Desire

Kiss

Morning arrives and Hermione dreads doing her morning rounds, specifically visiting ward 201. But it must be done, after all, she couldn’t let the bastard die.

‘How are you feeling today Mr. Malfoy,’ she manages to choke out.

‘Well, I think I might be able to walk without that damn cane soon,’ his pleasantness surprises her.

‘I’ll bring your Strengthening potion in five minutes, would you like to take it with breakfast?’ Hermione keeps her voice icy.

‘Only if you keep me company.’

‘What?’

‘For my mental and social health, you understand,’ He gives her his puppy dog eyes.

[What a detestable man]

‘I don’t think that would be appropriate, Mr Malfoy.’

‘Please, I feel awful about yesterday, it was incredibly inappropriate.’

[What does the bastard want]

‘Fine.’

Five minutes later, she sets the tray in front of him and sits on the bedside chair. An awkward silence ensues.

‘So, why did you check into St. Mungos, I’d have imagined you would rather be treated in the privacy of your home?’

‘Well you see, with my dear friend Severus’s sudden departure and the fact that my house elves have abandoned the mansion,’ Hermione smiles to herself, ‘I lacked the resources to treat the bite.’

‘What bit you again?’ She inquires, innocently enough.

‘So why did you decide to become a Mediwitch, besides the uniform of course?’ Lucius asks, ignoring her question.

They spend the rest of the morning making small talk. Hermione does most of the talking, whether about her favourite Wizards, subjects or life goals. She even drops a jab about Spew. She concedes in her mind, that Lucius is a good listener (except the bit about Elf liberation). When it is time to do the rounds, Hermione stands up to leave.

‘See you soon,’ Lucius says with a small wave

[I want her]

She smiles

[I want him]

[The little Mudblood had fallen for him thought Lucius. And what a delicious little morsel she was, yes, he would enjoy her as his latest conquest. The Mr Nice guy act had worked brilliantly, now she thought he was repentant. Lure her into security around him and then pounce. An ingenious plan thought Lucius, smiling discreetly into his pillow]

[Who would have thought Voldemort’s right hand man was a gentleman thought Hermione. His friendliness mystified her, but it was a pleasant change from his ill-tempered, sleazy antics of yesterday. God, Malfoy’s the enemy she reminds herself sternly, he almost killed you in the Department of Mysteries remember, just because his gorgeous and being nice to you doesn’t mean he isn’t the enemy.]

Lucius becomes a fixture in Hermione’s day. During the week, Hermione’s work day settles into a comfortable routine. In the morning she brings him his breakfast, and stays to talk for a while, until her duties call her elsewhere. In the late afternoon, she does her rounds again and exchanges some coquettish conversation with him. In her lunch break, she realises she looks forward to their encounters.

‘Maybe its because I have hardly anyone to talk to about my interests, afterall Harry and Ron only have two topics of conversation: Quidditch and Death Eaters, you can’t blame yourself for enjoying talking about other stuff,’ she murmurs into her lettuce. Malfoy had been the only wizard she had ever met who was genuinely interested in Cinderhope’s works on Arithmancy. But as she sits in the cafeteria alone, she can’t deny the attraction that throbs in her mind, making her heart beat faster each time he smiles or laughs, the attraction that makes heat pool between her thighs when he looks at her like that. She blushes, to even think about it, her cheeks reddening to the colour of the tomato in her salad.

‘Is there anything I can do for you, Mr Malfoy, before I finish my shift?’

‘Please, call me Lucius, we’ve been talking for a week, and no thankyou.’

Hermione can’t help but notice the strength and suppleness of his voice: it rustles like satin sheets, mingling in the air, warm and deep.

‘May I ask you a question?’ she asks.

‘Certainly.’

‘Why are you being nice to be?’

‘Is me being polite, such a stretch for your imagination?’ He raises his eyebrow and fixes her with a smirk.

Hermione pauses.

‘Why, yes, I guess it is.’

‘Oh, you’ve hurt my feelings,’ he puts a mock offended frown on.

‘I’m sorry,’ she replies, trying hard not to laugh, ‘What can I do to make you feel better, another copy of Witch Weekly?’

‘Hmm, well, you could answer me this, a few days ago you said that I was too old?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you still think the same, Hermione,’ the glance he gives her, makes her knees feel week.

‘Lucius-‘

‘Remember, my vanity is on the line.’

She smiles.

‘You’re not that old.’

‘Good.’ He leans in and captures her mouth with his.

Hermione lies in bed, guiltily reliving each moment of their kiss. His tongue thrusting into her mouth, exploring vigorously, hers meeting it tentatively. The warmth of his face against hers, as their tongues caress gently in the mellow moment. What are you thinking Hermione Granger, you kissed him, you kissed Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater scum of the earth. He’s old enough to be your father. Still, he’s a good kisser says the voice in her head. She rolls over, the pillow smothering her smile as she thinks about the kiss again.

Things are going smoothly thought Lucius as he lay in his private ward. The little witch had rushed off without a word, but not before he had felt her kiss back and seen the desire in her eyes and flustered cheeks. In the quiet darkness of ward 20, his hands creep down to his groin. It springs to life when he touches it, and as he strokes gently at first, and then roughly, he thinks about Hermione Granger and his lips against hers. Yes, she would be his: body and soul.