Lucius\' Bookshelves
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Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
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310
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Currently Reading:
2
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
36,214
Reviews:
310
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
2
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 10
Chapter 10
Hermione woke up in Lucius’ bed. The room was still fairly dark with only one flickering sconce providing light, suggesting that it was still sometime late in the evening, or perhaps early the next morning. Sitting up, she didn’t see Lucius anywhere.
Had he not wanted her to stay with him, so he’d left? Probably. Although it was really his own fault that she had fallen asleep. He had had the elves bring up some food and some brandy, and they’d eaten together, Lucius clad in a forest green silk robe, Hermione in Lucius’ discarded shirt. After they’d eaten, Lucius had proceeded to massage her back and her shoulders, lulling her to sleep. And now Lucius was gone.
Probably didn’t expect me to fall asleep after that, she smirked. Still, it was late, and since he didn’t seem to want to share a bed – at least not for anything beyond physical relations – she decided to head back to her own rooms. She didn’t bother to look around as she left. Like she had suspected earlier, he was only using her. She had been foolish to even wonder if there was something else between them. But then, she should have expected this from Lucius. At least he made it clear how he felt about her. And that was a sort of honesty, in its own way. That realization didn’t make her feel any better.
****
Lucius walked back to his rooms, uncertain as to whether he wanted to find Hermione there. It had been disconcerting. She had fallen asleep as he had massaged her shoulders, and that was acceptable, because it gave him more time to look at her and to assess her. And yet it was disquieting to have anyone asleep in his bed. Uncertain as to how to react, he had gone down to the library and had started in on a new bottle of brandy.
Certainly, there had been times when one (or more) of his partners had passed out in his bed after a particularly vigorous session. And he had done his own fair share of waking up in strange beds, but he’d never had anyone actually sleep in his bed.
Even he and Narcissa had had separate bedrooms from the start, and it was usually him coming to visit her. The visits were often short, and she never invited him to stay any longer than necessary. And then Draco was born, after which her doors seemed to be warded against him more and more frequently. Which was fine. Theirs had been a marriage of convenience and a merging of bloodlines, not a marriage of passion, or even of mutual respect.
Which is why Hermione sleeping in his bed, with a faint smile on her face was so unsettling. It smacked too much of intimacy. And he wasn’t sure that he was ready, or ever would be ready for something like that.
Throughout his life, he had sought to avoid close human relations. His family name, money and power brought him numerous acquaintances, but he had never sought to create any deep ties with any of those people. They had surrounded him because they wanted to be associated with him, and he had kept them around, because they offered him power
But intimate friends? Never. Malfoys were not raised for intimacy. He remembered that lesson all too clearly from his father when he was 5. His father had come home from work, and he had run to him, trying to hug him. His father pushed him away, and told him that Malfoys didn’t hold each other. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. And he had never tried again.
Even his friendships through school were farces, because that’s how he preferred it. And that’s why it hadn’t bothered him when his ‘old friend’ Severus had turned tor. or. Just another person to be cast off when he stopped being useful. And for most of his life, people had been classified as simply useful, or not.
But for some reason, things had changed with the fall of the Dark Lord. The Ministry had allowed him to keep everything that he owned except his freedom, and his sycophants. And maybe when human company became the one thing that money couldn’t buy, he began to crave it. Or maybe things had only changed when Hermione had shown up. It was hard to say. But he found himself actually enjoying her company. And her body.
Still, was she doing with him anyway? He knew what all of Dumbledore’s cronies thought of him; that he was a turncoat who switched sides at the last minute, when it became apparent that the Dark Lord’s grasp for power was at an end. And, although he was loath to admit it, it was true.
So, was he just some novelty for her? Go fuck the big, bad Death Eater, and sell your story to the Daily Prophet: ‘I slept with a Death Eater – my true story’?
Gods. That was really the worst thing about the aftermath of the war. He was being treated like a still-dangerous caged animal. Members from the Ministry cabinet would come out occasionally, drink his wine, offer ‘privileges’ in exchange for a cheque, and poke a stick at him to make sure he was still alive.
Hermione hadn’t been like that, though. He knew that. She had treated him a little warily when she first arrived, but she had still treated him like a human being. And maybe that was what made her so appealing. Because he couldn’t think back to a time when he was ever treated ‘normally’. Of course, he considered, if anyone had dared treat him like that before the war ended, they would have found themselves on the receiving end of an Unforgiveable.
The fact that Hermione didn’t come from one of the old wizarding families was actually a plus, he realized. In this day, any woman from an aristocratic wizarding family would either be after his money, or would have scorned him from the start. His face twisted in a wry grin; he’d never have anticipated willingly turning to a mudblood. But the world was changing, and the Malfoys hadn’t existed for centuries without being adaptable. And his ancestors wouldn’t even be cursing him – he’d already done his duty in producing a virile heir. Even if the heir didn’t seem to be interested in doing his duty to the family name quite yet.
He sighed. Times were definitely changing. Lucius paused a little longer before opening the door to his rooms. Did he want her to be there? Yes. He did, he decided. After all, just because it was a first for him to have a woman asleep in his bed didn’t mean that he didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. He grinned and pushed the door open.
****
The spoiled child that often drove Lucius’ desires was fueled with brandy, and had emerged angry at not getting what it wanted. Where the hell was she? How dare she leave his rooms when he wanted her there?
A crystal decanter smashed into a stone wall, the idea to go to her rooms never occurring to him.
****
Damn. How did her life turn into such a mess so quickly? She had arrived at Malfoy Manor feeling competent and confident. She was secure in the knowledge that the work she was doing was good, and she felt certain that she would not have any problems with Lucius. Yet here she was, determined to undermine her own job assignment from the Ministry. And trying to sort out her feelings for Lucius.
Merlin. She was muggle-born. So it didn’t really matter what her feelings for Lucius were, did it? She was just a convenience for him. But damn. If the man wasn’t so intoxicating, there wouldn’t be any of these problems to begin with. It was just so hard to resist him when his touch was so electrifying. But damn it. She wasn’t going to put up with his using her and then ignoring her at his conveniencemplymply because she didn’t have the fortune to be born to ‘old blood’.
Her feelings concerning Lucius made the problem with the Dark Arts texts look positively simple. Well, maybe not simple. She had owled the Ministry early that morning explaining that she was going to inventory the Malfoy collection completely before turning anything else over to them. She had received a terse note back almost immediately, informing her that the Ministry was going to have a public display of confiscated items in a week’s time, and she was expected to have additional items for them by that time.
She sighed. She had to figure out some way to preserve the texts, since it was obvious when the Ministry mentioned a ‘public display’ that they were really referring to another book burning. And a week didn’t give her much time.
An idea had slowly germinated when she was reading one of the Dark Arts spell books. There was a minor spell that would create a complete duplicate of an object. Traditional magic had had similar spells for ages, but those spells were typically short-lived, and the duplicate object typically vanished after a few days. The Dark Arts version made the duplicate permanent.
Oh gods. She couldn’t believe that she was even considering using any kind of Dark Magic, regardless of the desired outcomes. She caught herself. No. That just wasn’t going to work. She’d just have to keep looking. She couldn’t use Dark Magic…
Pulling a few books off the bookshelves, Hermione sat at the desk in the library and began to take notes.
Lucius contemplated his next actions before entering the library. He’d needed his swim this morning. The cool water cleared the brandy-induced cobwebs from his head, and it tempered his anger (not to mention his flesh!) in not being able to go another round with Hermione last night.
Hermione turned around at the sound of Lucius entering the room. He had a smirk on his face, and his tone was somewhat cold. “Was there some reason you chose to leave my bed last night?”
Gods. Hermione barely heard his words. I don’t want to deal with this right now. I don’t want to get into this conversation. I need to figure out what to do with these texts. Ignoring Lucius’ question, she asked him about the more pressing issue, “What do you know about the Effingorum spell?”
Lucius’ eyes narrowed. She was concerned about these damn books again? “Did no one ever tell you that it is rude to answer a question with a question? Particularly a completely unrelated question?”
Hermione fought the urge to tell Lucius that he had just done the same thing. Instead, she answered his first question quickly, “I assumed that since you had left, that was an indication that you didn’t want to be around me. Which seems to fit with your general view of anyone who is not pureblood. I’m just going to write yesterday off to temporary insanity on your part. And my part as well. Now,” she continued more slowly, an edge in her voice, “Tell me what you know about the Effingorum spell. If anything, that is,” she added acidly. Damn him. How could the man go from charming and attractive to his old self so quickly? Did it only just dawn on him that she was muggleborn?
The muscles in Lucius’ jaw clenched. Damn her. Where did she get this idea that he didn’t want her? Temporary insanity? Did she have no idea? He wanted to talk about her. And him. And how he wanted her at his table each evening, and in his bed as much as humanly possible. He didn’t want to talk to her about some spell buried in one of those books. And yet here she was, ignoring his questions, and trying to treat him as an underling. Him! Trying to restrain himself, he walked around to the other side of the desk. “Perhaps it is a spell that turns an attractive, willing woman into a shrew,” his voice was dangerously low.
Hermione looked back at Lucius, her eyes flashing with anger. Damn him. Didn’t he see the seriousness of the situation? They were, after all, his family possessions. This was all too much. “Mr. Malfoy. I really don’t give a damn what happens to your damn books. They can rot in hell for all I care at this point. And as for you – I have no idea why you decided to lower your standards and sleep with a ‘mudblood’ yesterday, unless you were so absolutely desperate and you had no other choice. And I have absolute no idea why I foolishly lowered my own standards. But I’ll be damned before that happens again. I came in here this morning to try to help save your ‘family heirlooms’, but I can see that my help would not be appreciated.” She stood up, collecting her papers. “I believe I am done with this conversation.”
Lucius grabbed her wrist, “You have no idea what you are talking about –“
“Let. Me. Go. Now. Or the Ministry will receive a full report on your behaviors, and I doubt that they’ll be as considerate with you as they have been in the past.” Hermione jerked her wrist free and stalked out of the room.
“Those would be your same friends in the Ministry who lied to you, I take it?” he asked softly to her retreating back.
~~~~
A/N: Effingo To duplicate
And yes, Lucius begins to fall drastically out of character at this point. But he’s sort of got to if the plot is to continue. Again, thanks for all the wonderful reviews. I really appreciate it!
Hermione woke up in Lucius’ bed. The room was still fairly dark with only one flickering sconce providing light, suggesting that it was still sometime late in the evening, or perhaps early the next morning. Sitting up, she didn’t see Lucius anywhere.
Had he not wanted her to stay with him, so he’d left? Probably. Although it was really his own fault that she had fallen asleep. He had had the elves bring up some food and some brandy, and they’d eaten together, Lucius clad in a forest green silk robe, Hermione in Lucius’ discarded shirt. After they’d eaten, Lucius had proceeded to massage her back and her shoulders, lulling her to sleep. And now Lucius was gone.
Probably didn’t expect me to fall asleep after that, she smirked. Still, it was late, and since he didn’t seem to want to share a bed – at least not for anything beyond physical relations – she decided to head back to her own rooms. She didn’t bother to look around as she left. Like she had suspected earlier, he was only using her. She had been foolish to even wonder if there was something else between them. But then, she should have expected this from Lucius. At least he made it clear how he felt about her. And that was a sort of honesty, in its own way. That realization didn’t make her feel any better.
****
Lucius walked back to his rooms, uncertain as to whether he wanted to find Hermione there. It had been disconcerting. She had fallen asleep as he had massaged her shoulders, and that was acceptable, because it gave him more time to look at her and to assess her. And yet it was disquieting to have anyone asleep in his bed. Uncertain as to how to react, he had gone down to the library and had started in on a new bottle of brandy.
Certainly, there had been times when one (or more) of his partners had passed out in his bed after a particularly vigorous session. And he had done his own fair share of waking up in strange beds, but he’d never had anyone actually sleep in his bed.
Even he and Narcissa had had separate bedrooms from the start, and it was usually him coming to visit her. The visits were often short, and she never invited him to stay any longer than necessary. And then Draco was born, after which her doors seemed to be warded against him more and more frequently. Which was fine. Theirs had been a marriage of convenience and a merging of bloodlines, not a marriage of passion, or even of mutual respect.
Which is why Hermione sleeping in his bed, with a faint smile on her face was so unsettling. It smacked too much of intimacy. And he wasn’t sure that he was ready, or ever would be ready for something like that.
Throughout his life, he had sought to avoid close human relations. His family name, money and power brought him numerous acquaintances, but he had never sought to create any deep ties with any of those people. They had surrounded him because they wanted to be associated with him, and he had kept them around, because they offered him power
But intimate friends? Never. Malfoys were not raised for intimacy. He remembered that lesson all too clearly from his father when he was 5. His father had come home from work, and he had run to him, trying to hug him. His father pushed him away, and told him that Malfoys didn’t hold each other. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. And he had never tried again.
Even his friendships through school were farces, because that’s how he preferred it. And that’s why it hadn’t bothered him when his ‘old friend’ Severus had turned tor. or. Just another person to be cast off when he stopped being useful. And for most of his life, people had been classified as simply useful, or not.
But for some reason, things had changed with the fall of the Dark Lord. The Ministry had allowed him to keep everything that he owned except his freedom, and his sycophants. And maybe when human company became the one thing that money couldn’t buy, he began to crave it. Or maybe things had only changed when Hermione had shown up. It was hard to say. But he found himself actually enjoying her company. And her body.
Still, was she doing with him anyway? He knew what all of Dumbledore’s cronies thought of him; that he was a turncoat who switched sides at the last minute, when it became apparent that the Dark Lord’s grasp for power was at an end. And, although he was loath to admit it, it was true.
So, was he just some novelty for her? Go fuck the big, bad Death Eater, and sell your story to the Daily Prophet: ‘I slept with a Death Eater – my true story’?
Gods. That was really the worst thing about the aftermath of the war. He was being treated like a still-dangerous caged animal. Members from the Ministry cabinet would come out occasionally, drink his wine, offer ‘privileges’ in exchange for a cheque, and poke a stick at him to make sure he was still alive.
Hermione hadn’t been like that, though. He knew that. She had treated him a little warily when she first arrived, but she had still treated him like a human being. And maybe that was what made her so appealing. Because he couldn’t think back to a time when he was ever treated ‘normally’. Of course, he considered, if anyone had dared treat him like that before the war ended, they would have found themselves on the receiving end of an Unforgiveable.
The fact that Hermione didn’t come from one of the old wizarding families was actually a plus, he realized. In this day, any woman from an aristocratic wizarding family would either be after his money, or would have scorned him from the start. His face twisted in a wry grin; he’d never have anticipated willingly turning to a mudblood. But the world was changing, and the Malfoys hadn’t existed for centuries without being adaptable. And his ancestors wouldn’t even be cursing him – he’d already done his duty in producing a virile heir. Even if the heir didn’t seem to be interested in doing his duty to the family name quite yet.
He sighed. Times were definitely changing. Lucius paused a little longer before opening the door to his rooms. Did he want her to be there? Yes. He did, he decided. After all, just because it was a first for him to have a woman asleep in his bed didn’t mean that he didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. He grinned and pushed the door open.
****
The spoiled child that often drove Lucius’ desires was fueled with brandy, and had emerged angry at not getting what it wanted. Where the hell was she? How dare she leave his rooms when he wanted her there?
A crystal decanter smashed into a stone wall, the idea to go to her rooms never occurring to him.
****
Damn. How did her life turn into such a mess so quickly? She had arrived at Malfoy Manor feeling competent and confident. She was secure in the knowledge that the work she was doing was good, and she felt certain that she would not have any problems with Lucius. Yet here she was, determined to undermine her own job assignment from the Ministry. And trying to sort out her feelings for Lucius.
Merlin. She was muggle-born. So it didn’t really matter what her feelings for Lucius were, did it? She was just a convenience for him. But damn. If the man wasn’t so intoxicating, there wouldn’t be any of these problems to begin with. It was just so hard to resist him when his touch was so electrifying. But damn it. She wasn’t going to put up with his using her and then ignoring her at his conveniencemplymply because she didn’t have the fortune to be born to ‘old blood’.
Her feelings concerning Lucius made the problem with the Dark Arts texts look positively simple. Well, maybe not simple. She had owled the Ministry early that morning explaining that she was going to inventory the Malfoy collection completely before turning anything else over to them. She had received a terse note back almost immediately, informing her that the Ministry was going to have a public display of confiscated items in a week’s time, and she was expected to have additional items for them by that time.
She sighed. She had to figure out some way to preserve the texts, since it was obvious when the Ministry mentioned a ‘public display’ that they were really referring to another book burning. And a week didn’t give her much time.
An idea had slowly germinated when she was reading one of the Dark Arts spell books. There was a minor spell that would create a complete duplicate of an object. Traditional magic had had similar spells for ages, but those spells were typically short-lived, and the duplicate object typically vanished after a few days. The Dark Arts version made the duplicate permanent.
Oh gods. She couldn’t believe that she was even considering using any kind of Dark Magic, regardless of the desired outcomes. She caught herself. No. That just wasn’t going to work. She’d just have to keep looking. She couldn’t use Dark Magic…
Pulling a few books off the bookshelves, Hermione sat at the desk in the library and began to take notes.
Lucius contemplated his next actions before entering the library. He’d needed his swim this morning. The cool water cleared the brandy-induced cobwebs from his head, and it tempered his anger (not to mention his flesh!) in not being able to go another round with Hermione last night.
Hermione turned around at the sound of Lucius entering the room. He had a smirk on his face, and his tone was somewhat cold. “Was there some reason you chose to leave my bed last night?”
Gods. Hermione barely heard his words. I don’t want to deal with this right now. I don’t want to get into this conversation. I need to figure out what to do with these texts. Ignoring Lucius’ question, she asked him about the more pressing issue, “What do you know about the Effingorum spell?”
Lucius’ eyes narrowed. She was concerned about these damn books again? “Did no one ever tell you that it is rude to answer a question with a question? Particularly a completely unrelated question?”
Hermione fought the urge to tell Lucius that he had just done the same thing. Instead, she answered his first question quickly, “I assumed that since you had left, that was an indication that you didn’t want to be around me. Which seems to fit with your general view of anyone who is not pureblood. I’m just going to write yesterday off to temporary insanity on your part. And my part as well. Now,” she continued more slowly, an edge in her voice, “Tell me what you know about the Effingorum spell. If anything, that is,” she added acidly. Damn him. How could the man go from charming and attractive to his old self so quickly? Did it only just dawn on him that she was muggleborn?
The muscles in Lucius’ jaw clenched. Damn her. Where did she get this idea that he didn’t want her? Temporary insanity? Did she have no idea? He wanted to talk about her. And him. And how he wanted her at his table each evening, and in his bed as much as humanly possible. He didn’t want to talk to her about some spell buried in one of those books. And yet here she was, ignoring his questions, and trying to treat him as an underling. Him! Trying to restrain himself, he walked around to the other side of the desk. “Perhaps it is a spell that turns an attractive, willing woman into a shrew,” his voice was dangerously low.
Hermione looked back at Lucius, her eyes flashing with anger. Damn him. Didn’t he see the seriousness of the situation? They were, after all, his family possessions. This was all too much. “Mr. Malfoy. I really don’t give a damn what happens to your damn books. They can rot in hell for all I care at this point. And as for you – I have no idea why you decided to lower your standards and sleep with a ‘mudblood’ yesterday, unless you were so absolutely desperate and you had no other choice. And I have absolute no idea why I foolishly lowered my own standards. But I’ll be damned before that happens again. I came in here this morning to try to help save your ‘family heirlooms’, but I can see that my help would not be appreciated.” She stood up, collecting her papers. “I believe I am done with this conversation.”
Lucius grabbed her wrist, “You have no idea what you are talking about –“
“Let. Me. Go. Now. Or the Ministry will receive a full report on your behaviors, and I doubt that they’ll be as considerate with you as they have been in the past.” Hermione jerked her wrist free and stalked out of the room.
“Those would be your same friends in the Ministry who lied to you, I take it?” he asked softly to her retreating back.
~~~~
A/N: Effingo To duplicate
And yes, Lucius begins to fall drastically out of character at this point. But he’s sort of got to if the plot is to continue. Again, thanks for all the wonderful reviews. I really appreciate it!