When You Least Expect It

PART TWO
Hermione Apparated just outside the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Truth be told, she was very nervous. She’d not been to this particular house since that horrid night under Bellatrix’s wand. Unease had wrapped its tentacles around her body as she, stiffly, made her way to the front door.

Before she could knock, the door opened and before her stood the imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy. He was dressed in Muggle attire, an elegant black suit with a crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar and silver cufflinks adorning the cuffs. Hermione froze; any words she might have uttered remained clogged in her throat. Luckily, Lucius’ greeting gave her a moment to recover.

“Good evening, Ms. Granger.” Stepping aside, he invited her in with a wave of his hand. “Welcome to my home. Please, come in.”

Stepping over the threshold, Hermione stammered out a reply. “T-thank you, Mr. Malfoy.”

Hermione wondered where Draco and Pansy could be and why Lucius Malfoy, himself, had answered the door. Didn’t the man have an innumerate number of house-elves at his disposal?

As if reading her thoughts, he quietly stated, “Draco and Pansy are in the parlor waiting for us. We’ve only a limited number of elves this evening and they are focused on the meal.”

Taking her cloak, his eyes roamed across her figure. They burned darkly assessing her favorite Muggle dress – a strapless, tea-length dress that she categorized under her “little black dress” collection in her wardrobe. Her hair was swept back, away from her face, and tumbled over her shoulders in lush waves. Light makeup completed the elegant look she hoped to achieve.

Hermione shivered slightly under his gaze. “Shall we join them?” Merlin, she hoped she could make it through dinner without reliving her horrid memories.

Again, as if he knew exactly what was flittering through her mind, Lucius stated calmly. “I’ve had the entire Manor re-done. It was gutted after the war. All the . . . rooms . . . you might . . . remember are no longer in existence. It truly is a new Manor.” He nodded before offering his arm to escort her.

Not wishing to be rude, she told herself, Hermione placed her small hand through his arm and allowed him to guide her to where Draco and Pansy awaited them. They said nothing as they walked down a corridor and stopped before a pair of beautiful dark oak doors. Lucius paused then opened the door, motioning for Hermione to enter first.

“Hermione!” A warm pair of slender arms encircled Hermione. “You look gorgeous. Thank you so much for coming.”

Hermione smiled at Pansy then Draco, who stood back smirking at the exchange. “Granger, good evening. Thank you for coming. This means a lot to us.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“I can’t believe you did it, you sly dog. I was beginning to give up on you.” Hermione laughed and nudged Draco good-naturedly.

“Honestly, Granger, I would have expected a bit more faith from you.” He walked over to the bar. “Can I offer you anything? Butterbeer? Firewhiskey? Champagne?”

“Oh, a glass of white wine would be lovely, thank you.”

Lucius stood back, tall and proud, watching the three toss around pleasantries. Suddenly feeling out of place, he straightened his back and decided to take control of the situation. This was his home, after all. Honestly, the chit placed one well-heeled foot in the Manor and he felt like an outsider in his own house. Was he or was he not the king of his castle? Oh, he was.

He ignored Draco’s warning look and slight shake of his head. “Well, how wonderful that you’ve all gotten to . . . catch up. Shall we proceed to dinner?” Turning on his heel, he opened the door. “Ms. Parkinson, Ms. Granger, this way.”

“Quite right, Father. Thank you.” Draco smiled. “Ladies, allow me to escort you to dinner.”

Draco offered one arm to Pansy and the other to Hermione. Both smiled and accepted, chatting away as they walked past Lucius holding the door for them. Only Draco noticed his father’s narrowed eyes and widened nostrils. Smirking as we strolled past, the younger Malfoy couldn’t resist a final retort. “Thank you for holding the door, Father. Do join us?”

Lucius followed the trio, fuming silently.

****************************************
Dinner was an elegant affair. Hermione was gobsmacked at the elaborate meal. Course after course after course was served. She didn’t know where she would put it all. Finally, when dessert was announced, she breathed a sigh of relief. The evening was coming to an end.

She’d managed to avoid Lucius Malfoy for most of the evening. Oh, she’d been cordial and pleasant but her discussions with him never amounted to more than a simple phrase or a handful of words. She was quite proud of the fact that she’d not felt the need to hex him once.

Lucius, on the other hand, was seething. Annoyed, flustered and, in all frankness, quite put out, he felt the brunette’s iciness throughout the evening. He’d hoped she’d warm up a bit as the meal progressed but she managed to ignore him. Naturally, he’d hidden his emotions well. He had no wish to ruin the evening for his son, after all. However, if that little high-handed swot thought she was leaving without dealing with him, she had another thing coming.

No one ignored Lucius Malfoy.

After dessert had ended, he rose and announced, imperiously. “Shall we retire to the drawing room by the gardens? Tea and brandy will be served.”

Wide-eyed and caught unawares at the thought of having to spend further time in this man’s presence, Hermione attempted to excuse herself for the evening. “Oh, I’m afraid that I cannot stay. But thank you for the kind invitation.”

Pansy would have none of this and smiled slyly. “Nonsense, of course you’re staying for tea and brandy. You can’t leave me alone with these two. Come along, darling.” Without hesitating, Pansy grabbed Hermione’s hand and all but dragged her out of the dining room.

Draco held back with his father. “If you don’t make a move, I’m going to kill you myself, old man.” Draco then swept past Lucius and followed the two women.

Perplexed at first, Lucius watched his son leave. He deliberated his arrival to ponder Draco’s parting words. His son was trying to help him and his fiancée was also involved. Smiling wickedly, he shook his head: three Slytherins against a lone Gryffindor. She didn’t stand a chance.

Straightening to his full height, he picked up his pace and joined the others. Walking in, he saw Draco pointing out the gardens to both ladies. What a fortuitous moment.

“Draco, why don’t you take a stroll with Ms. Parkinson through the gardens while I entertain Ms. Granger.” He stared at Hermione, directly, and watched as she gasped at his statement before turning to glare at him. “Go on, young lovers, enjoy the gardens.” Lucius moved to stand close to Hermione to circumvent a potential escape.

Draco grinned and nodded before grabbing Pansy’s hand and walking out the double doors. Pansy smirked and blew Hermione a kiss and wave. “Talk tomorrow, Hermione. I’ve a feeling we might not be back.” Giggling, she let Draco drag her away.

Flabbergasted, Hermione stood motionless. She needed to get out, now. She coughed and cleared her throat. “Yes, well . . . right. Goodnight then, Mr. Malfoy.”

She tried to move past him but he, deftly, grabbed her round her waist. “Not so fast, little witch. I promised to entertain you. Can’t let my son and Ms. Parkinson down, now can I?”

“Unhand me, sir.” Hermione struggled to remove his strong arms and wide hands from her body.

“I think not. We’ve been playing at this game for several months and I, for one, am quite tired of it. You like games, don’t you, you little wildcat.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Malfoy.”

Lucius bent his head to whisper hotly in her ear. “I think you do, Hermione.”

Stilling her movements at the use of her name, Hermione swallowed thickly. Her voice was slightly hoarse as she replied, “I-I believe this has gone long enough. Please let me go.”

For a moment, he hesitated before doing as she asked and Hermione felt cold as the warmth of his strong body left her feeling bereft. She couldn’t explain the feeling of disappointment that washed over her. Catching her breath, she turned to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” He sounded amused.

“Home.”

“I think not.”

Whirling, she looked at him, questioningly. “Pardon?”

“Let’s play a game, shall we? You do like games, don’t you, Hermione.”

The continued use of her given name made her shiver. “Sir, I believe you have me confused with one of your Knockturn Alley trollops. And I don’t believe I’ve given leave to address me in quite so a familiar manner, Mr. Malfoy.”

His laughter was genuine, rich and deep. “Oh, Hermione, after tonight, we’ll be very well acquainted. You’ll be screaming out my name before the evening is through, I assure you.”

“How dare you make such a lewd suggestion? I assure you, you’ll be screaming out for mercy when I hex your bits into another dimension.”

“Oh, I dare that and so much more. But enough of this foreplay, yes? Let’s play a game.” Slowly, Lucius advanced towards her. He was sure he might appear menacing but he was equally set in the knowledge that the little she-cat could more than handle him.

Hermione backed away slowly, her fingers twitching to pull her wand, if necessary. “What are you doing? Stay where you are. I warn you . . .”

Trapping her against the door frame, Lucius grinned. “I mean no harm. I merely wish to explain the rules of the game.”

“But I don’t want to play any game.” Gods, the man was hot. Hermione could feel her body blush from head to toe.

One hand came up to caress her cheek, gently. “I think you do. It’s a very simple game.” His eyes traveled over her features, he could read her desire so easily. It was that very innocence that captivated him so thoroughly. “Listen closely, for I’ll only share the rules once. Are you listening, Hermione?”

His voice had dropped an octave. He sounded sinfully delicious. All of the fighting Hermione had been doing with herself seemed to suddenly melt away. Hermione allowed herself to be mesmerized because she nodded slowly. How much harm could there be? It was just a silly game, after all. Wasn’t it?

“Good. Now, I’m going to open the door and you’re going to try and get away, yes?”

Blinking and ignoring a rush of disappointment, Hermione thought to herself it was a stupid game. She would make a beeline to the door, straightaway.

The blond git seemed to have read her mind. “Ah, but it’s not quite as simple as merely walking to the front door. What fun would that be?” Lucius chuckled. “The Manor will be a maze and you, my sweet little witch, will have to find your way out. If you do, then you get to go home and I’ll not bother you again.”

“A-and if I lose?” A tiny shiver of desire ran down her spine.

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Lucuis merely let her go and backed away. “You’ll have a twenty second head start. No wands, if you please. I don’t fancy having my bits hexed. I shall, of course, also comply.”

Breathing heavily, Hermione shook her head. “Wait, you didn’t answer my question. What if I lose?”

He ignored her and pulled out an expensive-looking gold pocket watch. “Ready?”

“Wait . . .”

“Set.”

“But, I’m not . . .”

“Go!”

“ . . . ready.”

“Nineteen seconds, Hermione.”

Anger welled through her body. “Listen here you . . .”

“Eighteen seconds. You’re not very good at this, are you?”

“How dare . . .”

Tapping his foot, Lucius’ grin spread into a smile. “Seventeen seconds. I can’t believe I’m going to win so easily.”

Eyes wide at that statement, Hermione turned then yanked open the door and rushed from the room. “Fuck you, overgrown bastard. You won’t win.”

“Sixteen seconds. Good luck.”

His laughter followed Hermione as the door slammed shut behind her and she wildly took in her surroundings. The Manor had indeed changed. Gone was the elaborate new foyer and now the entire floor was black and white checkered, like a chess set. The staircase had disappeared and, instead, there were three corridors leading away from the drawing room. Each was lined with doors.

“Bloody pureblooded prick,” she muttered before dashing down the middle hallway. It seemed as good as any place to start.

****************************************
Back in the drawing room, Lucius Malfoy was bent over in laughter. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t hexed him and had actually complied.

He suspected that she wanted him, this clearly proved it. He couldn’t wait to catch her.

Feeling a familiar tightening of his loins, he allowed all sort of licentious thoughts run rampant through his mind. With only ten seconds to go, he had every intention of catching his pretty prize and claiming his reward.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he also removed his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves.

Three. Two. One.

This was going to be fun. He opened the door and stepped out into the transformed foyer.

Now, which way could she have gone? Smirking, he realized it didn’t really matter. All the corridors and doors lead to the same place, after all: his bedroom.

****************************************
Bloody hell. She was going to castrate Lucius Malfoy.

Her feet hurt and her hair had come undone, it was flying all over her face. It felt as if she’d been running forever. She’d now taken off her heels and had stopped, unsure of what to do next.

She’d been hesitant to try one of the doors, afraid to get locked in an unknown room. But the more she ran, now walked, she began to realize that she might be going in circles. What a damn Slytherin! Served her right for playing games with a Malfoy.

Huffing a wayward curl from her face, she opted for trudging on a bit further before opening one of the doors.

****************************************
He was getting very impatient.

He’d been waiting for nearly an hour in his bedroom. He couldn’t believe she had yet to try one of the doors. Impertinent witch, didn’t she realize she was walking in circles? Of course she did, she was Hermione Granger. She was prolonging the inevitable.

Damn it. He would have to go and flush her out, after all.

Huffing, he pulled open his door with more force than necessary and entered the hallway.

****************************************
Lucius Malfoy was a dead man, Hermione thought as she slumped down on a wall. Merlin, she was exhausted. Really, what kind of game was this?

Was this meant to entice? If so, it wasn’t working.

Was it meant to lead her on a merry chase? Of her own tail, perhaps?

Was it meant to endear her to Lucius Malfoy? Most certainly not. She once again closed her eyes and indulged in thoughts of dismembering him, piece by piece. The thought made her smile.

Was it meant to wear her down? Well, there she would concede. She was exhausted.

She groaned aloud. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath and a warm bed.

“Hermione?”

Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at the voice. Oh for the love of . . . it was Lucius Malfoy, in the flesh. She would have stood, really she would have, but she was just too tired.

“Hermione, are you all right? Why are you on the floor? Are you hurt?” Genuine concern seemed evident as he knelt down.

“Once I get my strength back, I’m going to dismember you slowly, piece by piece. Fair warning,, Lucius.” Hermione signed and leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. “For now, I’m content to sit here while my aching feet take a rest.”

Her eyes flew open when Lucius picked her up. “What are you doing? Put me down this instant.”

“I don’t think so, stubborn wench. Honestly, you’ve been walking round in circles for two hours. Did you know that? Why didn’t you go in through one of the doors?” Carrying her, he managed to, wandlessly, open one of the doors and strode into what was clearly his bedroom.

“Well, because I suspected it was a trap. And it would appear I’m correct. This one is your bedroom.”

Stopping at the foot of a massive bed, Lucius smirked. “Actually, they all lead to my bedroom.” Then he dumped her, quite unceremoniously on top.

Whatever retort she would have given quickly died on her lips. The bed felt divine. The sheets were cool under her fingertips, the mattress plush yet with a hint of sturdy plumpness – it was just heavenly. She turned face down and slid her arms across the expanse of what her arms could reach. Really, once she got her strength back, she would hex him six ways from Sunday.

Any other thoughts were lost as she dozed off.

Lucius was shocked. The chit had fallen asleep. Sighing he sat on the bed. This evening was not going as planned. She should have been in his bed by now – technically she was but not like this. Glancing over his shoulder he eyed the sleeping form of the witch that had completely enraptured him. She looked lovely.

Perusing her form, Lucius had a deviously delectable thought. He was a pervert he knew but he was curious as to what might lay under that dress.

He knelt down and slowly, so as to not disturb Hermione, lifted her skits a bit. He couldn’t see a thing. Huffing, he lifted her skirt higher but still nothing. Feeling bold, he inched up her skirt and his breath caught at what he saw. The little minx was in the tiniest pair of knickers Lucius had ever seen. They were a scrap of black lace stretched across a plush bottom, with two little bows on the side holding it together.

He was hard and his fingers itched to touch her but instead he took a breath and carefully lowered her skirt, smoothing it down lightly. He climbed onto the bed and lay next to the recumbent goddess served up so beautifully on his bed.

Kissing one shoulder, he whispered in her ear. “Hermione . . . Hermione . . .” His goddess moaned. “Shall we continue to play?”

Hermione eyes fluttered open. She must have fallen asleep. Stretching a bit, she shivered and realized she was on Lucius Malfoy’s bed. Awareness finally registered and she sat up and back. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“You looked quite lovely, sleeping on my bed.”

Hermione glanced to her right and found Lucius on his back. “You!” Glaring at him, she turned and would have bounded off the bed but he caught her and rolled her under him, in one smooth move.

She pushed at him with her hands. “Let me up, you beast.”

“No.”

“So, you’d force yourself on a defenseless woman?”

“You’re hardly defenseless. You’re the smartest and most powerful witch of your generation. And, for your information, I have never, nor will I ever, force myself on anyone. And with you it wouldn’t be force, and you know it. You want me as much as I want you.” He kissed her then, a peck really. It was quite endearing. “No, don’t say a word. Listen, please. I’m attracted to you and you to me. Don’t bother denying it. I’ve tried everything to court you, yet you defeat me at every turn. In all honestly, I’m tired of this – I’ll ask you once and in all frankness: do you wish to see me? Will you allow me to woo you properly? If not, then I shall escort you home and not darken your doorstep ever again. If yes, well, then you’re not leaving. Think and answer carefully, Hermione.”

Hands resting lightly on his chest and Lucius on top of her looking at her with the most earnest expression she’d ever seen, forced her to come to only one conclusion. She was equally tired – but she was tired of being alone, feeling unwanted, thinking she was undesirable. Here was a wizard all but proclaiming his affections and she had nearly thrown it away. Well, the wizarding world be damned. She would take the risk and gamble it all.

“I-I want you as well, Lucius. I . . .”

Anything else she might have said was cut off by his lips. Passion, frustration and need were mutually shared in one kiss. Gentle bites, and tongues tasting and twirling together left them both taking deep breaths as they pulled apart.

“Your trembling, little witch.”

“I think I’m a bit afraid.”

“Of me? I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Yes, well, no – of what you make me feel.”

“And how is that?” He kissed her nose.

“Safe. You make me feel safe, Lucius.”

“You as well, little witch, you as well.” He kissed her deeply. “Now, let’s play a game, shall we?” His hands slide down pushing up her skirt and parting her thighs to allow him to nestle in between her legs, and then he ground his thick erection into her dampening core.

She gasped. “Oh . . . oh my . . .”

****************************************
They were both, finally, naked. After heated snogging and a slow seduction, Lucius had her where he wanted. And Hermione was, most definitely, where she wanted.

She was stretched out below him. Her body smooth with generous curves in all the right places. He felt his mouth water at the thought of tasting her. Would she moan? Would she writhe? Would she grind her hips into his face?

He was going to find out.

Right now.

“Are you nervous, Hermione?” One hand caressed the underside of her breasts. “Relax.” Two hands rested on her thighs, spreading them wide to swing her legs on his shoulders. Her breathing, he could see, was becoming labored and harsh. “Ssshhh . . .” He grinned at her gasp when he blew on the soft nest of curls. “I won’t bite . . . too hard.”

Lucius attacked her mons like a starving man. He licked, sucked, nibbled and bit until she could feel her juices flowing down her buttocks. Barely coherent, he held her on the edge – a heavenly mixture of pleasure and pain coursing through her body. When he thrust his tongue into her, she cried out his name. The man was torturing her, alternating between slow and fast, tender and rough, gentle and demanding. He played her body like a master musician. Her cries, moans and gasps were his symphony.

Her mind was reeling, a whirlwind of want and need. She was unsure which danced in her subconscious and which she said aloud. ‘Yes, oh yes.’ ‘Don’t stop.’ ‘Please . . . there, Lucius.’ ‘Lick me . . . make me come, please.’

She was trembling and on the verge of release when he stopped. “Noooo . . . please . . .”

“Sssh, calm down.” He soothed her hot skin with cool fingers. “Tell me what you need.” Lucius voice was quiet and authoritative. Lowering her legs gently, he nestled his body between them, his thick cock positioned against her wetness.

With her hands bound above her head and his hands firmly gripping her hips, Hermione could barely move. But she tried to buck up against his form, he only chuckled lightly. “Please, Lucius . . . please . . .”

He moaned as he bent to envelope one plump breast with his mouth. Greedily, he sucked on the nipple while toying with the other with his hand. Lust-driven need propelled him to feast first on one taut bud then the other, until she was working her hips against him. He continued to lick and nibble on her flesh, his hand trailing down to test her readiness.

“You’re so wet for me, witch.” He gently inserted a finger. In and out. In and out. “I’m sure you’d rather have something bigger than my finger, wouldn’t you?”

“Ah . . . y-y-yesss . . . oh . . .” Her words came out in a feverish whisper.

Hard and burning with longing to bury himself into this slip of a woman, Lucius held back. “Tell me what you want, Hermione.”

In and out. In and out.

That finger was blessed agony.

“What do you want?” He pulled her breast into his mouth once more, flicking his tongue over her sensitive nub. Never once ceasing the assault of that single digit. “Say it.”

Hermione’s body was covered in a fine sheen of perspiration. Her body was aflame with unfulfilled completion. Merlin, she wanted him to fuck her, and fuck her hard. “F-fuck me, just fuck me.” Did he want her to beg? She would, if he asked, and they both knew it.

“How?”

“Ugh, hard. I need you to fuck me, hard.”

“And so I will. I take it you like my game?”

“Yes, oh yes.”

Smirking, Lucius bent to suckle at her taut buds once more. “Mmmm.” Releasing it with a wet pop, he lined up his cock and rubbed it up and down her slit.

She groaned.

“Good. I like to play games. We’ll play so many games, little witch.” Positioning himself at her pussy, he pushed in and buried himself balls deep. He flung his head back; it had been so long since he’d felt anything so delicious.

Hermione felt stretched. The man was thick and a good length. She clenched her muscles around him and received a moan. Biting her lip, she bucked against him, once again.

“You like my cock, witch? Tell me how much you like it.” He pulled out, and then thrust in, again.

“Oh, I love it. More . . . more . . .”

“This.” Push. “Changes.” Swivel. “Everything.” Picking up his speed, Lucius kept his strokes deep and steady. He had no intention of letting her go. After tonight, she was his and he was hers. Period.

Hermione stopped thinking and let her body just feel as he began to fuck her harder. She begged for more and Lucius didn’t disappoint. Soon, the sounds of skin slapping together filled the room; mingled with moans, grunts, sighs and, eventually, keening.

Lucius was right. She was screaming his name – all night long.

****************************************
Pushing the door open to The Beggar’s Brew, her favorite pub in Diagon Alley’s, Hermione Granger was seriously contemplating her upcoming vacation to the Greek Isles. The thought of the sun, warm breezes and bright azure waters of the Mediterranean made her head reel.

Merlin, she couldn’t wait. Grateful she’d decided to not throw caution to the wind and fly for the other team just one year ago; she made her way to a table in the back. Her thoughts turned to a pleasant topic that never ceased to make her smile.

Lucius Malfoy. Just the name made her knickers dampen. Dirty bastard!

Hermione couldn’t help grin at the lascivious thoughts that raced through her mind of just that very morning’s activities. She closed her eyes to relive those moments. Blindfolded, naked, face down, rump in the air, her skin hypersensitive to touch, her breath in short puffs of desire and want; then suddenly . . .

There was a loud thump in front of her. Her eyes flew open in shock to see a bottle of Lindeman’s Framboise, along with a glass, sitting in front of her.

“Hello Hermione. This was from the gentleman over by the large table in front of the fireplace. Said you looked like you could use it.” Clara smiled as she chucked a nod behind her, and then walked away.

Hermione turned a narrowed gaze to eye the male who had sent over the – albeit delicious – beer. There he sat, in all his smug glory with a pint of dark lager in front of him. Her eyes feasted on his manly beauty, as she inventoried him from head to toe. Taking hold of the bottle in one hand and glass in the other, she rose and slowly sauntered her way to the other table.

“I hope you don’t plan on pouring that on my head,” Lucius Malfoy said, with a smile and wink.

A deep throaty laugh escaped Hermione. “Have you done anything to deserve that type of treatment?”

They stared at each other for a good five minutes; all the while Clara and Seamus watched them with amusement. Finally, Lucius rose, pulled out a chair and motioned for Hermione to sit. She complied. He sat back down and covered her delicate hand with his large one. And just like that, with one touch, her body relaxed.

They spent the next two hours eating, drinking and sharing details of their day. It had been a year since the dinner at Malfoy Manor. Lucius and Hermione had been a couple since that night. Eventually, Hermione and Ron had patched up their friendship, though it was far from perfect she was happy because she valued his friendship above their romance. Harry had apologized for his behavior and was back in her good graces. Both had been flabbergasted when she’d told them she was dating Lucius. But she’d made it clear that they had no say in the matter and she expected them to be civil or deal with the consequences. While not quite friends, all three did tolerate each other; which made her life easier.

Hermione still worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement but Lucius had decided to take up his old post on the Hogwart’s Board of Governors – with their blossoming relationship, they both didn’t want to work with each other on a daily basis. However, Lucius wanted her to move into Malfoy Manor, whereas she wanted to keep her flat. It seemed as if all their conversations, of late, came back to this topic.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just move into the Manor. You’re there nearly every night.”

Exasperated, Hermione sighed. “Lucius, I like my flat. There’s no reason to move into the Manor. Besides, it’s nice to have a space to go to if we argue.”

A flash of anger crossed his handsome features. “Is that so? You like your flat? Or do you simply mean that you don’t wish to commit further to this relationship, Ms. Granger?”

“Lucius . . .”

He held up a hand. “No, no more. I don’t know what I need to do to convince you that I care for you . . . that I . . . l-love you. I want you to move in with me. I want something . . . more. I’m not a man who speaks of his emotions, as you know, as I’m not very good at expressing myself quite so intimately. Since Narcissa, I’ve not felt a thing for any witch, except you, Hermione.”

“Lucius . . .”

Fists curled, he soldiered on. “I’m not finished. I know you’re thinking this isn’t the most ideal place but then again, nothing about our relationship is quite ideal. Who would have thought I would fall for such a gorgeous, intelligent, stubborn Muggle-born. And you would love a reformed, old ex-Death Eater such as I? Stranger things have happened, and know this, I worship you, little witch. And I want you in my life, always. Do you expect to live in your flat when we’re married? Or when you’re pregnant with my child? Or when our son goes off to Hogwarts? Do you?”

“Oh, Lucius . . .”

Still he continued. “Hermione, this is an ultimatum. I demand we take our relationship to the next level. I demand the world know you’re mine, and I yours. I want to get married, have children, love, laugh and live together. I demand you to move into the Manor, and . . .”

“Lucius, do shut up!”

And right there, at the table inside The Beggar’s Brew, Hermione Granger kissed Lucius Malfoy, not caring who was privy to their intimate moment.

Lucuis broke free of the kiss. “Is that a yes, then?”

Giggling in a very un-Hermione-like manner, she replied, “Yes.”

“Yes to moving in? Yes to marrying me? Yes to having my children? Yes to what, exactly?”

“Yes to everything, you dolt! I love you, as well.”

Smirking in a very Malfoy-like manner, he smugly answered, “Good.”

Lucius snogged her silly, and very publically, amidst three cheers led by Seamus. He reached into his pocket, threw a handful of galleons on the table and Apparated home, with his witch in his arms.

In a dark corner, two lone shadows had watched the display in its entirety; one blond young man who resembled Lucius Malfoy and the other older, with dark hair. Clinking their pint glasses together, they grinned widely.

“Finally,” moaned Severus Snape.

Draco Malfoy nodded in agreement. “Well, two down, one to go; old man.”

“Pardon, Draco? What does that mean?”

A ghost of a smirk dancing across his face, Draco replied, “You’re next, Godfather. There’s a witch out there for you, mark my words.”

Sputtering his ale, Severus choked and coughed in disbelief. “Are you mad? I’m too old, I’m not even interested . . .”

“Don’t bother denying it. It’ll just make it worse.” Draco took another sip of his pint. “It happens to everyone, when you least expect it.”

Severus groaned, Draco laughed aloud. Life went on.

- fin -

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