off to some dental conference and they had forgotten to tell me about it. Of course, I didn’t know it immediately. I came home and the house was cold and dark, and I was frantic. I had to call about ten different people before I found out where they were.” She smiled at the memory. “When my parents returned home they were very apologetic – partially because they had forgotten to tell me, but mostly because they had ruined my adventure on the Tube.”

“Did you spend a lot time with them?” Lucius asked curiously.

“Oh, yeah. When they weren’t working – and they worked a lot; they loved their work – we did all sorts of things together. Games, impromptu picnics, acting scenes out of books, all sorts of stuff. My father and I took a karate class together for a couple of years before I left for Hogwarts, and my mom and I took a disastrous pottery class together.” She smiled at the memory of her lump of clay flying off the potter’s wheel and striking her mom in the face. Hermione and her mother had both laughed so hard at the incident they were asked to “compose themselves or leave”. They had left. She laughed now, savoring the memory before explaining it to Lucius.

“And your mother wasn’t upset with you?” he asked, slightly mystified.

“No. Neither of us could get the hang of the potter’s wheel; the best thing either of us turned out was a wobbly vase that leaked every time you put water in it. But we had fun together, laughing at our respective inabilities to follow the teacher’s instructions. And that was the point – we spent time together and built happy memories. Years later, all either of us had to do was look at the lopsided vase – we kept it, of course – and we’d laugh together.” She smiled again at the memory of the ugly vase.

“Are you still close with your parents?”

Hermione took another sip of her scotch. “No. They, uh, they were killed by a drunk driver during my 6^th year. They were coming back from an ‘adventure weekend’ together and their car was struck head-on. They both died instantly.” It was her turn to look into the fire, remembering the day Albus Dumbledore had summoned her to break the news. “I’m just thankful they died together. I can’t imagine one living without the other. They were so in love, and they shared everything; they even shared death together.” She paused, looking at Lucius. “I think they were very lucky that way,” she added quietly.

“I’m sorry to hear it. But you have good memories of them.” It was a statement, not a question. “Did it ever bother them that you didn’t become a, ah, what was it they did?”

“A dentist? Merlin, no! They knew when I got my Hogwarts letter that I was following a totally different path from them. Not that they would have expected me to become a dentist had I not been a witch. They would have been happy with whatever I did, as long as I was happy. When it became obvious I was in my element at Hogwarts, they were thrilled for me. My parents frequently told me they didn’t care what I grew up to be, as long as I grew up to be happy.”

“Happy.” Lucius said it as though it was a word he had never heard before. “But they expected you to have children, didn’t they?” he asked, still mystified.

“Well, I don’t think they wanted me to have kids while I was still in school.” She smiled at the thought. “But again, it was always one of those things that was up to me; if I wanted kids they would have been happy grandparents, but if I didn’t, they wouldn’t have been devastated. Same thing with marriage – they wouldn’t have pressed me one way or another, as long as I was happy. Not that they were worried about me getting married right away,” she added.

“No? Most wizards and witches marry as soon as they get out of school – often ,o their classmates or housemates.”

Hermione snorted with laughter. “No. Muggles, well, some Muggles get married right out of school, but many don’t. My parents wouldn’t have expected me to get married right after I graduated. As for my classmates, I had a few friends while I was at school, but no one I was ever serious about. Even Viktor –” She stopped.

“Ah, yes, Krum. I never understood what you saw in him. Muscles and fame, but not much between the ears,” Lucius commented drily.

What? “You mean to tell me you actually gave some thought to my relationship with Viktor Krum?” Her voice was louder than she had anticipated, but Lucius’ comment was so unexpected.

“Of course. Viktor was a potential Death Eater; it was necessary to keep an eye on him. And I am curious,” Lucius’ voice became silky, “what was the attraction? You don’t strike me as the type of woman who becomes involved with someone simply because of his celebrity status.”

“I’m not. I didn’t. I, ah, he is smarter than he let on. And he was very good looking. And he wasn’t as silly as the other boys at school.” Hermione felt both defensive and ridiculous.

Lucius smirked. “I can’t imagine the ‘boys’ – as you call them – at Hogwarts could have held your interest for long.”

Hermione smirked back at him. “And why are you so interested in my love life?” she asked tartly.

“Because I don’t want to talk about serious topics. But I want to talk. And it amuses me.” He smiled. “And I want to know how close an eye I have to keep on Severus when he comes to visit.” Lucius’ smile became a smirk as Hermione felt herself blush. “Ah. Got you there. So tell me, my dear, what, exactly is – or was – your relationship with your Potions Master of questionable allegiances? Certainly he was far more interesting than the ‘boys’ you knew.”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk about it,” Hermione responded.

“Aha! So Severus is a significant topic. I always had a feeling that wily bastard slept with his students. I just assumed he limited himself to Slytherins,” Lucius sneered, but his tone lacked malice.

Hermione’s face was burning. “I did not sleep with him,” she responded hotly. “He may very well have slept with every other girl in Hogwarts – although I doubt it. If he wanted to be a lothario, he might have wanted to familiarize himself with shampoo first.”

Lucius burst out laughing, speaking only when he had his laughter under control. “So you paid attention to Severus’ hygiene, I take it.” The wizard’s grey eyes danced with suppressed laughter.

Hermione threw a cashew at him, barely missing his brandy snifter. “Look,” she said with mock severity, “I’m not asking you about your love life –”

“Good. Because there is embarrassingly little to talk about,” Lucius responded calmly.

“’Embarrassingly little’?” Hermione giggled. “I didn’t realize we knew each other well enough for you to be making such admissions.” She smirked playfully.

Lucius located the errant cashew and deliberately ate it. “Hermione. I am simply talking about my lack of encounters with women in the recent past. I am not suggesting anything about, ah –”

“The size of your broomstick?” Hermione grinned.

“I believe we were talking about you. However, if you are interested in my, ah, ‘broomstick’ – you were the one who brought it up,” he added as Hermione blushed and laughed nervously. “If you want first-hand knowledge, I’d be more than happy to oblige you.” He fixed her with a serious stare before winking. “However, if you’d rather stay on the slightly more removed topic of your interest in Severus, I can resign myself to that. For now.”

“I don’t want to talk about Snape,” Hermione reiterated, still blushing at the turn the conversation had taken.

“Good. I don’t either. Let’s talk about you.” Lucius paused. “What would it take for you to sleep with me?” he leered.

Hermione hadn’t thought she could blush more, but she was feeling reckless. It was probably the scotch. “Not much. Just a full Gringott’s vault,” she replied with a teasing smile.

Lucius swung his feet off the couch and moved to stand up. “That’s it? Let me find some parchment and a quill. You could have the key in an hour or so.” He smirked triumphantly.

“You’d have to get Ministry approval to do that, and then they’d ask why, and you’d probably end up back in Azkaban, or under the supervision of your old friend Snape. And it would probably cost you quite a bit more to get him to sleep with you.” Hermione smirked back at him. “And you’d have to work through all the buttons on his underwear.”

Lucius chuckled and inclined his head in acknowledgement of defeat. “I like you. I really like you.” His grey eyes sought hers. “And I can assure you that I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve said that to and actually meant it. You are one of them. And I’ve still got a few fingers left,” he quipped, but his eyes were serious.

Hermione smiled. “I’m flattered. And I have to admit, you’re growing on me. You are definitely different from who I had imagined you to be.”

The wizard raised his hands in mock self-defense. “I don’t want to know what you thought of me a week ago. Or a year ago.”

Hermione grinned. “Let’s just say there was plenty of room for improvement.”

Lucius was about to respond when an owl flew into the room. It dropped a scroll in Hermione’s lap and then perched on the cashew dish, delicately selecting nuts. Hermione unrolled the parchment at once.

Hermione –

Your visit to St. Mungo’s with Lucius did not go unnoticed. Small article in theDaily Prophettomorrow to reiterate terms of Lucius’ monitored release. Please respond via this owl to let me know all is well and Lucius is under control. Owl me at any time if you have any problems of any sort.

– K. Shacklebolt

Hermione got up and went to the desk to find a quill.

“Problems?” Lucius asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“Nope. Just the Ministry letting me know you and I were spotted holding hands in St. Mungo’s. I think they want to make sure you haven’t put me under the Imperius curse without anyone finding out.” She smirked. “As if.”

“Oh? You don’t think I could put you under the Imperius curse?” Lucius’ voice held the note of a challenge.

“You probably could. If the Ministry wasn’t tracking every single spell that comes out of your wand, that is. “

It was Lucius’ turn to smirk. “I don’t envy the poor fool who has that job. How many times in a row can you record ‘Incendio’ before your quill kills itself out of boredom?”

Hermione ignored him and scribbled out a quick reply.

All is well here. Lucius had a bit of a shock seeing Draco for the first time, but he’ll be going back regularly. Lucius is completely under control. Will owl if there are problems. S. Snape will be here tomorrow to confirm all.

– Hermione

She gave the scroll back to the owl, who looked a little indignant at having his snack interrupted but flew off immediately.

Hermione decided to refill her scotch before she sat down, and looked at Lucius’ brandy. “More while I’m up?”

“Sure. Thank you. And are you going to join me on the couch?” Lucius pointed invitingly to the end of the couch.

“Why would I do that?” Hermione rejoined.

“Because then you can tell me why you held my hand in public. While you hold my hand in private,” he smiled winningly.

Hermione shook her head as she refilled their glasses, but sat down on the couch. Lucius sat up and moved closer to her, extending his hand. The witch smiled and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. What the hell am I doing? What the hell is he doing? Why am I analyzing this? Oh, Circe. I’ll just go with it.

“So,” the wizard prodded, “why did you hold my hand at the hospital today?”

“For the record,” Hermione replied, “you grabbed my hand. I just didn’t snatch it back.”

“Which means you held my hand,” he teased.

“And you held mine. Care to explain why?”

“You first.”

“Nope,” she shot back. “You first. You took my hand, if you recall.”

The blond pretended to think for a few moments. “Let’s see. Ah. Oh. I don’t know. Convicted Death Eater out in public with a beautiful woman for the first time since he was arrested. Said aforementioned former Death Eater is the target of nasty slurs while on the way to visit his son who has been cursed with Merlin-knows-what spell.” He paused and sighed, the sarcasm gone. “Mercury’s wings. I just wanted to touch you. Holding your hand seemed the most appropriate thing to do.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I told you the truth. So why didn’t you pull away?”

“Because I thought you needed a little reassurance.” She took a breath. “And it felt good.”

Lucius nodded seriously, then smirked. “If it feels good just to hold my hand, imagine what else these hands can do….” He trailed off, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You can’t tell me you can’t come up with a better line than that,” she retorted.

“Well,” the blond began casually, “when you have women throwing themselves at you to see your, ah, broomstick, you don’t have to practice pick-up lines too much.” He attempted to look innocent.

Hermione made an exaggerated gesture of looking around the room. “So, ah, where exactly are these women lining up?” She smirked. “Did you have a lot of imaginary friends growing up?”

Lucius looked a little blank and then smiled. “Well, just because the women aren’t exactly flocking to my door –”

“My door,” Hermione corrected quickly.

“Your door,” he conceded and then smiled. “Oh, Thor’s balls. I like you. I think you are beautiful and I find you very engaging. You make me smile. I feel as if I can relax around you. You don’t spend time with me because you want something from me.” He smiled wryly into his brandy. “Not that I have anything to give you.”

That’s not entirely true, Hermione thought. Only you know why you killed Voldemort. I want to know why. Not that it matters, I guess, but I’m dying to know. And sometime I’ll ask you, and you’ll tell me. But tonight’s not the night.

Unaware of Hermione’s thoughts, Lucius took a very long swallow of his brandy and continued speaking. “That’s partially true. I mean, it’s true you are beautiful and engaging. And you do make me smile. And I don’t have anything to give you.” He gave a small smile. “But I was scared, too. I kept wondering how it would be if Draco didn’t remember me. And then I worried how it would be if Draco did remember me. And I didn’t know if I could face him – whether he remembered me or not. I did send him away. He wanted to be with me that night, and I wanted him as far away as possible. I did this to him. Not that I Obliviated him, but I sent him away. Maybe I could have protected him if he’d been with me.” He paused and took another drink. He suddenly decided he was going to get drunk tonight. “You’re right. I took your hand because I couldn’t be alone. I needed to know I wasn’t alone.”

“You weren’t. You aren’t,” she added softly.

He nodded slowly. He turned to look at her. “Do you know what motivates me? What drives me?”

Hermione wasn’t immediately certain whether this was a question he wanted her to answer, but when he continued to look at her expectantly, she pondered the question. The answer was suddenly obvious. In fact, it was carved above the fireplace. “Yes, I think I do. You are driven by your family. Your heritage; the family line.”

The wizard didn’t look surprised but merely nodded. “Yes. The family line,” he mused, almost to himself. “Funny that you recognize it so clearly, and no one else ever has. Everyone – Voldemort, the Ministry, everyone – has always assumed I was motivated by money and power. And influence.” He gave an ironic smile and took another swallow of his brandy. “Money, power, and influence are all nice. Don’t get me wrong. I’d certainly rather be rich than poor. But it means nothing if the bloodline ends.”

“‘Bloodline’?” She looked at him sharply.

He waved off her look. “Not bloodline as in pure blood. There’s no such thing, anyway,” he replied.

“‘No such thing’?” Hermione puzzled, and looked at his nearly-empty brandy glass. Was he drunk?

Lucius noticed her glance and chuckled. “I’m not drunk. Not much, at least. ‘Pure blood’ is a myth. It has been for centuries. If it ever existed at all. And truthfully, I don’t believe it ever did.”

Hermione took a sip of her scotch to hide her surprise. Who is this person? Polyjuice? she wondered frantically.

Lucius smiled at her reaction. “Don’t look so concerned. I am me. Blood purity is just a rallying cry for wizards and witches who feel they need to justify their place in society. Me? I can trace my family line back to Godvynus Malefoi, born in 957. And yes,” he gave a proud smile, “I have documents dating back that far.” He paused, looking a bit puzzled and then frowned. “Actually, technically, you have them. Bloody hell. There are copies, of course, but the originals –”

“Are all yours. I’m assuming they are somewhere in this monolith of a house – and you know where they are, I presume,” she looked at him questioningly, and he nodded. “I can safely assure you I have no desire to keep them from you. I’d be interested, however, in seeing them sometime. Just out of curiosity. That’s an impressive lineage, and if it’s complete, well, it’s not as though you see something like that every day.”

“Thank you. I do know where they are, and it would be a pleasure to show them to you. There’s a scroll around here somewhere with an abbreviated family tree,” he waved his brandy glass in the general direction of the shelves in the library, “but the original documents are elsewhere. In a chamber off the Portrait Hall,” he added, not wanting her to think he was being secretive. “Thank you for letting me have them. It never occurred to me—“ he stopped, not wanting to go further down that path.

Hermione nodded solemnly. “Of course. I wouldn’t have thought to keep them; they belong to you and your family.”

He nodded again. “Thank you for that. There are many so-called ‘old’ wizarding families that can’t legitimately trace their family back more than a few centuries or so, and for them, the notion of ‘blood purity’ is their way of justifying an elevated social standing.” He smirked. “I will show you my family history. I think you’ll be quite surprised. The family tree has more kinks, twisted branches and, ah,” he colored slightly, “anomalies than most. And I don’t mean Muggles – there are plenty of them scattered in there, too,” he added hastily. “But, ah, you’ll have to see it to see what I mean. Anyway, blood purity is nothing more than a standard for conservative wizards and witches who would rather become more and more inbred than allow ‘outsiders’ into their families.”

Hermione stared at him before finally speaking. “Are you serious? I thought you were the number one proponent of this so-called blood purity.” Draco always thought you were, at least.

“I am serious. And I’m also serious that it is a catch-phrase to unite otherwise fractious witches and wizards. I’m not interested in blood purity – I know how pure my blood is. I’m interested in preserving my family line. Many are willing to see that as a larger desire for blood purity in the wizarding world. I see it as supreme self-preservation. I want to live long enough to know that I have grandchildren and that the Malfoy name lives on. That’s not exactly blood purity, although it is often seen that way. I am concerned with my family line, not with blood purity.” He took another sip of his brandy. “Self-preservation frequently translates into money and power.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it results in losing everything. This isn’t the first time the Manor has been lost. We’ve always gotten it back, eventually.”

Hermione wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Who knows what’ll happen to the Manor in the future. Maybe I’ll have kids. More likely, I won’t. Maybe Draco will get better and he’ll have kids. Maybe Lucius will have more kids – although I don’t see how that’s going to happen. She took another swallow of her scotch, aware that she was still holding hands with Lucius. She looked down at their clasped hands. His touch was light and yet solid. He wasn’t holding on for dear life, yet he wasn’t letting go. Interesting. And his next question caught her completely off guard.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“What?” Her voice was louder than she had expected, and she took another drink of her scotch, feeling the pleasant warmth spread through her body.

Lucius smirked. “You heard me. Have you ever been in love?” he repeated.

Hermione looked at him. “Have you?” she responded.

“I asked first. But the answer is no. Have you?”

“’No’? How – why not?” she blurted out.

“Why not? Because I hadn’t ever met anyone who was worthy.”

Hermione considered his phrasing, wondering if he had his tense right.

“No,” he continued, “I didn’t love Narcissa. And she didn’t love me. She liked my name, she liked my house. She loved the family vaults at Gringotts and all the baubles that could be purchased with the contents of those vaults. She might have tolerated me at one point, although I don’t think that lasted much beyond our wedding. As for me? I endured her. She was silly, vain, vapid and catty. But she gave me an heir.” He took another drink and looked briefly at his glass. I’ll need a refill soon. And yet I have her hand and I don’t really want to let go. Maybe she’ll let me hold her hand again when I come back with more drinks. She’s such a soothing presence. “In hindsight, I probably should have pressed the practice of ‘an heir and a spare’ as done by Muggle nobles intent on keeping their family lines intact, but at the time I didn’t think it was necessary. And the task would have been monumental, to say the least.” He paused. “I answered. Now you.”

“No. I mean, no, I’ve never been in love. I’ve had friends, people I cared about, crushes even. But I’ve never been in love. Not even the adolescent frenzy of hormones that masquerades as love.” She smiled in memory. “Not that I didn’t have a hormonal moment or two, but I never thought it was love.”

“Indeed.” Lucius’ eyebrows rose in question, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Hermione grinned, heat rushing to her face. “Indeed. And I’m not going to tell you about it! It’s none of your damn business.”

He smirked in returned, “You’re right. I don’t want to hear about your sweaty grapplings with inexperienced boys. It would just make me jealous.”

“Oh, please. You’ve got to work on your lines. They’re terrible.”

“That wasn’t a line. I’m serious. I don’t even want to imagine some boy pawing at you. But I’m curious in the abstract. What – who was the focus of these hormonal moments? A boy? Or a man? You don’t seem like you’d have the patience for a boy.”

Hermione eyed the wizard, painfully aware that she was still holding his hand. “Fine. It was a man. And not Viktor – he was more a boy than a man, and ‘paw’ is an understatement. But I’m not giving you any more than that.”

“Please, do not tell me you had fantasies about that Lockhart buffoon.”

She wondered if it was possible for her cheeks to grow redder than they already were. “Only briefly. You know. Until he opened his mouth. All teeth, no brains.” She shook her head in memory. That crush had died hard and fast.

“Thank Merlin for that,” Lucius replied dryly. And then a thought struck him. “Mercury’s wings,” he groaned. “Our old friend Severus?” I’ve got to know.

Hermione smiled enigmatically. “I refuse to answer on the grounds that I may incriminate myself. Besides, you asked me about him already. And I’m still not talking.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, but said nothing for moment. What in Hades did she mean by that? Was that a yes or a no?

“Enough about my love life. Or lack thereof. I’m only 19. I’ve got plenty of time to find my true love –”

“I understand,” he cut her off. “I’m asking too many personal questions. But since I’ve already pressed my luck, can I ask one more personal question?”

Hermione lips curved into a smile. Why is he so damned easy to talk to? “Sure. As long as I have the right to refuse to answer.”

“Of course you do. But tell me, why are you here? Tonight, I mean.” He lifted up their clasped hands, his face serious.

“Uh. Where else would I be? Hiding in my bedroom while you drink all the brandy? I don’t think so.” She smiled, but Lucius merely continued to look at her curiously. “I thought you’d want the company tonight. And I’m discovering that I enjoy your company,” she added.

Genuine surprise flickered across Lucius’ face but Hermione continued. “Generally, I’d rather spend my evenings with a good book than with most of the people I’ve ever met. Most people aren’t able to carry on an intelligent conversation, and even fewer seem to be able to understand the value of companionable silence. You are able to do both. Very rare in a male,” she added with a smirk.

“Mr. Potter?“ he asked tentatively.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? If he isn’t blathering about how he saved the world, he’s giving everyone within earshot a blow-by-blow description of the latest Quidditch match. And when he does shut up, he stares blankly at anyone who tries to discuss anything outside the very narrow scope of his life. If you aren’t telling him how great he is, he’s not interested in what you have to say. And thinking? He’s not a big fan of the activity.”

“Wow,” Lucius responded. “Do I detect some animosity there?”

“Not really. I like Harry. We’ve been friends forever. But is he someone I actively seek out for companionship? No. Not even if I could get through the hordes of girls throwing themselves at him. He’s entertaining for very short periods of time, but that’s about it. Again, I’d rather read.”

“If I may ask, what about Viktor?”

Hermione smiled. Ah, my dear man, you are transparent. Amusing, but transparent. Don’t worry, you don’t have any competition. Besides, we’ve been over Viktor. “Viktor was actually capable of companionable silence.” She chuckled. “He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but when he did speak, it wasn’t about Quidditch, and he wasn’t looking for reassurance about how wonderful he was. If he needed that, he could have just read his piles of fan mail. He was comfortable in his own skin, and that was refreshing.”

“And yet it didn’t last,” Lucius prompted.

Hermione smirked. Transparent. Totally transparent. “Well, we grew apart. He wanted to become a Death Eater, I didn’t.” Lucius’ face froze and Hermione grinned. “I’m kidding. It lasted for a while, and we had fun. But long distance relationships are tough, and we were moving in totally different directions. He had a career flying around on a broomstick and I wanted to continue my studies. We just sort of drifted apart.”

“Ah.”

Hermione finished her scotch and put the glass down on the table in front of her. “I am a fairly solitary person. I’m happy in my own head. But that doesn’t mean I like being alone all the time. I’m just selective about who I like spending time with.”

Lucius inclined his head. “I will take that as a compliment. And it should go without saying that I enjoy your company immensely. Like you, in my life I have had very few encounters with people who have actually, ah, interested me. But you, Miss Hermione Granger, you have captivated me. You intrigue me.” He looked into her eyes. “And I like that feeling. It’s a new one for me, and I like it.” He squeezed her hand.

Hermione smiled. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Yes,” he replied with complete candor. “But it doesn’t mean I’m not sincere.”

“No. But you’re incorrigible.”

“That’s true. In some respects.” He swallowed the last of his brandy, and gestured toward her empty glass. “Can I get you another drink?”

Hermione took a breath and considered. “No, thanks. I’d probably better head to bed here soon.”

“’Soon’. So you could have another drink. A small one,” he amended. “While I have no problem drinking alone, I prefer to have a companion. Besides, I don’t really want to be alone. If you don’t mind?”

“Oh, what the hell. Why not.” She handed Lucius her glass, suddenly feeling tired. Still, she didn’t want the evening to end. She took some grapes from the table and began munching. “Although I think I’m a little talked out; I may not be much of a conversationalist for the rest of the night.”

“That’s all right. I just like your company.” He poured the drinks, and handed Hermione her glass before he put his own on the table. “Would you like to listen to a book?”

“Listen? Oh, the audio spell. Yeah, actually. That would be great.” Hermione hadn’t used the audio spell much; it was a simple spell that read out loud any book it was directed to. She usually preferred to read rather than listen, as she took in more information that way, but it could be very relaxing to listen to a book.

Lucius returned with a dusty tome and placed it on the table in front of them. “How about a gothic romance?”

“Really? A gothic romance?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice.

“No good? You want to listen to something else?” He picked up the book.

“No – no. It’s fine. If it’s what you want to listen to. I mean, do you like gothic romances?”

He chuckled at the tone of her voice. Then he looked a little embarrassed. “Actually, ah, yes. I find them amusing. A good way to unwind – you don’t have to pay close attention to follow the plot.”

“It sounds absolutely perfect,” she smiled. Lucius Malfoy listens to gothic romances? Yet one more piece of information to file away in the “Things You Would Never Expect of a Former Death Eater” folder.

Lucius sat down on the couch, brandy snifter in hand, and swung his legs up on the couch. He moved his legs all the way to the back of the couch so there was room for Hermione to do the same. He gestured the offer and with a quick shrug, Hermione brought her feet up on the couch, one leg resting against the wizard’s.

“Audeo.” Lucius cast the spell, and the book opened and a woman’s voice began to read. Hermione settled back and listened to the tale unfold. Soon she was immersed in crumbling castles, craggy mountains, a hero with a potentially sinister past, and a clear-thinking heroine thrust into a drama spanning generations. She sipped her drink and relaxed into the couch, utterly comfortable.

Lucius studied Hermione through half-closed eyes. She’s beautiful. And not even aware of it, which makes her all the more appealing. Nothing like a woman knowing she’s beautiful to kill the natural attraction. Like Narcissa. Gods. Narcissa. I can’t even remember if she was ever beautiful, or if it was all just an act. Merlin knows she wasn’t remotely beautiful beneath the façade. Hermione is alive. Vibrant. Even when she’s half asleep. Mercury’s wings! I want to just take her in my arms. Kiss her. Undress her and kiss every inch of her. The thought of his lips on her pale skin made him groan softly, and Hermione opened her eyes.

Lucius gave her a faint smile and she returned it before stifling a yawn. “Sorry –” the book stopped reading automatically – “sorry, I think I’m falling asleep here. I’d better go to bed before I fall asleep on the couch.” She stood up, noticing that the torches on the walls had burned down and the room was now lit mainly by the fireplace. Lucius’ high cheekbones and aquiline nose were highlighted in the low light, his loose blond hair almost gold in the reflected glow from the fire. Merlin’s balls. He’s a damn fine looking man. She stopped her thoughts. I’d better go to bed. Now. Alone. And damn it, I shouldn’t be thinking about him that way. Even if he is breathtaking. Damn him.

Lucius’ voice broke into her thoughts. “It has been a long day. I would apologize for keeping you up so late, but the truth is I like being with you, and I don’t feel sorry for keeping you awake with me for an extra hour.” He smiled genially, and Hermione couldn’t help but grin in return.

“At least you’re honest,” she replied, glad that he couldn’t see her blush in the low light.

“With you? Always,” he responded, his voice sincere. “I’ll bookmark the book so we can continue where we left off, if you’d like.” He tapped the book with his wand and then returned the wand to his sleeve. “Will you allow me to escort you to your rooms?”

“You’ll protect me from all the hazards between the library and my door?” For some reason she couldn’t completely identify she felt a little shy about using the word “bedroom” in this conversation.

“Of course. You never know when the pixies might come out of the tapestries and flutter around you menacingly,” he said with a smile. The wizard stood up and came around the table to offer her his arm.

Hermione tried to fight off a smile as she took his arm and he escorted her out of the library. He kept pointing out nonexistent hazards as they descended the stairs (carnivorous wood mites, invisible dust dragons, stealth pixies, and aggressive Pygmy Puffs) and walked to her rooms. They stopped in front of her door, her arm still tucked close to his body.

Mab’s knickers. I don’t want to let go of her; I’m only going to think of her all night. Alone in my bed. My former bed. But alone. And naked. The image of her naked form in bed filled his mind. Reluctantly, he slowly relaxed his arm a bit and felt her hand slide off it. “Good night. Thank you for this evening.” He inclined his head toward her.

The events of the day flashed through Hermione’s mind, the emotions flooding through her again. Damn it, I’m going to do it. “Good night. And thank you. I enjoyed this evening.” She placed one hand on her door handle, and turned to him, leaning in quickly before she lost her nerve. Hermione placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “Good night,” she repeated, as she opened the door and stepped into her room, her heart pounding in her chest.

~~~

A/N: Heehee. These two are stubborn; I've been rooting for some smut for a couple of chapters, but they aren't quite ready yet. (Yes, the characters have taken over the story. It's a good thing in some respects, but it's maddening in others ways - they're determined to find their own way to each other and they won't let me throw them together. I'm going to try, but I can only push them so hard...) I'm writing as much as time will allow - I really want to get Severus into this mix - and I'll post as soon as I can. As always, my undying thanks to Mamacita-san; she is a goddess, and all mistakes are mine. And please, review, review, review! I'm writing this for myself, but I always love external validation (I've got an ego, ya know.... *grin*)
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The Kill Shot