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What If.....?	By : valkyrie136 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 4465 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I Do not own the rights to Pillow Book or to Harry Potter or anything in that universe nor do I not make any profits from it. J.K. Rowling does. Please support the author by reading her books.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Fate Is A Hard Thing To Come By.
Next morning, Hermione arrived early at school to ask her classmates what their teacher's name was. She didn't know kissing up would be this difficult, nor had she expected finding out her teacher's name was even harder than finding out the names of aristocratic ladies. After six months, Hermione had only befriended Prince Fura at school aside from Charlie. When she came by his place, however, she found that even the prince didn't know what his teacher's name was. Hermione found this to be quite unbelievable; but who was she to question the cultural norms here?
It was 5am, and on the sky was a lone crescent moon emitting a clear light. Normally very few ambitious students could be seen burning the lamp at this hour. There were noises today, however, that could be heard from some distance still far away. These were not loud, but were certainly coming from more than one or two persons.
Hermione’s sleepiness dissipated at the thought of catching something exciting. Early birds indeed did get the best treats; it was a good thing she had slept less today. A number of candles lit the large classroom. Hermione quietly snuck in from the back door and peered in. Most of her classmates were present.
They flit back and forth looking very much as if they were secretly setting up an ambush around the school. One student appeared to be whispering orders and others scrambled to do as he said. Listening in, Hermione was able to quickly make sense of what was happening.
Education was in a lot of ways the life and blood of the people within the wood. With little else to do, it made perfect sense. Hence the most important people within the clan were all people who dominated the classroom, something Hermione appreciated deeply. It seemed that an outsider was supposed to arrive on special invitation to teach the students potions, an area that was largely neglected due to the amount of time dedicated to history and practical applications of magic. Potions was not nearly as important here because the whitewoods only had a small patch of land that they spent a great deal of time and magic on so it could be farmed. Hence any materials needed for potions were extremely costly, and limited to a short series of classes offered more as a courtesy than an actual course. If people were interested, and they could afford it, then they would have to learn on their own time.
It seemed that a potions master would be arriving to teach the students, and everyone was looking forward to it because they knew him and generally respected him. At the last minute he decided to send someone else in his stead, something that greatly upset the students who were looking forward to meeting this revered teacher that was seen only a few weeks out of the year.
Angry, the students were planning on playing a trick on this new teacher. They decided to dig a hole and catch this teacher. Now at first she thought this an incredibly cartoonish trap until she learned that at the bottom of this hole were dozens of invisible conjured swords, each with the power to deliver a hundred paper cuts. Whoever landed in this trap wouldn’t die, but she certainly pitied them.
Hermione did not endorse this kind of trickery, but she didn’t think anyone would actually fall for such a ruse so in exchange for learning more information about their teacher—mainly his name—she offered some advice on how to camouflage it. Only someone as dense as General Charlie might fall for such a trick and she had never met anyone quite as dim as him. Because of this, the students were happy but unfortunately they did not know this teacher’s name. At this point, Hermione decided she would need to try a different method of flattery.
At least one student cared enough about this poor visiting professor to suggest ‘Isn’t this a little too cruel? What if we get in trouble because of this?’
Hermione shrugged. Feeling a little wicked today she joked, ‘Then I supposed you all will have to work together to hide his body,’
Nobody seemed to find this very funny so Hermione shrugged and left. It was a little game they were playing. If this professor got caught in such a trick then she worried for the future minds here at this school.
Saul Croaker, the senior manager for the Department of Mysteries, was standing in front of the Whispering Whitewood’s cliff side. He sighed in worries. Starting from more than two millennia ago, the Silent Mire had never been at peace.
Every year a skilled witch or wizard used this teaching excuse to come to the Whispering Whitewood without anyone suspecting the true purpose—the real purpose of the visit was always to purify the three toxins inside the Silent Mire. Since he had the ability and the time, for the last several years Lucius decided to take on this arduous task.
His reasoning of course being that he would have more power in addition to fostering a reputation of selflessness—something others valued deeply but something he held little regard for.
Each time Lucius came here in the past, he often brought an aid with him to take care of his personal needs but he did not do so this time, and Croaker thought it very strange but because Lucius made him feel uncomfortable he considered it his good luck.
No one knew of Silent Mire’s existence except people working for or affiliated with the Department of Mysteries. It was just one of many unusual places within the world that was studied, investigated, and kept secret for the good of humanity. He shuddered to think of people like Lord Voldemort knowing of its existence.
What they knew of the place was that it was fed by dark energy and in the last century it had become even more unstable. People like Lucius had a natural affinity for dark energy and never seemed to face any residual effects from visiting the Silent Mire.
To protect the rest of the world, Lucius used a spell created by the Department of Mysteries that created another world in seven nights to absorb the excess toxins which the world could not withstand. This world contained the poisons but over time the poisons degraded and destroyed it.
This world was the Silent Mire, and it needed to be recreated every year.
Several theories existed regarding what would happen if the Silent Mire collapsed and unleashed its poisons, ranging from the end of the world to an enormous loss of life. Either way it would create a calamity.
On Winter Solstice, the valley could be opened and kept open for a period of one month. Not even the inhabitants of the Whitewood knew how to perform this spell. So Lucius entered the Whitewood alone.
Meanwhile, Hermione was leisurely going for a walk and reflecting on how to gain entry to the tournament since flattery seemed like a dead cause. Just then someone tapped on her shoulder. She turned around and saw Charlie motioning a dagger against his beautiful face. “Say, should I make a cut this way, or that way, or this way then that way? From a woman's perspective, which would make me more handsome, do you think?”
Hermione wondered sometimes what went on inside this head of his. Still, they were friends so she thought about his question. ‘Why not just stay the way you are…?’
Charlie Martel thought that she was making fun of him.
In a bad mood, he tossed the knife away and sat down next to her.“You don't think knife marks would make my face better either? Then say, what about beards? I think a beard goes well with my face...”
Charlie’s nonsense came through one ear and out of the other. She was glad Charlie finally realized girls didn't like him because he was too pretty. But she also felt if one day he really wore a beard, girls wouldn't like it as much as his current appearance. Perhaps the issue was not with his face but with his personality, although Hermione liked him well enough to consider him a good friend.
Two branches snapped from the weight of snow. Hermione sneezed. She disrupted Charlie’s thoughts: “Did you see our teacher on your way here?’ Where has he been all day, ‘I've looked for him forever.”
Charlie abruptly turned around and stared at her in surprise. “Didn't you know?”
“What... what should I know?” Hermione jumped and backed into the tree.
Charlie scratched his head. “Seeing how downcast you are, I thought the prince had alerted you after class was dismissed.” Still scratching his head, he continued: “It's not that big of a deal, really. It's both bad and good news for you. Don't be anxious, wait and I'll tell you. Half of the bad news came from the trap you set. The person who should've fallen didn't fall. But the teacher you're looking for... here's the good news, he stepped onto it and fell...” Charlie paused to observe her reaction and went on: “Prince Fura thinks with the teacher's familiarity of the locale, you won't have much time to run. Only in half an hour he was able to crawl out and swore he'll skin you alive. According to Fura’s analysis of his facial expression at the time, there's a very large chance he'll do just that.” Then he looked at her with dawning realization. “At first I thought it strange that you haven't run to hide even though you already knew. Here I was still thinking you were a brave soul. Turns out you didn't know anything.”
Hermione sat leaning against the tree while she listened to Charlie. Her head reeled as she saw a dark figure advancing toward them from the distance, looking very much like her teacher. In the blink of an eye she had dashed away like a lightning reflection. As she ran, she contemplated on stopping and explaining to her incensed teacher that it was all a misunderstanding. But in the end she decided to run even faster.
Life was unpredictable this way. Never mind flattering her teacher to participate in the competition. Even if she respectfully presented him the ten copies of scriptures on two hands, he'd only skin her faster. The rules were different here, and she was very afraid—he might be able to actually do such a thing. Just three months ago a student was punished to be tortured and nearly died. At the time, she had been distracted and only gave a little bit of advice, not once believing they would succeed. Was her brain just for decoration?
Charlie chased after her calling aloud, “I haven't finished. There's still more good news you haven't heard...” Then, seeing their teacher fast approaching, he was afraid he had uncovered her location and quickly yelled out in a different direction. He was feeling satisfied with himself today. Finally he'd gotten a handle on the art of social interaction – this improvement wasn't a small feat.
Hermione sprinted along the lake. If she could use her magic she would have apparated away but sadly she could not. The snow made her slow, and the cold air burned her lungs as she gasped for breath.
She didn't remember seeing anyone moments ago but at this very second there was a silhouette of elegance cloaked in a stylish all black suit standing peacefully among the flowers. Hermione thought she was dreaming at first. Only one person was so married to that color, and could wear it so beautifully. But why would Lucius be here now? If he was here to bring her back, he should’ve done so six months ago.
While she was busy deconstructing his reasons for being here, she carelessly fell forward, but fortunately grabbed onto a trunk in time. She slipped on ice and spun behind the old tree. From the corner of her eyes she could see the elegant figure was no longer there.
After regaining her balance, she breathed warmth into her hands and turned around to check whether her teacher had caught up, bumping right into someone. A few paces behind was her teacher. He was bent over with a hand on his ancient hip trying to stand straight. When he saw her retreating backward and wanting to flee away, he quickly caught onto her sleeve. Well, call her shocked! Her normally slow teacher was all of a sudden as agile as a rabbit. Before she could react, both her hands and feet were tied up by magical ropes. “Unruly student, stop right there!” she heard him say.
“The first lesson students should learn is to respect their teachers. After your shenanigan today, I'll have to punish you to the water prison. You don't think it's unfair, do you? Because I see a water prison right here.” Before he even finished speaking, he had already begun the incantation that could very well be the end of her.
Hermione learned a few spells to protect herself over the last six months but she currently couldn’t speak, and Hermione’s ability to use wandless magic without speaking was weak. Being immersed in water in this weather could cause her to freeze to death. She wasn’t so proud that she wouldn’t beg but at the moment she could not speak. With nothing else to do, she gritted her teeth and prepared for the punishment.
Her teacher's face turned purple with rage. His long mustache curled up as his two index fingers came together. When the spell which would immerse her into the stream was about to form, the two ropes binding Hermione’s limbs suddenly became undone. An unhurried voice reached them from behind: “If you punish her to the water prison, who will take of my personal needs?”
Snowflakes the size of goose feathers continuously fell down – the sky was shrouded in white. Lucius Malfoy in slowly emerged from behind the trees. The snowflakes landing on his silver hair instantly melted away. He was singularly the most extraordinary man in the world... in her mind, wherever he stood, scenery turned into paradise.
Hermione lowered her eyes and followed the trail of imprints he left behind in the snow. When it reached the stream, she snapped from her trance and looked back to Lucius, then turned and bolted.
For half a year there were times when Hermione even dreamed of her best friends Harry or Ron flying down to save her. But to see Lucius here in the Whispering Whitewood was something she'd never thought or dreamed of. At first, she thought she wouldn't mind the fact that Lucius didn't save her from falling into the forest. But seeing Lucius presently in the flesh, simply standing in front of her with no trace of regret on his face for some reason outraged her.
A soft current sent snow dusts flying above the branches. Hermione knew Lucius had caught up to her, but she would not stop. In less than three paces, Lucius was standing quietly in front of her. Hermione walked on but he remained in her way. She looked up and glared at him. “Don't tell me you're here to save me. Where have you been the past six months?” She scoffed, “What, you finally remembered to come save me today? Well you know what, I don't need it!” She whirled around and followed the lake to go back. When Lucius’s feet appeared once more on the ground in front of her, she halted. “Go away, don't block me!”
Standing a meter apart, Lucius contemplated her awhile and at last raised his voice: “How amusing, are you being angry with me? What difference is there between saving you half a year later as supposed to half a year sooner?”
The anger-flame within her threatened to erupt. How shameless of him as someone older. Did he ask her what difference there was between saving her half a year later as supposed to half a year sooner?!
Hermione clenched her hands into cracking fists. “You try being lied to about being sent to a pair of evil death eaters who might kill you, then feeling the horror of being brought to battle, then getting thrown into a godforsaken dead forest for months. Try it, why don't you!” As she shouted, she suddenly wondered how she could have forgiven him half a year ago. Anyone lucky enough to survive this situation would stab needles at Lucius’s voodoo doll every day. At this thought, she added with bravado: “So I feel a little angry, but I haven’t yet poked needles into your voodoo doll because I was raised well, so how dare you still ask me what difference is there?!” She grabbed an old twig and snapped it in half. “If you ask such a stupid question again, be prepared to suffer in the same manner as this twig!”
Hermione finally felt her attitude toward Lucius was becoming normal today. These outbursts seemed to be giving her some energy. Half a year ago when she was stopping by to deliver her appeals, she always tried to be quiet and avoid his attention. Unconsciously remembering she had once liked him two decades ago, she was always polite, always modest, never once letting him see who she really was—or experience the full extent of her wrath.
How many people in the world dared to announce she’d snap Lucius Malfoy in half like a twig, yet Hermione Granger did. She felt utterly satisfied and wanted to applaud herself. At the same time, she could guess Lucius would be incensed. She might not have a good ending today. And yet it would be good to resolve their feud in one last fight. Although she’d surely lose, and Lucius would snap her in half, how to handle her opponent would be up to herself.
Hermione felt her demonstration had been appropriate, because she detected a fleeting surprise from Lucius’s deep placid eyes. This, she could predict. Always in the past she had been too respectful. Even when she raged at him, like in his home, up until she lost her control and shouted that curse, she had been restraining herself. He needed some time to adjust now that she wasn’t being respectful today.
Lucius regarded her quietly for a length of time and finally said, “So what you’re saying is that you’re very angry. What do you want me to do about it?’
Hermione opened and shut her mouth. Once again she was at a loss for words because that was the last thing she expected him to ask her. What did she want him to do?
A few moments passed and then he finally said, ‘Then perhaps you are not so angry and merely happy to see me?’ He uttered this with a look of complete innocence, as if this were a very real possibility.
Before she could reply, several Mytherians from the Queen’s household appeared and went to greet Lucius. He turned to exchange greetings, and as if she were invisible, she watched as he was led away. Truthfully she was happy that he left because she had been so angry that she might have said something she shouldn’t. Turning, began the long walk back to where she was staying.

Later that evening, Hermione was soaking in the bath near the fire, a silk screen wrapped around for privacy. No electricity existed in this place, and the Mytherians did not have access to any kind of indoor plumbing. If one needed to use the necessary, you hiked to the outhouse, which, although maintained with magic nevertheless was incredibly inconvenient. There was no room dedicated entirely to bathing; one filled up a tub and put a screen if you wanted privacy.
She heard the door open and foot steps. Charlie somberly pulled a chair over and sat down next to Hermione by the fire on the other side of the screen. He snacked on melon seeds. The firelight cast a shadow of Charlie’s angling profile; he was biting melon seeds looking so forlorn and melancholic.
Hermione gingerly glanced around the scene and observed him momentarily and felt Charlie was truly a remarkable flower. When this flower was tinted with a hint of sadness, it was especially more alluring. If he wanted to become a hero any time in his life, he had better reincarnate into a different life. Otherwise with this smooth silky face, even with a beard and a dozen scars on his face, he'd still be a stunning flower.
With a sigh, she decided to rise and wrapped a towel around herself. She suddenly felt sorry for the man. She neared him and asked in concern, “General Charlie, why are you sighing so disconsolately? What had happened?” Charlie had always liked being called 'general.’ She thought starting the conversation this way might lift his spirit.
Charlie's troubled face seemed to calm somewhat. He raised his head to speak but ended up choking on melon seeds instead. After taking a few moments to compose himself, he let out a heavy sigh. ‘Lucius the Ice Face had arrived today. Have you heard?” He looked grave and sad, ‘I once thought my magic was better than his but he not only defeated me, he seemed utterly undamaged by our battle. When I confronted him just today, he asked me who I was.’
Unsure of what to say to console him, she finally said, “Although he's beaten you this time, there is one thing he'll always lose to you. Why should you use your weakness to fight against his strength?” Hermione had thought to merely console him with these words; she hadn't anticipated Charlie to question her back even in such a situation (she was, after all, still needing to dress herself): “For example?”
She carefully searched for an answer, took a step back, and tried her luck: “For example, you're better looking than he is?” Charlie crumpled up the empty bag of melon seeds and threw it at her head.

The list of contestants was announced the next day. Sure enough, Hermione’s name wasn't on it. When she heard of this bad news, Hermione cocooned herself in a rumpled blanket and sat by the window in thoughts. Frigid wind couldn't push away her dejection. She sniffed her runny nose and asked Charlie who was also in the room, “It was just a misunderstanding. I didn’t come up with the idea to trick him; our teacher should know this. How come my name still wasn't on there? Or perhaps the scribe forgot by carelessness?” Charlie sneezed and sighed, “You should never judge a book by the cover. I better look at him in a different light from now on.” Hermione wanted to remind him that 'don’t judge a book by its cover' wasn't an accurate usage in this case and usually meant a bad person is actually good. But on second thought, she could see that Charlie was starting to use idioms recently and displaying some culture which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
She looked to the thick snow beyond the windowpanes and sensed that it wasn't a good idea to discuss such high-logic topics with Charlie, so she changed the subject to a simpler kind: “Speaking of Lord Malfoy. You two were fighting before we fell here. I thought you'd be at each other's throat once you meet again. I was sure you'd find another opportunity to duel...” They hadn't, and she was dying with impatience.
Charlie’s face reddened. He lifted his head and asked hesitantly, “Are you... worried for me?” His eyes gleamed a kind of pride as he walked over and gave her naked shoulder a pat. “Good sister of mine! You are so kindhearted even though you are from Ice Face's household. I knew I was right to think highly of you!”
Hermione rocked from his strong pat. She was feeling slightly ashamed and didn't reply. He went on to explain: “Truthfully, the two of us had made an agreement on the very first day Ice Face arrived here. That day I delivered the news about the trap, this was the good news I had. If he doesn't interfere with my and Madeline’s relationship, I won't look for revenge either.”
Hermione massaged her shoulder and asked in puzzlement, “What does this have to do with Madeline Fournier?”
Charlie's eyes glinted a vastly different beam as he excitedly told Hermione, “Do you still remember that day when we were questioned at the royal court? Although Maddy had veiled her face, I recognized her right away. Our relationship has been great these past six months. I feel fantastic!”
Hermione did not really know what to say—he clearly felt this was good news. A good friend would have congratulated him but she was still unsure of how she felt about Madeline. She was vastly different from Narcissa, who was very mean. Even though Charlie loved Maddy beyond reason, even he admitted that Lucius was deeply in love with Maddy. Hermione couldn’t exactly hate her just because she and Lucius weren’t meant to be; that would be extremely petty and unreasonable.
The world suddenly opened wide before her eyes. Blue sky and white clouds greeted her. Her heart now at peace, she was in awe of her own self for generously blessing the two of them.
Except, that was that and this was this. The fact that Lucius as an elder had carelessly left her, a delicate young woman, in the Whispering Whitewood to rot was unforgivable. She had rather hold onto this grudge forever.
But none of these things had really mattered. The one important thing that was distressing her was something else. She couldn't join this year's tournament, so how was she going to have the golden apple that was reserved for the champion? Without the fruit, how was she going to save Ginny? Was stealing the only option left? Actually, stealing wasn't a bad idea. Should she take Charlie with her to this dangerous but very meaningful job?
This was her chance to fix the problems her time travel created. It was the one thing that filled her with guilt. But she wouldn’t be able to do it alone; she would have to take Charlie with her.
And yet it was by no means an easy task to steal the fruit. On the surface no one was guarding the magical tree, but according to insider information from Prince Fura, surrounding the tree were four pillars, and under each was a protective python. As soon as they discovered a trespasser, they would bite off his head before his hand could even touch the fruit.
Between the two of them, Charlie was a powerful sorcerer. But she hadn't done enough research on the python pit of death yet. What if Charlie was to be swallowed alive? She looked up to admire him for a while. Rosy lips and ivory skin, with a touch of melancholy. What a pity it'd be for such a beautiful person to be swallowed whole by giant snakes.

Hermione raked her brain for three days.
She needed the perfect plan.
On the third morning, she hadn’t come up with anything yet. She still had class, and today’s lecture would be in potions. Lucius would be teaching it. She arrived early, and saw that Lucius must have used some powerful magics to temporarily altar the scenery. It looked like a lovely spring day. She hadn’t known him to be so whimsical, but then she remembered that Madeline would be in this class, and deduced he was doing this for her.
Since she arrived early, she decided to take the time to rest in the sun’s rays, realizing that she missed them. Unfortunately, because she spent the entire night wracking her mind she had not slept well, and soon she was nodding off. It would be the first time in her entire life that she fell asleep during a lesson.
She didn’t know how much time passed. No one seemed to notice her.
A moment later, something as soft as goose feathers and as cold as frost fluttered across her face. But that was only the beginning. The warmth on the grass suddenly went away. Biting gust flooded into her sleeves as snow dusts flew into her robe. Hermione jolted awake and sneezed in bursts.
She strained her eyes open as the chill crawled up her spine. It was so cold that she curled up like a pupa in its cocoon. Her clouded mind seemed to say: “Hermione Granger, why are you so stupid? Out of all the places you could've picked, you picked this bloody place to sleep.?”
Soon after, she silently answered herself, “That's right, I'm stupid. So, so stupid.” She shiveringly blamed herself for being brainless and passed out from the cold half an hour later.
Hermione was rarely ill but she remembered that her mother once teased her and said she had a habit of behaving coquettish when sick. At the time, Hermione got a terrible cold after falling in a lake and her mother said that Hermione uttered a great deal of nonsense but told her she was too embarrassed to tell her daughter what she said.
A kindhearted person eventually saved her and brought her back to the insulation of warm bed quilts. Nevertheless, she had been freezing for half an hour in the snow and thus picked up a bad case of pneumonia this time. In her dream, everything was one big chaotic tangle. She saw herself as a little girl who was lying sick in bed after drowning from a fishing competition with the kid who lived next door. A hand touched her forehead. She felt cold with what awareness she had left and withdrew all the way under the bedcover. That hand slightly paused then tightly wrapped the blanket around her, leaving only her mouth and nose, and tugged the corner under her small chin. Feeling a little more comfortable, she sweetly rubbed her cheek against that hand.
Even though she was ill, she could tell that the hand did not lovingly pat her back.
Feeling upset, she grabbed that hand and pulled it against her face and rubbed her cheek against it. Holding this hand, she could feel its fingers were long and slender. In her foggy mind, she thought this was her mother’s hand. She brought the hand close against her chest, and it stayed there for a moment before pulling away.
“Still cold?” These words were soft and seemed to have floated in from somewhere far, far away. She couldn’t distinguish the pitch or sound of this voice. She must be really sick.
She must have said something, because the voice said ‘She’s starting to sleep talk.’
Feeling neglected, Hermione began to sob, because she was after all thinking she was a kid. Why was her mother ignoring her? ‘There’s no use crying—‘ the voice gently said, but she only cried louder, so the voice said ‘I wonder how loud you can cry?’
Hermione angrily accused, ‘You don’t love me anymore? So you’re going to give me away, or beat me to death?’
‘I don’t think I’m interested in tying you up and beating you.’
As she drifted off to sleep, Hermione couldn’t help but think that this person was extremely cold hearted. At some point, her blanket fell away and she became cold, but she felt something warm nearby. Hermione sleepily wrapped her arms around this heat source and burrowed her face against it.
When she had had enough sleep and opened her eyes, she could feel cold perspiration covering her entire forehead. She knew very well how unseemly she could act when she was sick, but the scene in the room at this moment was still more than Hermione could ever imagine. At this very instant, Hermione in disheveled clothes—but her shirt was missing and she wore a simple tank top-- had her head laid on someone's lap.
Her arms were circling tightly around his waist. They were lounging on a magnificent bed completed with draping gossamer curtains. On the silk tapestry underneath the wall divider stood a unicorn incense burner; the soporific scent wafted fragrantly in the air.
There were sounds of turning pages ruffling above her head. Hermione quietly looked up and saw the gold snake seal on a book cover and a few silver strands hanging loose before her eyes. She perspired more profusely by the second. “Don't be alarmed, I didn't do anything to you. You removed your shirt in your sleep because you had felt over heated.’
Hermione gasped and moved down from his body. Faking death would be a horrible tactic at this moment. She had a chance to experience Lucius’s ‘assistane’. Something as humiliating as this – calmly accepting it might salvage some of her pride. She would never hope for her savior to be Lucius while she was awake, but she was unconscious and couldn't very well pick her savior. “Lord Maloy…has saved me yet again. I... I'm... very grateful. Of course, if you hadn't brought me to that duel six months ago, I wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. But in any case, you still saved me this time, and I thank you for your help. This makes us even now, what do you say?”
Lucius was apparently very awake. He pulled his legs up, stretched his arms, and looked at her. “So you're still upset that I didn't come to save you six months ago, and about the duel as well?”
How could he still have the bravado to mention these two things? She coughed in fits. “Those two things...” Of course there was no way these grudges could disappear within a night or two.
Hermione fixed her garments. She was indeed emotional when she first saw Lucius a few days ago, and was easily upset when he teased her. But her personality was such that she also easily forgot once she was able to get it out of her system. “You reap what you sow. It doesn't matter how I see things, because it's all subjective.”
At this, her expression suddenly became complicated as she added: “Actually, there's something I want to ask more than those two things. I know I may act peculiarly when I'm sick, but...” She paused, set her jaws, and continued: “I tend to feel cold because I have a weak body, so I probably mistook you as a source of heat. But if you had pushed me away, I wouldn't have come toward you again. So why didn't you push me away? Why did you have to let me fall into this awkward situation?”
Still looking utterly nonchalant, and even seemed as though he found her question strange, he answered her, “You came into my arms on your own. Being such a rare chance as it was, reasonably speaking, why should I push you away?”
Hermione was utterly confused, ‘I thought you thought muggle borns were dirty? Why wouldn’t you push me away?’ She challenged.
‘if it’s to my advantage, I dislike mudbloods.’ She flinched and he smiled faintly, ‘But when it suits me, I only dislike muggle borns.’
Hermione was at a loss for words. Regardless of when she knew knew him, at each and every time communication was never easy for her and Lucius. In an argument, he always seemed to win because she was one who prided herself on logic; Lucius, though reasonable, did not hesitate to abandon reason when it suited him. It could give her a headache just thinking about it. Still recovering from her illness, she could only assume that she would lose this verbal argument.
Hermione suddenly realize that she must have disappeared for some time. Lucius rose to refuel the incense burner. Charlie would be worried, and she also did not want to spend any more time with Lucius. She stepped down from the bed and looked for her boots. It didn't seem right to just leave like this, so she cleared her throat and thanked him again. “I'm grateful for your help this time, but it's quite late now and I've troubled you long enough. Goodbye.” Lucius unhurriedly hummed in accord. Then as he put the lid back onto the incense burner, he said, “I heard after your illness you fell into a snake during a night stroll and ever since become afraid to travel outside when it is night alone. Have you looked at the sky? It’s dark out…’
The curtain lifted then lowered instantly. In a flash, Lucius, who had just finished adding incense to the burner, was knocked down on the bed by Hermione. Taken by surprise, he asked, “Aren't you overreacting?”
He had only finished speaking when she clamped her hand over his mouth tightly. Weighing on him, Hermione whispered, ‘I think that Madeline Fournier is outside.’ She shifted, and did not realize that because she only wore her think tank top, the kind that one wore as an undergarment, the tops of her breasts were very visible to Lucius.
When she lifted the curtain, she saw a white figure that she thought might be Madeline. She covered Lucius’s mouth to prevent him from speaking lest Maddy discover them. But in her haste, her feet got caught by the rug on the floor and she ended up lurching at Lucius like a hungry predator, knocking him flat onto the bed with her pressing on top.
Lucius raised his brow and lifted her hand away, but complied and whispered back, “Why can't we make sounds if Ms. Fournier is near?”
Hermione knew that Madeline might misunderstand if she saw them together, and she didn’t want to be a reason for creating problems between the two lovers. Hermioine finally said, ‘If you two have a chance to be together, you should cherish it. In the past I once loved someone but no matter how hard I tried, he never looked my way and I never had a single chance. If you can be with the one you love then you should protect it.’
Hermione was not looking at Lucius; she straddled him, and shifted slightly, rubbing her body against his. Had she lowered her eyes she might have seen that his pupils had dilated, and that his gaze was focused on the breasts pressed up against his chest.
In a low voice he murmured, ‘I think you’ve misunderstood me.’ She clamped her hand over his mouth again, and moved up his body a bit. Lucius could now see her bra, which was a pale, light rose color, and when she removed her hand again, she did not notice that his face was becoming pale.
In a flash, her world turned upside down and Lucius pinned her beneath him. Suddenly, Hermione became nervous. His face was very close to hers, and he was strong—she couldn’t move, and she felt her face turn hot as something like heat bloomed between her legs. His silver hair fell over them like a curtain, and she suddenly felt like kissing him.
As if he could care less, he casually spoke, ‘How much more trouble do you intend to cause? Stay here and I will get you some medicine.’
He said this all in a voice without any regard for whoever was outside. This encounter would cause Hermione’s mind to turn into a complete mess for days after.
___________________
Years later Hermione would conclude that her thoughts and actions during this time could only stem from her complete lack of experience—both in love and in understanding it. She always praised herself as a rational individual, and as a result, could not logically account for the actions that occurred in the bedroom of Lucius.
She knew him to loathe muggle borns, but then he seemed to relate that sometimes he hated them and sometimes, he didn’t. He purportedly loves Madeline, and yet made no efforts to hide the fact that she was in his room. She didn’t know if he was playing another trick on her or if this was how he felt or if it was something else entirely. With no one else to confide in, she turned to her friend Charlie Martel.
Perplexed, she shared what happened and asked his opinion; he at once roused the dreamer from her sleep: “I know. Ice Face isn't that generous. He resents my friendship with Madeline despite agreeing to it, so he's pouring his displeasure onto her.”
To Hermione, this made absolutely no sense. She seemed confused. Charlie patiently explained: “Look, Ice Face did what he did to let Maddy know that there was still an attractive woman on his bed who was willing to act coquettishly to him. That attractive woman is you, of course. What Ice Face really wants is to hurt Madeline because it hurts him when she spends time with me. From this, we can see Ice Face's feelings for Maddy are still strong. He must hurt her in order to soothe his own longing. Is this how you use the word 'longing'? Hold on and let me look it up in the dictionary first. Hey hey, don't look at me that way. That's what they write in the books!”
Charlie smirked slyly, “Ice Face’s treatment of Maddy would only give me more opportunities to take her away from him.” She had to admit Charlie’s face was such a tragedy. Even when he sneered he was still as exquisite as a jade.
Hermione dissuaded him: “Don't be that way.’ And speaking from personal experience she continued, ‘ They say true love conquers all, and I don’t want to see you cast in the role of villain.’
Hermione’s words seemed to have affected Charlie. “You're right,” Then he asked, “Is there any consequences if I destroy their love?” Hermione mulled over his question awhile: “No, I guess not. Never mind, you can do whatever you want.” The profound exchange pretty much ended here.
Logically speaking, Charlie’s explanation wasn't sound, but on an emotional level it did make sense. And since logic didn't exist in love, Charlie’s words could be trusted for the time being. Once upon a time Hermione thought that she was doing no wrong in pursuing Lucius; but she later learned that she created a number of headaches for him. Her appearance decades ago caused conflict between him and Narcissa. Later, she again tried and failed, but it seemed she always had either wound up directly or indirectly ruining Lucius’s plans to love someone. Last night might have been her first step towards taking what she learned seriously since she tried to help him along with his romance.
There were such things as these intricate turns in love. Without understanding these winding turns, she showed up wanting to win over Lucius with merely her courage. Naturally she failed, and only today did she find out there existed such underlining principles as these.
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