Ultimate Experience Part I : Passion

Chapter 3




Lucius Malfoy.

Some said that the man switched sides once the ultimate outcome of the war was inevitable. Others proclaimed that it was his love for his only son that made that particular decision for him. Either way, the outcome was the same; Malfoy had become the secret spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Hell, some whispered that if it weren't for him, the war against Voldemort would have still been continuing now. For his merits as a spy and informant he wasn't simply pardoned as a Death Eater but given a mantel of a war hero.

Just the mere sight of him managed to unsettle Hermione far enough that she felt completely sober in a matter of moments. What was it in that damned wizard that caused all the hairs on her nape stand to attention the second he came into her view?

'Mr. Malfoy,' drawled Hermione cooly.

Malfoy’s haughty look failed to waver under her tone.

'Miss Granger.'

It was an exact same exchange they threw at each other every time the two of them had the misfortune of bumping into each other at the Ministry. Those incidents were beginning to occur too often for Hermione's liking and just for the sake of her self-possession she lately developed a habit of peering around sharp corners before actually walking past them. However, the man had an infuriating trait of appearing out of thin air...and Apparition had nothing to do with it.

Even now, the young witch was practically unsurprised to find him standing solidly in front of her in a club - of all possible places. She stubbornly refused to back down from his gaze and the two continued to scrutinize each other from a distance. Almost testing an unknown will of some sort. Even so, Hermione almost gave up her ground when Malfoy suddenly made a deliberate step towards her, putting them just a foot from each other.

At once, she was besieged by the smell of expensive cologne and underneath it all a hint of musk and parchment. Nostrils quivering and head swimming from something she did not dare analyze, she was yet again reminded why she had to avoid close proximity with a certain pureblood. Auror Granger was not one to lose control in the most heated of situations but during episodes like that she began to genuinely doubt her stability.

'Fancy meeting you here... Miss Granger,' remarked the subject of her thoughts with a distinctive purr in his voice.

Hermione just managed to groan out something unintelligible whilst her eyes hypnotically stared at the expanse of the ornate black dress-shirt that stretched snugly across the impressive width of the man's shoulders. Instinct told her that if she were to lift her head now, all will be lost.

The two of them no longer took notice of the people surrounding them nor the silence that has fallen around the gathered company. In spite of that, all jerked as one when the dense atmosphere was broken by a tense voice.

'What a surprise! Having a time of your lives, I presume?'

Six pairs of eyes focused on Ronald Weasley standing beside their table. Though his features matured significantly since his Hogwarts years, the same could not be said of his mannerisms. Standing tall, his blue eyes mercilessly squinted at his former lover and best friend. With his right hand draped around her stood a tall, lithe blonde who looked as if she just trotted off a catwalk.

Hermione couldn't have squeezed a clever retort out even if her life depended on it. Her body felt numb as she stared in silence at the young man who once upon her time was her closest confidant. Although, it was not the presence of another witch in her ex-fiance's arms that caused her such discomfort, she suddenly realized with a ringing clarity. What really gave her pause was the fact that the man who stood oh-so close beside her will most probably become a witness to her upcoming degrading treatment.

She could feel a humiliating blush slowly creeping up her cheekbones.

Bastard.

It was anyone's guess to whom referred the last depiction.

'Ronald, do us all a favour and disappear somewhere with your companion. We came to enjoy a relaxed evening,' said Harry dryly. Clear accusation glimmered in his eyes.

An expression that looked more at place on a certain potions master's face made an appearance on Ron's.

'What a coincidence! The two of us were looking for just the same. And for your information,' he pressed the skeletal woman closer to his body 'this is Bambi. My girlfriend.'

'Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter,' cooed the blonde sweetly, batting her fake eyelashes eyes at him.

'Cheers,' commented Harry darkly. He might have become competent in ignoring the panting of countless females around him but his young wife was obviously of another opinion. At the bombshell's tone Ginny's back visibly stiffened and the newly arrived couple were coated with a scathing look of highest magnitude. Upon meeting it, her older brother actually winced.

The Weasley matriarch would have been so proud.

Hermione was pulled out of her musings by a loud sniff.

How in hell the man managed to pull even that with a refined manner?

She was certainly not the only one to hear that particular silent statement. Ron swiftly shifted his attention from his younger sister to the tall blond wizard.

'Got anything important to say, Malfoy?' growled he.

The right eyebrow of the wizard in question slowly climbed up.

'Mr. Weasley. Good evening to you too.' Ron's face visibly flushed at the impassive response. His countenance continued to gradually acquire an unbecoming purple shade to it as his opponent passively carried on, 'Regarding your enquiry about whether I need to give voice to anything, I assure you that I do not. Indeed, one could deem the act of drawing air through one's nose as a substantial evidence of the individual's assessment of the matter.'

While Ron just stood rooted to the place pointlessly trying to come back with a retort, his girlfriend looked downright lost. Baby blue eyes blinked owlishly up at the imposing man with a completely uninvolved manner.

Hermione had to hastily bite down on her lip.

Get a grip on yourself. Bursting out laughing will definitely not endear you further to Ron. Or Bambi.

Despite her lionhearted resolve, some sound must have escaped from her, for she became yet again the subject of Lucius Malfoy's attention.

His eyes glided leisurely across her face before resolutely settling on her mouth. Acutely aware of her lower lip still held trapped beneath her teeth, Hermione let go of it. The wizard's gaze followed the movement. For a short time he simply scrutinized the now damp flesh of her underlip before lifting his arctic grey eyes back to her own. Any urge that she might have harbored to laugh, evaporated instantaneously. Instead, she was all of a sudden enticed to utter a whole different set of sounds.

As Hermione stood pinned under the stare of the father of her school nemesis, there came a feeble realization that she was finally losing her brains. Only that could explain the fact that she was fervently fighting the temptation to moan out load.

Someone sharply cleared their throat.

'Hm. Oh, well,' spoke Harry, 'The day's not getting any younger, so I guess we should all just enjoy the rest of the night in a relatively enjoyable atmosphere. It was nice to see you again, Mr. Malfoy. Ron. Ah... Bambi.'

It was a clear dismissal. Nevertheless, his tone held a distinct respectful quality to it as he addressed the older wizard, whereas the same could not be said about the last two.

All in all, one could only hypothesize what would have come about next if someone, who up till that moment remained absolutely silent, wasn't overtaken with the most deranged idea of all.

'Why won't the three of you join us? We got more than enough room here!' piped out Parvati. 'Ouch! What did you kick me for, Neville?!'

Her husband's foot strike, however, came a moment too late. Hermione found herself witnessing a distinctly triumphant smirk appear on the face of the high-born wizard beside her.

'Splendid,' he drawled.

For all intents and purposes, the evening was developing a somewhat cataclysmic quality to it.

***

Twenty three minutes later, Hermione Granger was rapidly approaching the conclusion that the situation was not one of disaster.

It was pure torture.

Lacking sheer rudeness, Harry and the rest of the gathered company failed to express one word of protest once it became apparent that Lucius Malfoy was all up for joining them at their table. Their good manners, nonetheless, almost failed them when a bristling Ron made up his mind to include himself in the invitation as well, dragging his companion forcefully after him. Positioning the two of them on the only unoccupied couch of the private lounge area, Ron commenced to throw accusatory glances at everyone present.

The distressing moment, however, came when the blond wizard somehow managed to squeeze his impressive figure between the edge of the divan and Hermione herself. Feeling like a victim of a rather well-aimed Petrificus Totalus, the young Auror became exceedingly aware of how the wizard's whole right side came in full contact with her body. As he shifted to find a more comfortable position on the lush furniture, the muscles in his thigh palpably shifted against her own.

With hands clutched tightly upon her knees, Hermione fought a personal battle with the pounding of her heart. It became comparatively pointless when the reason of her torment decided to turn half-way in his seat and entertain himself by silently looking her. That took place over fifteen minutes ago. He did not move since. Or stop staring.

Hermione have had enough.

'Stop with your leering,' she hissed.

That annoying eyebrow of his was raised again.

'I guarantee you, Miss Granger, that we Malfoys do not leer - as you so eloquently put it. We intently observe.'

'I do not care how you call it! Just stop ogling me. It makes me uncomfortable.'

'Truly? Hm. And what is it in my observation that make you so...agitated?' enquired he, the sound of his voice vibrating deep in his chest.

Damn it. Was it even possible for human beings to actually purr?

Becoming more flustered with every passing second of their exchange, Hermione could feel another blush starting to taint her cheeks.

'Mr. Malfoy,' she managed to squeeze out, 'It is a widely known fact that any average individual would feel positively harassed if faced with a very thorough and close inspection of their person.'

'Ah. But you are far from average, aren't you, Miss Granger?'

The man was impossible. She very much doubted whether she had met anyone who could say so much yet so little with one phrase alone. Though she was a woman who lived and breathed for mysteries of the unknown that hid in books and things around her, she had an unexplainable inkling that this particular enigma was unbreakable. Therefore, she would be wise to let it go if she knew what was good for her. Although, that inner statement did not stop her from feeling unhinged anyway.

'With all due respect, Mr. Malfoy, but you are a pompous arse who pretends to know everything. Well, you don't!'

For a number of hushed moments she honestly thought that she took a step too far. Unlike her usual stoic behavior, she found herself conducting in an absolutely unpredictable way. Something was obviously triggering her most basic emotions till the point where she thought she will reach spontaneous self-combustion.

All the same, Lucius Malfoy appeared to be completely unaffected by her burst. He just continued seating, closely observing every expression that flickered across her face as well as the rapid breathing that escaped through her half open lips.

'I see.'

Past the point of caring about what he thought he saw, Hermione was on the final verge of bluntly losing herself in some distraction when she felt a strong big hand grab hold of her.

Before her hyperactive mind could fathom the obvious, she was unceremoniously dragged to her feet by Lucius Malfoy. The two of them were just clearing the main floor of the club before the young woman's consciousness belatedly caught up with her. Planting her feet firmly on the ground she tried in vain to tear herself from the death grip the man had on her.

'What in hell do you think you are doing, Malfoy? ' screeched she. Her heart gave furious pumps of adrenaline as something suspiciously close to exhilaration overtook her.

The ex-Death Eater at last focused his attention on the weakly struggling witch in his arms. The gleam within his grey eyes abruptly halted all of her movements altogether. Instead, the young woman swallowed convulsively.

'Me?' enquired the dark wizard, 'I am about to dance with you, Miss Granger.'


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