Daughter of Leda

Hermione slept in the next morning, excitement and questions having kept her up late. She’d always scorned divination, but armed with this new knowledge of her great-great-grandmother, Hermione had promptly read everything she had on the subject. It had been generally enlightening, but offered little as far as her actual situation went. Still, knowledge was worth having, and she was sure it would come in handy. Although, she did rather think a trip to Flourish & Blotts might be in order.

Noon wasn’t far past when the owl came with her latest letter. She opened it quickly, completely intrigued.

Dearest Lady,

I would be delighted if you would call me Lucius.

Allow me to assure you that, by the Vow I took as a young boy, you will be safe so long as you are at Malfoy Manor and when our visit is over I will see to taking you safely to wherever you wish. No matter your identity, I will allow no harm to befall you.

I have included a portkey in hopes you will accept this invitation.

Your servant,

Lucius

Still my servant, but no longer humble, she thought, laughing. It was a pretty solid promise for her safety, she had to admit. Even for a Malfoy. The old Hermione would have automatically refused because it was just too dangerous. This Hermione though couldn’t help remembering Leda’s insistence she trust her intuition, and for some strange reason Hermione was certain she should go.

She considered coming up with some lie about why she was leaving the house, but finally decided it didn’t matter. Her mother thought well of the Malfoy’s because of what she had grown up believing, and true to Hermione’s expectations her mother just said to have fun and fill her in when she got back. With that in mind, Hermione changed into something a bit more presentable and activated the portkey.


She found herself pulled to a large, dark room. The only light came from the fireplace, and extended only weakly throughout the rest of the room. She could see enough detail to see bookshelves around her, and know it was a library of sorts, but could make out no book titles or other detail. Lucius Malfoy was sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace, looking at her with a smile on his face.

“Remember your promises, Lucius,” she said softly as she walked towards him.

He should have paled with recognition of her, but instead he smiled all the brighter. “Miss Granger? It is a pleasure. You may not appreciate the sentiment, but I do feel some satisfaction that such a talented young witch is not, in fact... what is the term you would have me use? Muggleborn?”

“I look at my birth the same that I always have,” she answered simply. “You may scorn the fact that I come from a line of primarily muggles, but that is your problem to deal with.”

“I have heard it said that you are the brightest witch of the age,” answered Lucius. “Although I will not deny that I had always expected my Vow to apply to a pureblood witch rather than a mudblood.”

“Then I daresay the turn of events might do you good,” said Hermione, trying to keep her anger under control. There was no contempt in his voice when he referred to her as a ‘mudblood,’ and he had not used it initially, but he was obviously trying to control the situation by causing her to lose her focus. It was just his way – part of it being the Slytherin in him, part the Malfoy in him. That combination did seem to combine in the form of perfectly conceited arses.

Rather nice arses to look at too, come to think of it. Hermione’s new sense of herself was allowing her to notice many things that she normally would consider unthinkable, and the truth was Lucius Malfoy had a very scrumptious looking figure. It wasn’t like she was the only witch to think so either. Although, given time, she did think his son might cut an even better figure than his father. Oh, the possibilities.

Now where is this coming from? She wondered abruptly. It was not like her to think with, well, with that part of her body. Shaking the feeling off she took the empty seat by the fireplace that Lucius lacked the courtesy to offer her.

He raised his eyebrow at her behavior, but then began to smile broadly. “Oh yes,” he said to her, “you are Leda’s daughter, aren’t you? She had balls like no other, if you will excuse the expression.”

“That phrase coming from a pureblood wizard is quite amusing, I assure you,” she said, laughing. “To the point though, I would like to know what information you can give me about Leda.”

At this rate his eyebrow was going to be stuck in place by the end of the conversation, he kept it raised so much. “Not one for small talk, are you, my dear? If you tell me what you know, I will know what to fill in for you.”

Hermione shook her head. “How Slytherin of you, Lucius, to speak so. You are still uncertain regarding how much you wish to help me, and are quite aware of the ways you may get out of doing so. You are bound only to do what I ask of you as a daughter of Leda, and you are not above misleading me at other times. My informing you of what I know would make it much easier for you to do so.”

“You should have been a Slytherin, my dear,” he said, “even if you are a bit straightforward compared to most Slytherins I have been acquainted with. I would hardly have expected a Gryffindor to see through the request, albeit how simple it should have been to do so.”

She glared at him. “It was a test, then? You would certainly know what makes a Slytherin, though I highly doubt I would ever fall into that particular category.”

“I don’t know about that,” he told her, rising from his chair and kneeling beside her so that he could study her more closely. “

He is trying to unnerve me with proximity, she told herself, but I can handle it. I will not be distracted by it. “Are you willing to help me or not?” she asked calmly. “If you aren’t, then say so now and I will leave.”

“I am the master of Malfoy Manor,” he answered. “You cannot leave without my consent.”

“Don’t threaten me, Lucius,” she said, allowing his name to roll off her tongue seductively. Not that she was quite sure when she learned to do so, as many of her thoughts and behaviors had showed up. “You and I both know that I could invoke your Vow, and you would have no choice but to accept my departure by whatever means I see fit.”

“Oh I can think of something you and I should invoke,” he said, equally seductive.

She stared at him, unmoving. “This is not a time for seductions, Lucius. Especially when your wife is most likely asleep nearby, and I am in the same year as your son. This is a time for you to tell me of Leda.”

He took her hand that was resting on her lap and kissed it. “Very well, I will do as you ask, Hermione. Although I do hope you may later change your views on seduction.” He was silent a moment, hoping for a response from her, but continued when she failed to give it to him. “Leda was skilled in all matters of divination, and it has been hinted at by my family that her skills extended into what you would consider the dark arts, as well as some abilities that extend from old Celtic religion. I know not what those abilities were, except that they were beyond the normal realm of witches and wizards, something that when combined with her other talents made her feared by many in the magical world. When my grandfather was on his deathbed he mentioned her once more, reminiscing. He told me that she ‘was captivating in personality, overwhelming in sensuality, and frightening in her power.’ He said he never knew a woman to so manipulate the men around her without losing her reputation. In fact, I believe she gained reputation by her efforts.”

“I think I would enjoy having such power over men,” said Hermione thoughtfully, forgetting just who she was speaking to and not entirely meaning to say her thoughts aloud anyway.

“You have more power than you know, my dear,” he said to her, again kissing her hand which he had yet to let go of. “Do you think it is for any woman that I will kneel on the floor?”

“I imagine not,” she said. “But I believe it would probably do you some good to kneel more often.”

“I kneel more than any could wish, and before the most frightening of people,” he said solemnly. She felt a slight shudder in the hand that held hers, and for a moment his eyes held more emotion than she would have expected to see from a Malfoy. He shook it quickly, though, and continued. “Did she tell you how she extracted the Vow from the first Malfoy to take it? No, I suppose you wouldn’t tell me if you did. He had loved her since their childhood, and she had never returned his affection in the way he wished. Finally, only a few years before her death and when she was still quite beautiful, she went to him with an offer. For twenty four hours she would be his lover, and fulfill any fantasies he desired, but in return he would take this strange Unbreakable Vow that she required. To most, it would be considered foolish for him to have accepted. But as I told you, she was overwhelming in sensuality, and he had truly loved her for so long that there was little he could do but succumb to her request.”

“It’s sweet,” she said softly. “I hadn’t ever thought a Malfoy would feel love so deeply. No offense.”

“I wouldn’t say offense is what I feel greatest,” he said, grinning, “though I feel that to an extent too. I think I’d rather just show you how much we can love.”

“Lucius Malfoy, behave yourself.” She spoke sternly, as a mother lecturing her child. His confidence had its affect on her, but he was the last person she would allow to know it. Unfortunately, she was afraid he already had an idea of how he affected her. Malfoys screamed confidence, but his seemed a little too genuine at the moment. “Need I mention your wife again?”

“Are you referring to the wife I did not choose for myself?” he asked. “The one who is warm and loving to our son but frigid the moment I’m in the room? Who does not love me? Who knows I have never loved her and has not sought for me to? Whose bed I have not shared since Draco was born and she decided her duty was fulfilled? Is that the wife you mean?”

“Twist it as you will,” answered Hermione. “It does not change the fact that you are married. Although if you are so sure of that reason being superfluous then I can easily give you a list of many more. Not the least of which is that I am not attracted to you as so many other witches seem to be.”

“Oh, you aren’t? Is that why I can feel your pulse racing in this delicate little wrist of yours and there is a beautiful flush to your cheeks?” He ignored it when she jerked her hand away from him, her eyes bright as if she were about to burst out with a lecture refuting his every word. He didn’t give her the chance. “It’s always black and white for you, isn’t it? Always crystal clear? Have you ever considered that maybe things aren’t what they seem, and the morality you base your life on might be flawed?”

His words were too close to the warning of Leda, but she let it go for the moment. “I see you are not capable of behaving yourself and sticking to the subject at hand. I’m sorry you find it so hard to believe a woman might not be seduced by your charms. Until next time, Lucius.” She touched the coin in her pocket that she had turned into a portkey before arriving, activating it.

Lucius watched her disappear with a smile on his face. “She admitted I have charms.”

His grandfather was not the first Malfoy to love a woman of the Atreus line. However, he had every confidence that he would be the first to be loved in return.

---

A/N: A bit longer chapter for you this time (I try, but I just can't seem to manage those mile long ones certain brilliant authors write). I swear I just wanted to hug Lucius when he spoke of kneeling before Voldemort. *shudders*

Once again -- thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! Each review has brought a huge smile to my face.

LadyV -- Yes, two sexy men at my command is a very intriguing concept... just makes thoughts go in all the wrong (but very nice to think of) directions. lol

Poet_lover -- I have a hard time picturing Lucius as actually being humble, but I would love to see him attempt it. ;)