LUCKY

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this tale, and receive no proceeds from it. All borrowed courtesy of Ms. J.K. Rowling.

Thank you to my kind and encouraging reviewers!

CHAPTER THREE

It was as Hermione was putting on her robes to leave for work Friday that the owl arrived. After giving the owl a treat, she opened the note. Lucius wanted to meet with her that night to discuss the details of their betrothal and had included a portkey.

‘Well, he’s in for a surprise,’ thought Hermione. 'I’m not going be some fucking lapdog. Trophy wife my arse.'

Tossing the note down on the kitchen table and picking up the portkey that her affianced had provided, Hermione left for the Ministry. It was going to be a long day.

It seemed almost anti-climatic when Mr. Barrett congratulated her on securing the Jr. Charms Mistress post. Hermione found herself smiling dutifully and being ushered to a small, airless office.

“Well, Ms. Granger, this certainly is impressive. You should be quite proud of yourself. Imagine, your own office. I’m sure you’ll be very happy now,” announced Mr. Barrett officiously.

Hermione smiled wanly again.

Visibly puffing out his chest, the administrator continued,“Now, no need to thank me my dear. I did recommend you, of course. However, we’ll keep that between us, what.” With that parting comment, Mr. Barrett left Hermione.

Hermione spent the remainder of the day transferring all her files and organising her new space. She would start her new duties on the Monday and knew that this would be her last free afternoon in a while.

It was an exhausted witch that returned to her solitary flat that night. Hermione forced herself to shower and shampoo. Looking at herself in the full length mirror, she ran a hand down her body. Her breasts were average sized, firm with small nipples.

‘Nothing special,’ she thought frowning.

Her stomach wasn’t as flat as she would like, but her waist was tiny. She needed a small waist with her nearly narrow hips. However, her legs were certainly shapely. Wiggling her toes, Hermione smiled. At least she had pretty toes. Her feet were her one real vanity. Slender and well shaped, Hermione always kept them soft and sweet-smelling. She never painted them, instead enjoyed the sight of the well buffed, pink nail beds more.

Hermione laughed to herself. Pretty legs and toes. Hopefully, when the pureblood community looked down their noses they would enjoy the scenery.

Opening her wardrobe, the brown-haired witch viewed her limited selection with dissatisfaction. She finally put on a sleeveless jersey knit dress. It was a rich dark red and gave Hermione a curvaceous figure.

She crossed to her dressing table and sat down. The lit mirror showed a pale face with fine skin and haunted eyes. Her fatigue was evident in the dark shadows under eyes. Charming the shadows away, Hermione applied a light amount of makeup. She looked sweetly feminine. She frowned at the image in the mirror. While she didn’t want to appear frumpy, she certainly didn’t want to encourage Lucius to take liberties.

Hermione crossed the room and picked up a cashmere wrap. Stowing her wand safely, she picked up the portkey, a coin. Time to face the dragon. She was smiling at the thought when the familiar pull of the portkey began. Thankfully the smile was erased before she landed at Lucius Malfoy’s front door.

The enormous door opened seemingly of its own accord. Tentatively Hermione stepped forward. The door swung on its hinge and closed behind her. The nervous witch willed herself not to jump.

“Miss Granger,” Lucius' voice gave away his location.

He stood in evening attire at a doorway a bit to her left. He left his post at the doorway to stand in front of her. Blonde hair pulled back into a queue at his neck gave Lucius an old world elegance. He had eschewed his formal robes in an effort to put the young witch at ease. A futile gesture as her nervousness was very evident.

“Welcome to Malfoy Manor,” his lips twisted bit not quite smiling, “I’m happy to see you have arrived safely. Leave your wrap and wand here, the house elves will see to it.” He plucked the portkey from her other hand.

Leaving her wand did not sit well with Hermione and she defiantly tucked it into her side. Shaking his head slightly, Lucius held out an arm which Hermione took tentatively. He led her to a spacious room. It was richly appointed. While she had never cared what furniture graced a room, she knew enough to recognise well cared for artifacts. It made her wary of taking seat. She perched herself on the edge of an upholstered sofa.

“What would you like to drink,” queried Lucius.

Biting her lip briefly, she replied, “A white wine would be lovely, thank you.”

Soon she found herself with a flute in hand as the platinum wizard sprawled elegantly next to her. Hermione found that in such close quarters that she could smell Lucius. He smelt faintly spicy, with an underlying scent of sandalwood. As he lifted his own glass, filled with an amber liquid, to his lips Hermione could feel those cold eyes on her. He was probably cataloguing her every visible fault. Tamping down the urge to squirm, she forced herself to sit still under his perusal.

“I see you finally managed to tame that head of hair,” a hand lifted to tug at a gleaming lock.

Shock engulfed Hermione at Lucius’ gesture. She could barely breathe. He was touching her. Well, not her exactly, but close enough. As she’d always considered a hand in her hair very intimate, it was quite disconcerting. She was not a woman that encouraged casual touches.

Quirking a shapely brow, she replied, “A simple matter of a good cut. Please don’t touch my hair.” Pulling back slightly she removed her hair from the long fingers that held it. “I don’t like being touched by people I don’t know well.”

The cruel set of Lucius’ mouth lifted into a sketch of a smile. He downed the remainder of his drink in a quick movement. The peeved wizard’s next remark was stifled as a house elf appeared to announce dinner. It wasn’t until they’d been seated in the cavernous dining room that he returned to their previous conversation.

“Surely you can’t expect a betrothed couple to never touch,” his deep voice continued, “If anything, everyone would find it suspect if we avoided physical contact. You’ll just have to accustom yourself to my touch.”

Hermione lifted a spoon of her soup to her mouth staving off the diatribe that hung at the edge of her tongue. He was mad if he thought that she would allow him to fondle her, especially in public. Feeling that she had gained control of her anger, Hermione plunged into speech.

“Mr. Malfoy, I think we need to set some ground rules before this goes any further.” Hermione looked Lucius straight in the eyes. She wanted no misconceptions at this point. “I understand the need for seeming at ease with each other in public. However, it does not mean that we should engage in needless groping. We are not hormonal teenagers.”

“No, Hermione, indeed we are not,” came the smirking reply.

The sound of her name on Lucius lips was foreign and had her frowning slightly. Taking it as a sign that he would listen, Hermione forged ahead as if he had not responded.

“This farce that we are embarking on is first and foremost for public consumption. In private there should be no need to prevaricate whatsoever. I will treat you respectfully and expect the same in return.” Seeing that Lucius was attentively listening Hermione continued her lecture. “Harry, Ginny and Ron are all aware that we are now betrothed. They are quite upset and that will certainly be noted by all and sundry. I suggest that by behaving as circumspectly as possible that we can quieten any negative rumours that may surface. So I suggest that we do not pretend to be madly in love. I could never pull that off.”

Hermione lifted her glass of water and wetted her parched throat. Nerves had made her dry. “I don’t want any sloppy smooching, arse patting, bosom groping, and if your...” at this point her gaze narrowed threateningly, “member ever touches any part of me, I assure you I shall mourn your loss with the masses.”

At this point Lucius simply raised a blonde brow, as if to question her ability to maim him. “Really... how bloodthirsty,” came the laconic reply.

Hermione ignored his goading. “Obviously I expect you’ll provide a wardrobe for me if we are to go out. I would appreciate you giving me at least a few days warning before any event that you expect me to attend. And lastly, if I ever hear you use the word mudblood when speaking of me...it’s over.”

When it seemed that she was finally finished, Lucius looked pointedly at her place and quietly ordered, “Eat.”

Looking down, Hermione belatedly realized that the course had changed. With a slight flush she plucked at the flaky fish before her. The pair made their way through the entire meal with only occasional comments. It was reminiscent of their first meal.

When Lucius stood to return to the drawing room, Hermione was slightly surprised. The time had passed so quickly. Standing, she accompanied Lucius silently. As she again found her place on the sofa, Hermione realized she was confused by Lucius’ lack of response. She turned to look at him leaning against the dark wood of the bar.

Lucius pushed away moving with panther-like grace. Holding out his hand he commanded, “Accio Hermione’s wand.”

Hermione watched in shock for a moment before she realized what he had done. Coming to her feet, Hermione found herself at the end of Lucius’ own wand.

“Down girl,” Lucius said sharply at her challenging stance. “If you behave like bitch, then one has no recourse but to respond accordingly. Now, sit down.” The last came from behind clenched teeth.

The stunned witch sat down gracelessly. Lucius sat in a chair across from her with his wand still pointed at her.

“Now,” his voice was low and deep. “You are going remain quiet and listen. I will return your wand to you once we come to an agreement.”

Seeing Hermione’s mulish countenance, he almost laughed out loud. He didn’t because he had a point to make. He’d be damned if he would let some starched-knickered Mudblood to dictate to him.

“First, I will gladly provide you with a new wardrobe. Second, I am happy that you were so forthright with Potter and his sidekick. Which is why I will expect you to make up with Potter as soon as possible. The Weasley spawn is of no import.” Lucius ticked off a digit for each point. “Third, I do not engage in unseemly behaviour in public. However, I will not tolerate your looking like a startled doe every time I touch you.”

Hermione burst into speech, “Harry is not going to just suddenly forgive me, Mr. Malfoy. And Ron is very close to him. What hurts Ron affects Harry. Perhaps, you don’t quite understand that Ron knows that I am in love with him. He’s always known. There has never been anyone else. Now my friends think that I’ve left him solely to further my career.” At this Hermione stood, her voice raising, “I’ve lost my one chance at happiness, so forgive me if I balk at the idea of another man touching me at the moment!”

Her heaving chest had Lucius riveted causing his groin to tighten. He had to shut this harpy up before he did something unforgivable.

Flinging down the wands in the chair, Lucius leapt up to seize Hermione by the arms. “I am not some other man. We are betrothed.” He pulled her so close his chest mashed her breasts. “I’ll be damned if I’m cuckolded by an overgrown schoolboy.”

He lowered his head and kissed Hermione forcefully. The feel of his firm lips against her own frightened her. Lucius’ arms felt like iron bands around her. Hermione struggled against his much larger body futilely. Unexpectedly, she felt a swipe of silky tongue along the seam of her mouth. One of Lucius’ large hands traveled to cup the back of her head as his lips gentled. His other hand went further afield to her knead her backside. He nipped at her lower lip, enticing them into opening slightly. That small fissure was all he needed to gain entrance.

Hermione was shocked that this kiss caused a responding kick in her stomach. A response that spread lower, its heat enveloping her legs causing them to buckle a bit. Lucius took advantage of this to lower them both to the sofa. The weight of his body on her own caused her to cry out.

Pulling back from her lips, Lucius surveyed the damage. Her lips were swollen and her face flushed with either temper or passion. He could care less. Her artless coiffure had unraveled and wild, silken curls encircled Hermione’s head. But her eyes were his undoing. Heavy lidded and clouded with desire, those eyes beckoned Lucius to continue.

Unfortunately, Hermione had begun to gather her wits and turned her head from the return of his lips. She felt him kiss her from her jaw to her neck.

‘This had to stop,’ she thought.

“Stop. Mr. Malfoy, please stop,” she pleaded in a voice hoarse with want.

“Lucius. My name is Lucius,” the kisses had moved back to her jaw and dangerously close to her mouth. “Say it, Hermione. Lucius.”

Hoping to stave off further oral exploration, Hermione whispered, “Lucius. Please. Stop.”

Lucius held Hermione’s jaw and forced her to look at him. His gray eyes bore into her own. He wanted nothing more than to shove up her skirts and plunge deep within her. But she was not ready and he did not want to scare her silly. But he knew he had to impress upon her the finality of their decision.

“We are betrothed Hermione. If I even suspect that you are playing me false, you will regret it until your next lifetime.” His light eyes hardened in warning, “As I am rather fond of my body as it is, attempt to maim me at your own peril.”

He traced a finger across her lips down to the cleft between her breasts. His touch left a burning trail on her sensitive skin. He held her gaze with his own leaving Hermione feeling stripped of all artifice.

His next words came in a low growling purr. “I can guarantee you that when I do fuck you, maiming will be the last thing you’ll consider. You’ll be so busy coming around my cock you won’t have a thought in your head.”

Deeply offended by Lucius’ crude words, Hermione started to struggle violently. Laughing at her umbrage, he carefully extricated himself from the sofa.

He crossed to where their wands lay. Picking up the coin he had given Hermione to portkey to the mansion, he tossed it to her. She caught it reflexively.

“As you are still in a state, I’ll owl your wand home to you. Ciao.” Lucius smirked as she began to protest. Hermione never got a full word out before the activated portkey sent her back.

A livid Hermione cursed the day she ever heard the name Malfoy.