Matched

CHAPTER TWO: Expectations





Hermione stood silently, staring at the door that connected her rooms to those of her new husband. She knew he was still awake, she had heard him enter not long ago and turn on the shower. She wanted to talk to him, needed to discuss a few things or she wouldn’t be able to sleep for pondering what he expected of her as his wife. She straightened her shoulders, tightening the sash on her soft pink satin robe, and gathered her courage to knock lightly on the door.



“Come in, that door doesn’t lock.” He called from the other side. Hermione opened the door and slowly entered his room. He was still inside his bathroom. She could see the steam drifting out from the open door; apparently he had just finished his shower. She glanced around the room, surprised by the dark ebony furniture and ice blue satin bedding. The walls were a soft gray-blue color and the floors littered with several authentic aubusson rugs. His sitting area boasted a large black leather chair and ottoman and small bar in the corner with crystal decanters and glasses atop a silver tray.



“Eager to consummate the marriage are we?” Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice interrupting her perusal of his bedroom. She turned to find him standing in the doorway, a towel slung low around his hips as he dried his overlong hair with another. She was rendered speechless as she stared at him. He was a Greek god personified. If Narcissus looked like that, she could understand how he would fall in love with his own image and waste away.



His chest and shoulders were broad and well defined, and his arms were a masterpiece of sculpted muscle that had her longing to reach out and touch. He was completely smooth, his skin a soft golden color. She let her gaze travel lower over his tight, rippled abdomen to the towel that seemed to barely cling to his hips. His legs were long and slender, and the corner of her mouth lifted slightly when she realized that even his feet were attractive.



“Do I pass inspection?” He asked as he sauntered into his bedroom and went to a low bureau and withdrew a pair of silk boxers. She gasped softly when he discarded the towel around his waist, tossing it carelessly to the floor as he bent over and stepped into the shorts. She couldn’t help but admire the muscled contours of his rather attractive backside, especially when she noticed the cute little dimples at the base of his spine.



“Um….don’t you think it’s a bit rude to parade about naked in front of someone else.” Hermione said, though she really couldn’t be all that upset about the transgression. Looking at the handsome blonde wizard had certainly been no imposition.



“Don’t muggles ever see their spouses naked?” He asked as he turned to face her.



“Yes, but we aren’t… I mean this isn’t a traditional marriage…aren’t you embarrassed?” She watched him walk across the room to his closet, admiring the slow, lazy way his body moved when he walked. He withdrew a long, black velvet dressing gown and pulled it over his shoulders. She was somewhat disappointed to have that lovely body hidden from her, but she would never tell him that.



“Why should I be embarrassed? This is my room after all. If it would satisfy your sense of fair play I’m happy to observe if you want to show me yours.” He drawled arrogantly as he fixed himself a drink and settled into his chair.



“No, thank you for the offer though.” She sat on the ottoman in front of his chair and stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. “I wanted to talk to you about this….arrangement.”



“By arrangement I assume you refer to our marriage.” He said, his glacier eyes sparkling with mischief.



“Yes. I had thought I would marry for love, or at least a mutual attraction and respect. Instead I find myself married to a man who, for all intents and purposes, attempted to take my life.”



“Ah yes, that did cross my mind as well. Funny how your failures return to haunt you isn’t it.” His arrogant tone would have been infuriating had she not seen him attempting to hide his smile by taking another sip from his glass.



“Yes, hilarious. Regardless, I am now your wife, and I would like to know what you expect of me.” Lucius thought about it for a moment, but had to admit he was having a hard time concentrating as he stared into the deep vee of her robes neckline and admiring the plump swells of her breasts beneath the rosy satin. Hermione rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers in his face. “Hello! I assure you they have no acoustic properties, I will not hear you any clearer if you speak into them.”



“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting them to be quite so…womanly.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “You are twenty-one, am I correct?”



“Yes, I’ll be twenty-two come October.”



“I can’t say I ever thought I would have a bride the same age as my child. I suppose I should be grateful Draco lives in Tuscany now, were people to see us all together they might assume you belonged to my son, or worse, that you were my child instead of my bride.”



“Again, I ask you, what do you expect of me as your wife.” He was easily distracted she noticed, his mind tending to wander, his gaze as well if his repeated glances down the front of her gown were any indication.



“The normal things I suppose. I expect you to manage the household staff, entertain occasionally, and you will accompany me to social events and the like.”



“And what about…intimacy. What about children?”





“Do you want children?” He asked, curious.



“Eventually, I would like to be a mother, how do you feel about children.” She asked.



“I can’t say really, I mean I am old enough to have grandchildren, I may have a few that I am not aware of given my son’s whorish tendencies. Never thought I’d father any half-bloods though. Do I have to make a decision tonight? Is that why you came, to get pregnant?” He asked. He was being a bastard, he knew that, but her reactions were fun to watch. She didn’t stand up and huff at him, or stomp her little foot in indignation like his former wife would have. His little mudblood bride just rolled her eyes and moved on like the good little soldier she was.



“You aren’t so terribly old, forty six if I remember correctly.”



“Very good Ms. Granger…oh wait, I should say Madam Malfoy now.”



“Hermione will do just fine. I didn’t come here tonight for any reason other than to establish some sort of …..plan for this marriage.” She said. “I just wanted to know what you want from me.”



“Like I said, I expect you to perform the normal duties of a housewife and companion. While I will not demand my husbandly rights…yet….. I do expect you to remain faithful, I will not be made a cuckold.”



“Then let me tell you what I expect of you, husband. I too must demand fidelity. I will not tolerate or risk you contaminating my body with something you picked up from some doxy or another. I expect you to treat me with respect, and I will not tolerate abuse of any sort from you.”



“For all my many faults, I do not abuse women.” He said.



“You tried to kill me, more than once.”



“It would have been quick….I didn’t intend to torture you first.” Hermione almost laughed, this conversation was ridiculous and deteriorating quickly. It seemed that her new husband had a rather odd, dark , almost sadistic sense of humor. “Are we settled for now? Because unless you are interested in a little conjugal bliss, I would like to get some sleep.”



“Very well, I suppose it doesn’t all have to be decided upon tonight does it?” She rose from the low stool and smiled. “Thank you, for the wedding rings. You didn’t have to do that you know.”



“Every woman deserves pretty things, even a muggle-born. Besides, you are married to a Malfoy, people need to recognize your position now as my wife.”



“What, you’re not going to call me a mudblood?” She asked, surprised by the less offensive use of the term muggle-born.



“Does vulgar language excite you?” He asked, one silver brow arched inquiringly.



“No, I don’t think so at any rate. Time will tell I suppose. Regardless, you have been quite pleasant about this whole thing and for that, I am grateful.”



“I have learned a valuable lesson from my years with the Dark Lord, Hermione. Change, though I despise it, is inevitable, and it is a waste of my breath to fight a losing battle with the powers that be.” He stood slowly and walked to his bed, setting his empty glass on the nightstand. “What is done, is done. We will make the best we can of this situation. I’m not so bad you know, well not that I expect you to believe me after that little incident in the ministry when I did in fact attempt to kill you….but I’ve changed…some.”



“Goodnight Lucius, I will see you at breakfast.” She said as she slipped through the door and into her own bedroom, closing it softly behind her. What was she to do now? She was expecting arrogant, aloof and cruel. She hadn’t been prepared for arrogant, charming and borderline sweet. How could she protect herself against that? She thought as she removed her robe and climbed into her bed.







“What an interesting little witch.” Lucius said as he stripped off his robe and tossed it to the end of his massive bed before crawling between the sheets. He had expected fear, defensiveness, and the cold shoulder to be honest. He hadn’t expected her to be warm, engaging and so willing to try for pleasantness. How was he supposed to retain the upper hand if she continued to surprise him?